Taking On Dreams

Chapter 1

“Class, today I would like you to draw something to represent your deepest desires. It can be anything you like. There are no limits here, and no rules. The only thing you are forbidden from doing is nothing at all!”

As the teacher spoke, she paced swiftly back and forth at the front of the room. Her long black hair bounced behind her following every step she took. Her colorful skirt twirled as she moved. Her mahogany eyes shone with exuberance.

Chris looked around. All the other students were busily working at their easels. Their faces were deep in concentration. Chris leaned back in his chair and heaved a great sigh. He had no idea why he had ever signed up for this class. He had no artistic abilities whatsoever.

He stared at his still blank easel. Maybe it was more of a lack of creativity than it was a lack of talent. Professor Gartner had often praised him for his excellent work on still life. But whenever it was time the class to use their imaginations, Chris could sense that he fell short from the rest of them.

The sweet smell of flowery perfume reached his nose. He looked up to see the art professor standing beside him. He braced himself for some sort of lecture.

“Chris, what’s wrong?” she inquired instead. “You are usually eager to begin your work. What’s changed?”

“The subject,” Chris muttered. But the teacher heard him, and smiled.

“This may not be your thing, Chris. But I know you can do it.”

“But how?” he asked with eager eyes.

“Here is a little tip to get you started. Look around this room. Note the things you see that stand out to you. The things that you enjoy the most, or that are special to you personally.”

“Okay…I’ll try,” he mumbled.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” she replied cheerfully, her smile growing wider. She gave him a little pat on the back then continued her stroll about the room.

Chris sat and thought about what she had said. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to look around and see what there was to see. He realized that he had always been so engrossed in his work that he had never really noticed anything in the room.

He started with the floor, because, well, why not? It was tiled and very clean. But there was nothing special about it. He moved his eyes around and found the sun to be a shocking presence throughout the room.

It poured in through the large glass windows on the westward side. The reds and yellows and oranges and especially the golds of the sunset splashed upon the floor and walls and the objects and the people in the room.

Chris was especially taken in by the golds. They were bold, but not too bold. They
were just right. They didn’t hurt the eyes, like the other colors tended to. They were warm and friendly and inviting.

Chris thought that the gentle color would be a lovely addition to any of his deepest desires, whatever those might be. He kept it in mind as he continued his studies.

Professor Gartner was back at the front of the room now. She was at her desk, buried in some sort of novel. Chris squinted to see the its title. He couldn’t make it out, but the glint of something else caught his eye. A necklace hanging loosely from the teacher’s throat. It was adorned with beads, most of them tiny.

However, one stood out among the others. A large stone the color of an emerald. It made up most of the weight that weighed the necklace down. Anyone who laid eyes upon it would be impressed. But to Chris it was more than that.

He was stunned, stupefied. It was the most gorgeous gem he had ever seen. He had a sudden, strong urge to rip it off the unworthy little silver chain and find it a better home, perhaps in a museum. But instead of doing that he added it to his mental list.

Next his eyes strayed towards a corner of the room, where one of the students kept their guitar during class. Chris could never forget that kid, whenever he saw him around campus he was always lugging around the guitar on his back no matter where he went. He had even wanted to wear it during the class, but Professor Gartner would not allow it.

So there the instrument sat every day, for the two hour long stretch of time that the class used up. Looking at its deep brown wood and its curves, Chris thought it showed a quiet defiance. He could only imagine what level of boldness it would express when actually played.

Chris had always found an interest in musicians, specifically guitarists. In fact, it was a secret childhood dream of his to become a famous musician. But unfortunately, he never did manage to gain the skill necessary. So instead he chose to admire from afar those who could play.

He had a passing thought that it would be lovely to view close-up the way a guitarist operated; the way his mind worked and the way he turned his thoughts and feelings into chords of music. Guitar playing, he decided was definitely something that should be included somehow in his art piece.

The final idea that became the foundation for Chris’s inspiration was a framed photo sitting on the teacher’s desk. It was a candid photo of two lovers. Chris assumed that one of them was his teacher.

The couple looked genuinely happy. They were all smiles and their eyes expressed a deep caring and love for the other person.

He felt a bit intrusive for staring at it, but at the same time he found it hard to look away. His heart ached a little. This was always something he had wanted. Someone to love. And more importantly, somebody to love him.

Or at least someone he could talk to with eyes as caring as those in the photo. Man or woman, it didn’t really make a difference, but he wanted someone.




Chapter 2

Thinking about those things he had taken special notice of, inspiration suddenly struck him. He began furiously drawing on the easel. In what felt like no time at all his object began to take shape. It was a human form….a head to be precise.

