If you enjoy these stories, consider donating to Nifty to help keep the site running. Even a small donation of $5 from each reader can make a big difference. Visit the new Nifty Donation page or go to https://donate.nifty.org/ to contribute.
... . ...
chap. III
I leave early, like I planned, but end up taking much longer to get to Wildwalden than the two hours Tim mentioned.
Following the instructions on the map, I leave the highway and enter a narrow gravel path that winds through a dense forest. Tall evergreen trees line both sides, their branches so dense they create a canopy overhead, shading the path even in daylight.
It takes me exactly forty minutes to finally see Wildwalden's gates. Once I get in, I drive slowly as the gravel road transitions to cobblestone.
The place is beautiful, like stepping back in time. The houses are charming, with half-timbered facades, steep roofs, and colorful flower boxes adorning every window. The narrow streets wind through the town, leading to a small square with a fountain at its center. It's like something out of a storybook.
Strangely I don't feel like this is the first time I've been here. Everything looks familiar. The feeling is so strong that it even frightens me.
"Nonsense!" I shake my head, "All small towns in this country look the same. I went to one that probably looks like this one. That's why..."
Trying to convince myself that there's nothing weird going on with me, I drive straight to the hotel.
I have no trouble finding it. It's the 3rd tallest building in the town. The church being the first and the town hall, the second.
The hotel is a three-story building with the same architectural style as the rest of the town. It's cozy-looking, with its timber-framed structure, steep gabled roof, and flower boxes. Inside it's what I call modest - no luxuries, but pleasant. I check in and, and as always, I get the room on the top floor.
There's no elevator. Which doesn't bother me at all. I'm carrying nothing but a small suitcase and my briefcase.
After the first flight of stairs, however, I start feeling tired, which makes frown slightly. On the second flight, my frown deepens, noticing my suitcase getting heavy. By the third, I'm not thinking about anything else. I just drag myself to my room. I take deep breaths, before checking the contents in both my cases. There's nothing heavy in them.
'That's weird', I think to myself. I go to the gym regularly. I'm in great shape and I can't remember the last time I felt this tired from doing basic physical activity.
Once again I shake my head, trying to dispense the weird things that I've been feeling since I arrived here. It's probably nothing. 'Maybe I'm just getting old.' I laugh to myself. Yea, it can be it. Maybe, and even with regular workouts, my body is showing signs of ageing.
I should call Tim. But I'm curious to explore the town. I left home early, without time to have breakfast. Now it's almost midday and my stomach is complaining. Maybe I can find I nice place here to eat. I'm fully aware that in a few hours, I'll have to dedicate myself entirely to the issue with Tim's will, and I won't have time to eat and explore anything else. It'll be a shame to come to such beautiful town without getting to know it a little.
I grab my phone and use it to see the map of the town. There's a restaurant not very far from the hotel. Just a five minute walk. I catch my breath and face the stairs again. Going down is much easier.
I take advantage of the walk to admire the houses with their huge gardens. Big trees, lots of flowers. Low walls. Windows open and doors unlocked.
'It doesn't even feel like I'm in the same country. Here, people aren't scared of being robbed,' I marvel. I think of Marco. I can bring him here on some weekend. 'No. He would hate it. He's always saying he grew up in a small town and can't stand that monotonous life.' Yea, he won't be good company for a bucolic trip. But I, on the other hand, can appreciate the charm of this place.
I find the restaurant and after a good meal, I check the map again and see the places I can visit. There's a lake and a few farms out of the town and I wonder which one Tim inherited. They all look big. Will he be able to manage a farm? Knowing my friend, probably not.
As if he sensed that I'm thinking of him, he calls me right in this instant. I look at my watch. I still have some time left, so I decide not to answer. 'Tim can wait a bit.' I set the phone temporarily on silent mode.
I know my behavior might not seem very logical. It's not. But who said I'm logical all the time? Nobody is. Often, we do exactly the opposite of what we've planned. And that's a good thing. Life can't be reduced to a math problem, where everything you do is the result of logical decisions. Of course, later there's a rush to fix things, but that's okay.
I know I'm here to take care of Tim's inheritance. But why not take some time to get to know the town? Will I have another chance to come back to this place? With the kind of life I lead, I doubt it.
I must admit, right now I feel a bit reluctant to go meet my friend. It's been years since I had a vacation. I want to relax. Explore the surroundings. Breathe in this fresh air that brings me such a familiar feeling.
"I'll explore just a bit more," I decide.
