Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

He always looks so peaceful in the mornings. Ingrid watches his chest rise and fall — up, down, up, down —, steady, consistent, untouchable. The sun, too, persistently rises and sets day after day, as it has long before humans came to be, and as it will long after humans’ self-destructive nature tears itself apart. Untouchable.

Just as the sun makes its trip across the sky, Ingrid makes her daily trip across the house and back to the bed. This is where each day begins and ends. Cyclical. Bleak. The world beyond the window is just as bleak, but Ingrid has learned to love its grey skies, orange sun, its silence. She blocks memories of what was and fills the gaps with gratitude. She listens to his breath. In, out, in, out. Ingrid reaches out and hovers below his nose, feeling his breath on her skin. She traces his features in the air — his nose, eyes, brows, beard. Gratitude. Sleep, you avoidant son of a gun.

Ingrid gets up and waters the orchid. It was a gift from her mother; the last before the skies went grey. Despite the scarcity of uncontaminated water, the flowerless orchid always gets a share. “Patience is a virtue,” she insists. Leonard always pokes fun at her hardheadedness. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that orchids require plenty of sunlight, so it will never bloom again.

Ingrid opens a can of fish, pops a few into her mouth and closes her eyes, savoring the flavor. There are only three cans left. We need to restock soon. She unfolds a yoga mat, spreads it across the floor and stretches, listening to her breath. In, out, in, out. Ingrid checks the clock, then looks at the sleeping Leonard. His chest continues to rise and fall steadily. She gets up, lies down beside him and puts her head on his chest. Up, down, up, down.

“Leonard.” Up, down, up, down. She plants a kiss on his chin, cheeks, nose, forehead. “Leonard… Leonard.” She places her hands on his shoulders and gives them a shake. “Leonard, wake up. Leonard!”

Clenching her teeth, she smacks Leonard across the face. For a few seconds, his breathing loses its stability, but soon, it returns to its regular pace. Distant. Undisturbed. A knot tightens in Ingrid’s throat. Once again, he has left her alone. The orange sun smirks at her from millions of miles away. Alone. “You selfish bastard!”

✳

“I am not.” A curly-haired boy stands in a wheat field, wearing a dinosaur shirt his grandmother gave him for his seventh birthday. The shirt is a tad bit too tight in the shoulders now, but he refuses to part with it. The discomfort in his shoulders adds to his frustration.

“Yes, you are.” A girl he has never seen before stands before him. She wears two braids and a silly-looking jumpsuit, but her eyes are eerily serious. Just seconds ago, the girl had rudely interrupted his journey and filled his brain with fabricated rubbish, and now he can’t remember where he was headed.

“I don’t even know you.”

“Not yet, you don’t.”

Whatever joke this is, he doesn’t like it. “Listen, I am not your future husband, and you did not come from the future, and I would like to resume my walk alone, please.”

Ingrid catches his sleeve just as Leonard turns around. He breaks out of her grip, but something about the look in her eyes tells him not to walk away.

“Come with me.” Ingrid takes his hand, and the field disappears. They now stand in a quiet neighborhood in front of a small, but cozy-looking house. Leonard looks around, bewildered.

“This is our future home, Leonard.”

“How did you—?”

“You look surprised.”

“This is— this is teleportation, which only happens in movies and—”

“—dreams.” Leonard gawks at Ingrid. She looks back at him expressionlessly. “Yes, dreams, Leonard. Yes, this is all a dream. And the reason I'm here is because sometimes you get lost in dreams for days, even weeks, and my role is to guide you back to reality.”

“You're delusional.”

“No, Leonard... you are,” Ingrid responds quietly.

Leonard walks backwards, gripping his hair. Ingrid comes closer, wishing to comfort him, but Leonard puts his hand out defensively. “Stay back! I don't want to hear any more of your rubbish. And I don't want to see you ever again!” Leonard stomps away and shuts his eyes tight. Ingrid remains behind him, hurt.

✳

When Leonard opens his eyes, he finds himself in a park, reading peacefully under a tree. Finally, peace and quiet. Nothing but birds, whispering leaves, and… He furrows his brows, trying to block out the crying. It’s not my problem. The cries persist. With a sigh, he climbs down from the tree and follows the sounds. He finds Ingrid curled up under a neighboring tree. “Oh… You again.”

Ingrid looks up at him — her previously cold, expressionless face is now red, tear-stained, and warped with pain. At that moment, Leonard would give anything to bring her coldness back. She gets up and starts walking away. He follows her. “Look, I'm sorry…” No response. “I didn't mean to be unkind... Sometimes it just happens.”

Ingrid turns around angrily. As she speaks, she grows taller and taller. “Oh, it just happens, does it? So when you escape into your dreams, into your ‘happy place’, for weeks on end, it just happens? Oh no, Leonard, I think it's what you consciously choose. You choose your dreams over our life together, over me, time after time, and it hurts, goddamn it!.. It hurts.”