Chris didn’t know how it happened, but slowly he created the body of a person, a man who looked to be about his own age. It was no one he knew, but somehow the image had been locked inside of him somewhere.

When the drawing was complete, he moved back a bit to view his work. Chris had drawn the man sitting on a porch of some sort, with a guitar beside him. It was strange how detailed it was. But he liked the way it looked.

The face gave him a good feeling inside. There was, however, something missing, he noted. He decided it needed some color, to distinguish this man from any other.

He eagerly grabbed some colored pencils and once again began to work. When he was finally finished the easel held up a drawing of a man with golden blonde hair and caring green eyes.

Chris thought that it was strange that his mind had combined all of the things on his list together in such a way. But at the same time he was quite pleased with the result.

Smiling, he removed the large canvas from the easel and stood up. It was only then he noticed that the room was empty but for the teacher, who still sat at her desk, reading. When she heard him get up, though, she put down the novel and smiled.

“Glad to see you resurface,” she joked.

Chris blushed. He had no idea that he had been working on the drawing for so long. “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Why didn’t you make me leave?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you when you were finally having a creative flow. I knew you could do it.”

Chris rubbed his head shyly. “Yeah, well….I took your advice and it worked I guess.”

She just smiled again. “May I see it?”

“Sure,” Chris replied, holding up the canvas. Professor Gartner’s eyes widened when she saw it.

“Chris…that is stunning. I am very proud of you!”

“Thanks,” he replied with a shy smile.

“Go on and take that home with you, dear! Hang it up somewhere, be proud of it!”

Chris’s smile got a little wider. “I’ll do that Professor.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chris stood in his room, arms crossed and a frown on his face. The portrait of the unknown man was leaned against the wall. He didn’t have a way to hang it yet. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to. He felt weird about hanging a random person on his wall.

He looked at it closely, and he shivered. It gave him an odd feeling. It felt like the man’s eyes were staring into his soul. He quickly looked away. It was almost as if the man was real.

Once in bed, he squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried not to think about the staring eyes on his canvas. He drifted off into sleep, but it was a light sleep and he often dreamed that someone else was in the room with him. One of these dreams woke him up, he was sure he heard the creak of the hardwood floors where a person had stepped.

He sat up abruptly and fumbled around until he found the light switch. He pulled it and light flooded the room. He gave it a quick inspection. He didn’t see anyone. And there were no signs that anyone had been there. He reached for the light switch again and his heart stopped for a second. He had sworn that the portrait looked different.

Slowly he turned his eyes and looked at it again. He began to shiver uncontrollably. One of the man’s hands seemed to be stretching out towards him. He rubbed his eyes, but the image remained the same. He never knew why he did it, but slowly he got out of bed and crept over to the canvas.

Those green eyes really did feel like they were staring straight through him. Again he shivered. But he wasn’t afraid this time. He was stunned. The man’s eyes seemed to glow with life. And they seemed to be trying to tell him something. The hand reached out to him, calling him, craving the touch of another’s hand.

Hesitantly, Chris reached out. He placed one hand flat against the rough canvas, on top of the hand of the man. Nothing happened. Chris flushed with embarrassment. Of course nothing was going to happen. He started to move away when a sudden, strong pull stopped him.

He looked at the portrait and his eyes widened with shock. His hand was being held tightly by the hand of the man he had drawn. Chris swallowed nervously. Surely this couldn’t be real. It felt real, though. It felt like an actual human being’s hand was gripping his. He could feel the warm flesh of another person wrapped around his own.

But he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. What happened next? What was this strange and maybe not so imaginary man trying to tell him? The caring eyes of the man called out to him. Chris thought they might be telling him to come and join this strange world which he seemed to have stumbled upon. But he wasn’t sure, so he hesitated. He decided to ask a question.

“Do…y…you want me to go…in there?” He whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible. He felt silly talking to a drawing. He raised one shaky finger and pointed towards the canvas as he spoke. The man’s head seemed to nod.

Chris wasn’t quite sure what to do. He inched closer and closer to the rectangular board. The tips of his sock feet grazed the canvas. Ever so carefully, he kept walking.

Instead of being met with resistance, his foot went right into the board. His heart skipped a beat. The green eyes of the man seemed to cheer him on. Chris stepped all the way into the canvas, and into a world he never knew existed.



Chapter 3

The first thing he did was look at himself up and down. His body was composed of sketchy, yet somehow neat black lines, shaded in by the bright tones of colored pencil, which were identical in style to the ones he had drawn the mysterious man out of. The colors were a stark contrast to the background, which was completely white with the exception of the step that Chris had drawn.

