In Your Dreams // phan

t h i r t y t w o

I'd yet to have a dream that only featured Phil until now. As such there was no dialogue to give me context, but that was okay. I didn't really need it.

Phil was riding his bike again, alone this time. I couldn't tell where he was; I don't even know if Phil knew where he was. When faced with cross roads only at the very last moment did Phil direct his handlebars. Like it was a split second decision, with no real thinking behind it.

He'll get lost, I found myself thinking. And knowing Phil, that's probably the most likely ending to the story. But for now either Phil didn't consider the fact that he'd get lost, or he simply didn't care. He had a content smile on his face as he rode along, quietly humming what sounded like the theme tune to Pokémon.

I was happy to just watch him ride his bike. I didn't need anything particularly exciting or riveting to hold my attention. It was peaceful and I loved it just the way it was.

Soon, though, he came to a stop beside a large tree. It was one of those trees ideally suited to climbing, with long, sturdy branches practically growing horizontally out of its trunk. Phil looked up at the tree for a bit, pondering, before stepping off his bike and laying it carefully on the leaf strewn ground.

Phil left his bag on his back as he headed toward the tree. He didn't take as long as he probably should have to consider the best handholds and footholds before he started climbing. Even though it looked like an easy climb I still felt a little bit of worry for his safety.

Largely though I felt a sense of adventure, because that's what Phil was feeling. It was an odd mix of excitement and terror, but overall an exhilarating feeling. He climbed high, not as high as he probably could have gone, but he'd found a nice 'v' between branches, perfect for seating in. So he did just that.

He pulled his backpack off and reached inside to pull out a book. I didn't catch the title but I was willing to bet anything that it was a love story of some description. It made me happy, because it was just such a Phil thing to do. How many boys carried romance novels with them on their biking adventures?

And now instead of watching him cycle, I merely watched him read. And again, I didn't find it boring at all. I never got bored looking at Phil. I heard the whistled song of a bird nearby, and felt the wind gently playing with my hair and tickling my face with the strands.

I had no body to experience these sensations; I was more of a shapeless, massless entity merely observing. But I somehow was experiencing them because Phil was experiencing them. It was difficult to describe, and was something that only those who dreamt could truly understand.

At some point my eyes fluttered open and I was back in the real world. There was no breeze, no chirping of birds, just the steady ticking of a clock and the warm embrace of blankets.

There was a Phil though. That part stayed the same.

He was sat next to me on the bed, his back up against the headboard as he typed on his phone. When he saw that I had woken up he locked his phone screen and moved to lie down next to me. His hand came up to brush the fringe out of my eyes, like the way the wind did from the dream, but it felt even better. Even more comforting.

Just as Phil opened his mouth to say something I spoke. "Did you get lost?" I mumbled. My brain was still sleep clouded, so I didn't really know why I'd asked that. It seemed important to me for some reason.

Phil blinked. "What?"

"That day you rode your bike to the tree," I breathed out softly. "And you climbed and read a book. Did you get lost?"

A smile twitched at the corner of Phil's mouth. "Hopelessly so. But which time are you referring to?"

I smiled as well and closed my eyes again. "I'm sorry you don't get dreams like mine."

"I've told you. I don't care about the dreams."

I remembered the conversation at lunch and the way Phil froze when the topic of dreaming came up. I knew that wasn't true, but I didn't call him out on it. "You should care," I told him. "You deserve nice dreams. Dreams that you can talk about with your friends."

"I have had some nice dreams," Phil reminded me and I shook my head.

"No. You've had some not terrible dreams."

I heard Phil sigh. "But the point is they're not all terrible. And they're not all nice. Nobody can exclusively have one or the other. We all have nightmares sometimes."

"I never have nightmares," I pointed out.

"...Yet. And I'll be there for you when that happens, like you've been there for me," Phil whispered as he continued to stroke my hair. If that happens, I corrected him in my head. I doubted it would though. He was just trying to make me feel better. Trying to make me feel like I wasn't the only one whose memories were things of nightmares.

I finally opened my eyes again and sat up, Phil following suit. I glanced at the clock; school should be finishing right about now. I felt a stab of disappointment in my chest that I couldn't last through to the end of the day. And a second stab of guilt that I caused Phil to miss the rest of the day too.

"Did you bring my homework?" I asked. Phil nodded but made no move to get it.

"Don't you think you should maybe take a break? Forget about school for a little bit?" Take a break from what? My last few years were one massive break from school. I couldn't afford to take anymore, so I shook my head.

"No," I said firmly, giving no further explanation. "But you should take a break. From taking care of me."

Phil laughed. "You make it sound like a chore. I'm happy to do it, you know."

"I know." But I didn't know. I suspected he was lying to be nice.