By the end of her monologue, an adult Ingrid towers over a small, confused Leonard. He closes his eyes and opens them again. Little Ingrid — with her two braids, funny jumpsuit, and pained eyes — stands in front of him once more.

“I'm sorry I hurt you.”

“Then come back...”

Leonard looks at her for a few moments, then closes and opens his eyes. This simple trick has worked its magic before, but it fails him this time around. He pinches his arm. Nothing. He slaps himself. That doesn't work either. He looks at Ingrid helplessly. “I can't.”

“You've gone so deep into your mind that you've lost your way back…” Ingrid takes a moment to think, then reaches into her pocket and takes out a golden heart-shaped locket. She stretches it out to Leonard. “Open it.”

Leonard takes the locket and releases its miniature latch. Inside, he finds a photograph of a curly-haired man standing knee-deep in a river, holding a laughing woman in his arms.

“Do you remember?..” Ingrid asks quietly. Leonard looks up at her — her eyes are so hopeful. He rummages through his brain. River, trees, woman, laughter. Trees, woman, river… The spark in Ingrid’s eyes fades.

“It was our first time backpacking together. We had been walking under the scorching sun for days, and we were so tired… when we stumbled upon this river. So you took your shoes off…” a hint of a smile forms on Ingrid’s lips, “... and offered to carry me across. Our friend took this photograph. He would always—”

“—Jeremy.” Ingrid looks up at Leonard. The spark in her eyes is back. “A few moments after he took the photo, I slipped on a moss-covered rock, and both of us fell into the river.”

A smile spreads across Ingrid's face. "Yes." They stand in silence for a moment, smiling. “What else do you remember?”

✳

Their home… the chitter-chatter of their TV. The scent of pan-fried mushrooms. Leonard walks over to the kitchen to check on the mushrooms, when the TV’s chatter stops abruptly. Did she turn it off?

“Leonard…”

“Hm?” He pops a mushroom into his mouth. Needs more salt…

“Attention. 10 missiles have been detected on a trajectory to the United States.

“Leonard!”

Salt shaker in hand, Leonard runs over to the living room. Ingrid looks at him with terror in her eyes. "EMERGENCY ALERT" is written at the center of the screen.

“This is not a drill. Landing is expected to occur in the next 10 minutes. If you are indoors, stay indoors. If you are outdoors, seek immediate shelter in a building…”

Leonard shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the memory, but instead, his mind jumps to another memory that isn’t any more pleasant.

Ingrid is on her knees, throwing up into the toilet. Her body trembles. Leonard kneels beside her, holding her hair back. That goddamn radiation. He would do anything — anything at all — to take her place.

“Leonard... If I don’t make it—”

“Sh…” He strokes her hair. “You will.” She has to. When he lowers his arm, he finds a chunk of Ingrid's hair in his hand. His stomach sinks. Before she notices, he sticks the hair under the rug.

Young Leonard opens his eyes and sees the concerned face of Ingrid. He walks backwards, away from her. “No, no, no, no…”

“Leonard?”

“No! I can't go back!” He turns around and runs.

“You can't hide in your dreams forever!”

Leonard shuts his eyes. When he opens them, he finds himself in front of a home-made cake. His mom and dad are beside him.

“... Happy birthday to you!”

Leonard makes a wish and blows out the candles. Suddenly, Ingrid appears at the table. His parents disappear. “That's a lovely wish, but you know you can't change the past. Or should I say the future?”

Leonard stands up abruptly, knocking over the chair from behind him. “Leave me alone!” He closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he finds himself back at the field where he and Ingrid first met. He walks through the field with determination, ignoring the wheat stems scraping his skin. Away, away, away. He doesn't have to turn around to know that Ingrid is behind him. “Stop following me!”

“Stop running away!..” Ingrid’s voice trembles. Leonard reluctantly slows his pace, then stops. “You can't change the past, but you can learn to accept it... make the most of it. Because we survived, Leonard... Our life is a gift that was granted to few — we must embrace it. But I can't… not without you.”

Taken off guard by her sudden voice change, Leonard turns around. In place of the pigtailed little girl stands Ingrid as he remembers her, peering down at him with pain in her eyes.

“You know, our orchid sprouted a flower today... after years of watering what we thought was a hopeless twig... Come home, Leonard.” She stretches her hand out to him. He slowly reaches out and takes it.

✳

Leonard opens his eyes. A beautiful orchid flower graces his view. He smiles, then turns over to face Ingrid. She lies beside him, unconscious. So peaceful, distant... Untouchable.

“Ingrid?..” No response. “Ingrid?” He sits up and tries to shake her awake. “Ingrid!.. Oh God, how long was I asleep? Ingrid!”

Ingrid stirs, frowning. “There is no need to shout.” She opens her eyes sleepily. Leonard looks back at her with relief and gratitude, then rests his head on her chest. Up, down, up, down. Tears stream down his cheeks. Ingrid slowly runs her fingers through his hair.

“You selfish bastard...”