He turned to the man then, who still had a firm grip on his hand. The man didn’t speak, but he flashed an encouraging smile. He picked up his guitar and swung it around his shoulder. Then he pulled Chris through a strange world of white until they reached a small door.

The man dug around in his pockets and pulled out a key. He inserted it into the lock and the door swung open slowly, revealing something that amazed Chris more than anything he had ever seen before.

There was a grassy hill. The long, healthy green grass swayed back and forth gently in some magical breeze. The sky was a beautiful mix of all the colors Chris could think of and more. The hues and shades were swirled around like ice cream, maybe chocolate swirl, but much more colorful.

Beyond that though, Chris could see more plain white. And he knew this spot must be very special. The man led Chris up the hill.. He stumbled numerous times, distracted by the beauty of the little patch of sky, or whatever it might have been called there.

He noted that as soon as he stepped on a section of the grass, it would disappear like magic. This led him to believe that this place was probably temporary and certainly very fragile. He was a bit nervous being here.

When they reached the top of the hill, the man stopped and Chris stopped beside him. The man looked at him and gave him a sideways grin. Then he pulled out of his pocket a thin, black writing utensil of some sort.

He began to draw the foundations of some sort of building. Somehow, it was inferred what the man wanted to create and after only a few sketchy lines, the drawing began to take shape on its own.

The lines twisted and curved and stretched until they all formed a single object, a fancy looking thing that Chris determined that it was a gazebo of some sort, like the kind of architectural piece one would place in their garden. It was beautifully designed and looked spectacular. But it seemed to be missing something.

Chris quickly realized what that one thing was when the man again began to draw. This time the lines joined to together in such a way that they formed a ladder. Its rungs went high up into the air, if there was air here at all.

Releasing his grip on Chris’s hand for the first time, the man speedily climbed the ladder. Chris wondered what he could be up to.

The man gave him a thumbs up. Then he reached out and touched the sky, or whatever it was, and took an armful of the color, then tossing it to the ground below. It slowly floated down in swirls to land gently on the plain gazebo. Then Chris knew what had been missing; the colors.

They splashed down from every angle and completely covered the white surface of the gazebo with bright and cheery colors. Once it was caked in the lovely hues, it began to give off a strange but not unpleasant glow.

The man carefully climbed down again, leaving a gaping white hole above him where colors had once been. Then he took Chris’s hand again, and with a smile led him up the steps and into the odd little gazebo.



Chapter 4

A thick mist filled the structure as the two men entered to stand under its roof. Upon first glance it was colorless, but if you looked closely you could see hints of soothing pastel colors contained in it. Perhaps these were the leftovers of what the mysterious man had taken from above.

The mist grew thicker and all Chris could really see were the brilliant green eyes of the man. They stood opposite one another, arms stretched out, holding hands, fingers intertwined. Chris could feel more and more of the fog pressing in from somewhere on the outside.

It was an almost unbearable presence in the little shelter, and soon Chris felt compelled to step closer to the center in hopes of escaping the force of the mist on his back. The man’s green eyes grew closer, but startlingly so. Chris realized that the man must have had the same idea, and now they were both standing quite near the center of the gazebo.

Even as they moved closer, their hands remained interlocked tightly. Soon they were so close that they had no choice but to press their forearms together, letting their entwined fingers rest on each other’s shoulders.

The strange pastel tinted mist seemed to have other powers too. Or maybe that was what Chris told himself, to excuse himself for his next actions.

He found himself staring at the sketched outline of the man’s beautiful pinkish lips. And suddenly he had to know just how they felt. Could they be real? Were they a tangible thing?

Using his feet for leverage, as he was an inch or so shorter than the man, Chris leaned in to test out those lips. They were real alright. But they felt better than that. It was like experiencing wave after refreshing wave in the ocean after spending a boiling hot afternoon on the sands of the beach.

The man didn’t mind this at all. In fact, it seemed that this had been what he waiting for all along. He flung Chris’s arms away, and took to gripping Chris’s shoulders instead of his hands, pulling him in closer and wrapping his arms around Chris’s slender frame.

It was as though he was holding on for dear life as Chris’s kisses grew more and more passionate, nearly drowning the poor man in a storm of pure ardent emotion.

Chris didn’t like the way his hands felt at his sides and he instinctually reached out to grab the shoulders of the man in a similar way as the man had gripped his. But that just didn’t feel right either.

Perhaps it had to do with the cold aura given off by the clothing which covered the man’s skin. Despite its soft feel, it was not inviting.

Chris gave the shirt a little tug, and broke off the kiss just long enough to give the man a pleading glance with his eyes. Might he get permission to remove that unpleasant piece of clothing? Those beautiful green eyes shone ever so brightly. Permission granted, they uttered fervently.

