Dream Catcher, Heart Listener - Page 7

“Why did you never tell me?” she whispered, her fingertips tracing his face, and his soft fur she could truly see; even though they stood in the dream-like world, she knew the vision before her was just as real as the comfort she felt with the sensation of drawing her fingers across that face before her eyes.
 
“Why did you not want me to know who you were?”
 
“Because,” he said, “in the dreams, I talk to you, sing to you, because they’re dreams, because anything we want to be real can be. If I can make it so.
 
But in the real world, I am deaf. I cannot hear. I am learning to speak, but I know I’m not very good yet and.  .  .I didn’t want to embarrass you, disappoint you. I wanted to wait, to be perfect for you just like in the dreams...”
 
“But you are,” she assured him, tenderly cupping his soft, fuzzy cheeks in her hands, “perfect for me. How could I be disappointed in you after you accepted my blindness, more than that, showed me such beautiful things, taught me things so I too might know the part of the world that you know, the world of sight. Don’t you see what a precious gift that is, that you are? How could I be disappointed?”
 
He kissed her forehead tenderly; she did not need to see him, to see his eyes glittering lovingly as he pulled back, to know they were his lips, his touch.
 
“Your songs,” she said gently as he entwined her hands in his, holding them to his heart, “how did you hear them? Did they come to you in dreams as well?”
 
“No,” he said, “you remember when I called your lullaby your ‘heart song?’”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Well, I meant that.”
 
She searched his tenderly sparkling golden eyes.
 
“It’s something I’ve always been able to do,” he said, “to hear people’s hearts. Each heart plays a song, some pure, some terrible, some lovely, some dark, but each has their own rich, complex melody, harmony, and rhythm. That’s how I was able to tell at first what things you did and didn’t like, made you happy, because it took me a little while to be able to read your actual thoughts—not all your thoughts, not the private ones, just those you spoke to me aloud in words—even now, I can’t hear your voice. But I don’t need to, because I hear your heart, and it is beautiful enough.”
 
“My heart really sounds.  .  .like that song you sang me?” she breathed.
 
He nodded, smiling. “Sometimes, yes, at least.  .  .when I held you, it seemed to calm you, calm your heart.”
“It did.”
She paused before asking, “Dominique—” the very sound of her voice speaking his name made her heart flutter and she wondered if he could hear, what it sounded like, “Dominique, what happened tonight? Why wasn’t I able to stop? Why did that song have such a powerful sway over me?”
 
The golden eyes darkened as he said, “I don’t know exactly what happened. But there have been those in the past who’ve tried to abuse our powers of the mind, twist them to fit their own purposes. I have talked with the leaders, have heard talk of a sect who has been conducting some...experiments, if you will, with these powers and other newer theories associated with them. Unfortunately, as you saw tonight, such experiments often end up getting someone hurt, or worse.”
 
“Do you think anyone...?” her voice trailed, unable to imagine the horror any more than her heart could.
 
He shook his head. “I think they had it under control. But you...they showed a special interest in you, led you on, didn’t want to let you go. I don’t know why. Maybe they know somehow about our dreams, think you have some special gift in mind control or mind invasion yourself...”
 
Her eyes searched his, panicked suddenly, but he looked down, smiled, then drew her close to his warm chest and said, “You don’t need to worry. I’ll keep you close by my side. They won’t harm you. Ever.”
 
She closed her eyes and snuggled closer, deeper, til she could almost feel as though they were one; she listened to the beating of his heart, and though she could not hear its song, it was enough, even as seeing him only in their special moments of surreal dreams was enough. It was enough even as she opened her eyes and found that the dream around her had faded. It was enough because she was still in his arms.