I walk slowly towards the church, appreciating everything around me. The streets are empty. Only an occasional passerby greets me, as it happens in small towns.
I see a sign pointing to a museum. I get curious, cross the street and enter it. Inside it's dark, and dusty. I see no one at the reception, so enter further in. I pass by panels showing paintings and sketches of the early years of the town. There're also trunks. Furniture. Kettles and pots.
I see a room with a military exhibition, but before I can go in, I'm stopped by a short brunette girl.
"Hi there." She greets me, causing me to turn around, startled, "Do you have a ticket? You're not allowed to enter the museum without one."
"Sorry," I apologise, letting out an awkward smile, "I didn't see anyone at the reception, so I just entered without buying a ticket."
"I see," She smiles, "Then I should be the one apologising." She walks to the entrance and I follow her, "To be honest, we don't get many visitors, so I oftentimes leave the reception unattended."
I nod, and look at the books and magazines, I didn't see before, at the reception desk.
"Are you from the capital?" she asks, pulling my attention back to her.
"Yes, I am. I came to take care of some business," I reply.
"Flowers or milk?" she inquires, noticing my confusion she adds, "We have flowers and dairy farms around here, so most business visitors are involved in that."
"Oh, no, I'm not a businessman. I'm a lawyer. Came to handle a will."
Her smile fades. "Is it Mr. Wiesel's farm?" I frown at her sudden change in tone, but before I can ask, she glances at an imaginary watch on her wrist, "Look at that, it's almost lunch break. We need to close up."
She hurries me out and shuts the door behind me. I stand there for a moment, incredulous. 'What was that?' I shake my head, trying to make sense of it. Enough of the small-town weirdness. I need to get back to why I'm here. I start walking towards the hotel.
Halfway there, I pull my phone out of my pocket, knowing there'll be missed calls from Tim. Sure enough, he's called several times. 'Tim is too anxious,' I chuckle looking at the amount of missing calls. As a lawyer, I'm used to clients' nervousness. If I were as anxious as they are, I'd live in a state of constant stress.
Nothing serious can be happening with Tim. He's probably just eager to settle the inheritance. I sigh loudly and decide to call him. Just to calm him down.
When I'm about to click on the call button, someone coming from the opposite direction bumps into me. My phone flies out of my hands and crashes to the ground.
"Oh shit, I am so sorry," the person, a man, says hurriedly. "I didn't see you there."
"It's okay," I reply, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. I pick up the phone - screen cracked, but it still works. "I was also distra-..." My voice trails off when I look at the person who bumped into me.
My eyes first catch the warm, medium brown skin that contrasts with his short, naturally curly dark-brown hair. A straight, well-proportioned nose leads down to full, softly curved lips. And the tick, eyebrows give intensity to his deep-set, almond-shaped eyes.
The eyes. I've seen them before.
They are the same I see every night in my dreams.
It's him. The young man from my dreams. He's here. Right in front of me. With those dark-brown eyes I would recognise anywhere in the world.
But there's something different about them this time. He's staring at me with an expression of... Of what? At first, I can't define it. Then, the muscles in his face tighten. He instinctively pulls back. What does it mean? He makes a gesture as if wanting to step away. There're seconds of indecision. Then he runs.
As he passes by me, he veers away, as if he's in front of a dangerous wild animal.
There's only one word to define his expression. Fear.
Absolute fear.
I don't react. I'm paralyzed, immobilized by surprise. The dream comes back to my mind so disturbingly that I feel drops of sweat running down my forehead.
It's him. He's different. From his skin tone, to his hair. But the eyes... It's him. I'm sure of it.
When I manage to recover, he's already quickly moving away. I feel an unbearable pressure in my ears. My heart races. A tremor in my chest. It's as if there's a bird inside me, a bird that flies in the mysterious part between my lungs and my heart. It beats its wings, trapped inside my body. A bird, that's the best image I can create to explain my blind and confused emotions.
Everything darkens. I nearly fall. I have to force myself not to plunge into a deep pit, the pit where I collapse every night in my dreams. I loosen my tie and take several deep breaths.
It is him! But how did he leave my dreams to appear in flesh and blood in the small countryside town I came to almost by chance?
I breathe even more deeply, trying to fill my lungs with as much air as possible. I'm trying to calm myself. A calmness that seems to be in an unreachable place. Like in the dreams. Drops of sweat continue to run down my forehead. Even with the mild weather.
I'm suffocating. I feel the same agony I feel whenever I wake up from the dreams that make me insomniac.
There's only one way to find the answers. I have to talk to him.