Slowly, savoring every bit of soft skin as it was revealed, Chris removed the shirt. He stroked the man’s chest, lingered on his abs, and slowly slid his fingers down is sides, memorizing the depth and length of each curve.

He wrapped his arms around the naked top half of the man. He wanted to feel his muscles move as he began to kiss him again. But a firm shoulder grip stopped his lips from making contact this time. Now the green eyes were the ones doing the begging. Chris smiled in a way that let the man know he was free to do whatever his heart desired.

So the shirt was stripped just moments before the man began working on Chris’s pants. All the while the two kissed each other with a burning passion that could not seem to be extinguished. Their chests rose in and out at a high speed. Each could feel the others muscles ripple with effort. They were both still trying, to some extent, to control their desires.

But they were failing, and failing fast. Chris felt like he was falling; cascading down through a dark sky at top speed. He didn’t have a parachute. But he didn’t need one. He wanted to hit the ground hard and fast, and feel everything.

When the man finally rid Chris of all the offending fabric he pressed his body up against the naked, smooth skin and kissed it fervently. Chris bit his lip and squirmed with pleasure as the man moved down lower and lower and began to stroke Chris’s thighs with his fingertips. He wished his vocal chords worked in this world. He wanted to voice his appreciation for this experience.

Instead he opted to show his gratitude by way of action. But just as he was reaching for the pants of the man, two hands gripped his wrists firmly. Chris looked up, half in surprise and half in disappointment.

But the man’s eyes didn’t look unwilling or regretful. They looked scared. Releasing one of Chris’s wrists, he slowly pointed to the outside.

It was only then Chris noticed that the mist had almost completely dissipated. Another thing he noticed is that the bright colors of the sky like area were melting down and down. When it hit the grass it turned into black and white. The grass shriveled up and died. And behind the melting colors, stood hundreds of men in uniforms, carrying some kind of weapon.

Chris couldn’t move. He stood there, naked and shaking, until the man threw his clothes at him, his eyes pleading that he hurry. He stumbled into the clothing as fast as he could then looked to the man again. He pointed towards the door. Chris took his hand though, showing that he wanted to stay here with him.

But the man would not allow it. He ripped his hand away and shoved Chris down the stairs of the gazebo and towards the door. Chris ran up to it, but was reluctant to leave. He turned around again, in time to see the entire gazebo collapse. His eyes widened in horror. The man had still been inside it.

But to his relief, one strong arm poked through the rubble, followed by another, and then man pulled himself out. Then he pulled out his special black utensil and hurriedly sketched a weapon, much like the ones the men in uniforms carried, only this one was far bigger.

He gripped it tightly with both hands and aimed it at the men. He was about to pull the trigger when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Chris still standing there. He glared at him, gesturing wildly for him to leave. But Chris had decided that he just couldn’t leave the man alone like this.

Frustrated, the man strode over to Chris and gave a long kiss on the lips. Then he opened the door and shoved Chris through it. Chris stumbled backwards and began to fall. He kept falling and falling through white nothingness until finally he landed with a hard thud on what felt like a wooden floor.

He looked around and realized with heartbreak that he was back in his room. Immediately he turned to the canvas. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he saw that it was blank. Tears began to well up in his eyes. His one true desire had been in his grasp, and he had lost it.

He could still feel the man’s warm and strong hands on his body. The feel of that final kiss was still a tingling sensation on his lips. He reached up and touched them lightly with his fingertips. It hadn’t felt like a goodbye kiss. But he figured it was crazy to think otherwise. So with a heavy heart and tear streaked cheeks, he crawled into his bed.

He was startled awake by a sharp knock on his door. He stumbled out of bed to answer it, shaking his head. He recalled a weird, but wonderful dream he had last night. It was only a vague recollection though, and it faded from his mind quickly as he opened the door and felt the warmth of summer’s heat.

And then it the memories did a quick reverse and came straight back to him when he looked up and saw who was at the door. His eyes filled with tears yet again and he began to shake uncontrollably.

Standing on his front porch was the man from the canvas. The man who was his deepest desire. He reached his arms out and gripped Chris’s shoulders to stop his shaking. Then he took one hand and wiped away Chris’s tears.

“Hello. My name is Jonathon, but you can call me Jonny.”

Chris thought he had the most beautiful voice in the world. Jonny smiled and it took his breath away, because this time he knew it was real. He took Jonny’s hand in his own and held on tightly.

“You might already know this, but I’m Christopher, better known as Chris. And I do believe we have quite a bit of catching up to do. So many missed hours…”

He drifted off, and gave him a sly wink. Jonny returned the gesture. Then Chris lead him inside his house (and inside other things too), and to the beginning of the rest of their lives.




THE END