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Dancing in the Stars

dancing-in-the-stars

Every night, she dreams about the stars.

She always gets lost in them. Across the blanket of darkness are the celestial bodies that shine above in an infinite pattern and, for some reason, stars–even a billion miles away–have captured her attention a significant number of times more so than she could count.

A strong connection is what she always feel, making her so drawn to them. These tiny, twinkling dots appearing each night indicates just how vast the universe is and can be; how much depth there is for the world to possess; as well as the possibility that another world might exist in this same universe aside from theirs. Truth be told, the very picture of it all scares her... in a good way.

Yet, how these stars can be idle yet puzzling at the same time is beyond her. Of course, she knows how stars form constellations that serve as navigations, and for some, stars are relied on for creating astrological patterns that can possibly determine one's fate.

Yes, she knows every scientific fact there is about stars, but she also knows that the reason behind her mere curiosity isn't one of these.

She's certain it's something more – something deeper, something much closer to her heart than her mind.

Because every time her eyes meets these celestial bodies, numbness starts to consume her, followed by the loss of a star's reflection that had just twinkled in her eyes a split second ago. She doesn't know why gazing at the stars reminds her of a pain that is a stranger to the mind yet familiar to the heart. It's a kind of pain that she can't help but be drawn to, even if it felt like waking up in a sea of nothingness, a pit of darkness, and a constant emptiness that she's unsure how to fill.

"You okay?" a faint voice asks behind her.

She averts her gaze from the stars to look at them, a flicker of something undecipherable glossed past their eyes. "Yeah, it's just..." She stumbles over her words, staring into nothingness as night fell over the two of them, "I had a dream last night."

Silence.

"Oh yeah?" They raise an eyebrow, giving her their full attention. "What was in your dream?"

She meets their gaze, her hesitant ones tracing the outline of their lips and has somehow noticed the way it curved upwards and reflected the slightest streak of joy in their eyes. For a second there, she was convinced she'd melt and not regret a thing.

Every night, she dreams about the stars.

But not last night, no. Last night, she dreamt of something different–something unsettling yet soothing at the same time, as if she had found a home she had never been to in the first place.

"It's not a what," she tells them in a voice barely above a whisper, "it's a who."

The lines that strewed across their forehead got more visible in curiosity. "Then who was in your dream?"

She looks up.

Every time she asks the stars the reason for her hollow tears, she's met with complete silence. Yet she never once lost hope that, someday, the stars might finally give her the answer she may not or may have hoped all along.

She sighs deeply, mustering up all the courage she has left in her to say one simple word,

"You."

The silence that followed was louder than anything she's ever heard before. And she's heard enough fireworks in her lifetime.

Maybe in another universe, she'll know why.

© 2021 Adiella Domingo

Comments

BRENDA ARLEDGE from Washington Court House on September 15, 2021:

Interesting piece on stars here.

It starts out like prose & ends like a story.

One sometimes never knows the answer to why?

But maybe gazing at those stars will help.

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