Without a doubt, he recognized me as well. His look, his escape, are proof of that. Does he also have the same dream?Why did he run? What's the reason for so much fear?
I snap back to reality. He's already crossing the street. I quicken my pace in his direction. He looks back as if he sensed my movement. He starts running faster. As I reach the church, a pickup truck loaded with flowers passes on the road, forcing me to wait. I still catch a glimpse of him running towards the museum, which is open.
It's a matter of minutes.
I cross the street and before I can enter the museum the receptionist blocks the entrance with her body, "Sorry, we're still closed."
"I know but..." I struggle searching for the right words. I'm good at speaking in court, but at this exact moment, the words are stuck in my throat. I try to figure out what to say. I can't give the impression that I'm chasing after a man I don't even know.
"You know, but...?" She crosses her arms, annoyed.
She clearly doesn't want me here. And I'm sure she's hiding the man inside the building. I can feel his presence as intensely as in my dreams.
I take a deep breath and try to explain as best as I can, "When I was heading to the hotel, I saw a guy. I really need to talk to him."
"Who is he?"
"I don't know his name. He's young. Probably in his 20s. Taller than you but slightly shorter than me. Brown skin, curly hair. Was wearing blue jeans and a grey hoodie."
The girl stares at me. It's obvious that the conversation sounds weird. I try to explain, "Don't take this the wrong way... I got the impression that he's a... friend from... from a long time ago. I saw him when he entered the museum."
"If you know him, why didn't you talk to him?" she asks, arching an eyebrow.
It's obvious she's hiding him and won't help me, but I still try anyway, "Surprise made me hesitate. Really. It's just really important for me to talk to him." Is it just my imagination, or did her expression harden a bit more? I choose to be cautious. I back off. "Well, if you see him, please tell him I really need to talk to him," I take a card from my jacket pocket, "Here's my card with my name and phone number. I insist, it's very important." The girl plays with my card between her fingers. "I would really appreciate it if you could pass along the message," I say in farewell.
I'm one hundred percent sure she helped him hide. And this only reinforces my initial impression: the young man who haunts my dreams really ran away from me out of fear. And he asked for help so I don't find him.
"But what's the reason for this fear?" I ask myself once more, trying to regain my inner balance.
I leave the museum, and go back to the hotel. But walk very slowly. Occasionally, look back in hopes to see him. But can only see the receptionist looking at me. Waiting untill I'm out of sight.
I sigh. When arrive at the hotel, I check my phone. Tim wasn't satisfied with just calling me. He also sent several text messages, all of them saying he urgently needs to talk to me.
Ever since I arrived in this town, it's as if I forgot the reason for my trip. And now there's this guy that bumped into me. Even in this moment, seeing Tim's messages, I'm not motivated to call him back. All I want is to spend the day searching for the man I know so well in my dreams. But I didn't know where to start. "Wandering around the town asking questions won't help. I don't even know his name!" I conclude.
Tim is waiting for me.
Suddenly, a glimmer of hope appears. "The lawyer who wrote the will is from here. He must know a lot of people. He can help me find him."
But before anything else, it'll be best to take care of Tim's inheritance paperwork. "The lawyer will certainly be able to help me," I tell myself.
It's with the strength of this hope that I go to my room, this time not feeling anything when I i climb the three flights of stairs.
I grab my briefcase with my laptop in it. Calmer now, I decide that the best strategy is to tell no one that I've come face to face with the embodiment of the man from my dreams. 'They'll think I'm crazy.' I consider it. I even speak out loud to myself, "What if I have a mental illness? What if I'm having hallucinations?"
I know that the brain can trick you. The guy I saw today is very different from the one in my dream. Looks wise. Dark-brown eyes. The most common eye colour. I could have imagined everything! And him? Maybe he ran away because he was scared by my expression.
I try to reason. To keep control of my emotions. I'm not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, but I've heard that one of the symptoms of mental disturbance is confusing fantasy with reality. The person thinks something happened, but in truth, they imagined it all. What if that encounter was just a figment of my imagination?
Despite my rational side, I feel that there's something more. Something inexplicable. But as real as the fact that I'm here, alive, in this hotel room, with my phone in hand, ready to call Tim.
In the deepest part of myself, I believe in the impossible. The dream became real. There's no explanation. But it happened. There's only one way to know what's real and what's an illusion. I needed to find the man. And ask him the right question. Without hesitation. I take a deep breath, 'Yes, I need to see him again.'
I also make another decision: I won't leave this town without talking to him. I'll find him. No matter what.