Westville Comfort
The sky echoed my solumn that rainy Friday. Life has drug me through the mud a lot lately. Work has been difficult pulling multiple doubles to cover for people, who quite frankly couldn’t care less about even showing up. Mom and Dad have been fussing over bills and house repairs. The only one that seemed to have no care was Dad’s Labrador, Bruce, who would lay around and stare out the window at the passing cars all day.
In the midst of the struggles and stress of home life, I felt like I was in a waking dream. For the past month, the same dream played over and over again like a song on repeat. I would glance across the room of the local coffee shop and I see her face.
Her soft amber eyes enhanced by her black glasses, fringe blonde hair, and a soft spoken voice that could comfort the loneliest of hearts. Her flannel shirt was covered by a denim jacket that lined with her khaki pants and leg knee high boots. And around her neck was a silver, heart shaped locket.
I can’t explain what it is about her, but my heart cries out to know more, to see her one more time, and to hear her voice echo like a favorite melody. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, nor was I exactly sure what I would even say to her.
“Hello”, felt to awkward. “I like your hair”, just felt creepy. I wasn’t even sure why I was questioning it. She was just a girl in my dreams, what were the chances we would even meet in real life?
No matter the reasons, no matter how ridiculous it felt, I had to see her. I had to find her. I had to…I had to try.
After a short ride, I hoped off the bus on 18th Street to our local bookstore and coffee shop: Westville Comfort. The humble wooden building wasn’t a large library of materials like many of the big box stores, but it was enough for me. The wafting smell of new books coupled with the scent of freshly brewed cups of pure excitement danced in my head and left me in a desire to stay here all day.
I shook off the all too familiar sensations and desires to browse their wares as I made my way to the coffee shop. The rain appeared to be keeping most of the locals at home. Half the Baristas were restocking or wiping down their stations, while one loan cashier stood at the ready, waiting for orders.
I glanced to the left and right, but most of the seats were vacant aside from a few patrons enjoying a cozy book and a streaming cup of coffee. I shared their desire to escape. That’s why I came prepared.
I walked through the line and bought myself a white chocolate mocha to warm my cold hands on this cold afternoon. I sat down at a far table by the window to watch the world go by as I read. I opened my back pack and opened a book by Elaine Bishop, the Seeker’s Pride.
She wrote stories of incredible quests ans journeys to fulfill ancient prophecies and restore broken families. Between the dragons, the sword fights, and the new family the hero was slowly gaining on his quest of redemption, I was hooked immediately. I was half way through her book when life started twisting out of control. I thought to myself, “What better time to wait for her than on my rare day off?”
I gave one more hard scan of the room before I dared open the book. Nothing was going to stop me from finding her. To my dismay, I was still the only one in the room.
Before I could fully immerse myself in the story, the rain began to pick up speed as the rain fell harder and the wind blew stronger, knocking the window back and forth. I stared out the window and my mind began to wander.
In my mind, I saw her passing by in a thick raincoat and umbrella giving me a warm smile with shiny white teeth flashing at me. I waved at her as she kept walking the street. I snapped myself out of it as I realized barely anything could be seen through that thick rain.
I shook off the image and attempted to read again. It wasn’t long before more intrusive thoughts to over. “What if she’s not as nice as I picture it? What if she was completely superficial and her kind appearance was only skin deep?”
Without warning, an even worse realization struck me: “What if she’s taken? What if the girl of my dreams is already spoken for? I would make myself look like a fool?”
I managed to catch myself as I caught my intrusive thoughts spiraling out of control. I sipped my warm cup and allowed myself a moment to take on each sensation. The warm liquid coursing through my body wrapping me in a familiar warmth like a blanket, the caffeine awakening my tired psyche, and my damp hand were quickly warmed up.
I was done procrastinating. I set my drink down and attempted again to pick up my book. Even if it was just a chapter, I was determined to continue the story. The hero is on the brink of discovering who took his family from him. I’ve played the story in my mind a million times and I can take a few guesses, but I had no clear person in mind that could be responsible.
As I picked up the book, I heard the bell of the front door open as the bored barista perked up and welcomed the patron to the bookstore. Curiosity almost had me look up, but I was conflicted between the finding answers and waiting on a woman that may never come.
I gripped the cover of my book, repeating the same first line of the book in my head while I tried to focus. My attempts were in vein as an entrancing smell of Japanese Cherry Blossom crossed my path and cluttered my mind with dozens of sensations.
I glanced up and I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Against all odds, against everything my brain tried to convince me of: there she was with her hair soaking wet and dripping as her entire denim jacket was soaked from the downpour.
I took a moment to analyze the situation as disbelief plagued my mind. She wasn’t a dream: soft amber eyes behind black glasses, blonde hair, a denim jacket with a flannel shirt underneath, khaki pants, and knee length boots. Only one thing was missing, but I was too far into watching to hear their audible conversation.
I quickly composed myself as I pretend to read the book while I waited for an answer. Could this be her? If so, now was my chance to come up with something to say. In that moment, a simple “hello” seemed sufficient.
Then, when I thought everything else could make sense, I heard a name that almost felt impossible in our small section of the world as the Barista called out: “Order for Elaine Bishop! White Chocolate Mocha!”
My heart skipped a beat. My favorite author was here!? And she’s drinking the same thing as me!? I had to stop before I made a fool of myself. I felt my legs become jittery as excitement overwhelmed me.
My excitement was quickly overshadowed by shock as I heard her soft spoken reply: “That’s me. Thanks, Angela.” It was impossible, but it was her! Everything from my dream was right there!
Before I could keep debating, she glanced over my way and our eyes met. Everything stopped. The rain was silenced, the baristas talking was just mouth movement, and the rushing wind might has well been all in my head.
“Excuse me,” She spoke to me. “Is this seat taken?”
“Uh…of course not.”
She smiled shyly as she sat down and set her purse on the ground. “This is going to sound strange, but…I had a dream about you. You were sitting here sad and I…I really needed someone to talk to. We only spoke briefly, but…everything felt better afterwards.”
She dreamt about me? This was incredible. After weeks of thankless work and listening to mom and dad argue all day, this feels like a light piercing through the darkness.
“That’s…amazing,” I began to say. “I have been having and rough days at work, but…more than anything, I actually had a dream about you to.”
Hey face blushed as she pulled her hair behind her ear and smiled. “Really? What was your dream?”
“Well,” I began to explain. “This moment right here, down to what you are wearing. We never spoke, but your face felt so familiar to me. I…I had no idea it would turn out to be my favorite author, here of all places.”
Her hands shot to her mouth. “Favorite!? No way! Are you being serious?”
“Yes!” I insisted. “I’m half way through your book and I can’t wait to finish it. I’m about to find out who killed Armon’s family. I think it’s going to be a plot twist that will throw me off.”
She giggled as she continued to blush. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
Before I continued the conversation, I set the book down and focused on her. “I couldn’t help but notice you said in your dream that you needed someone to talk to. I’m a pretty good listener. I know we just met, but I’ll be happy to hear you out.”
She flashed a smile as she sat more relaxed. “I’d like that,” she replied as her hands unconsciously rested on top of mine. I grinned and smiled back at her as she began to talk. In that moment, nothing else mattered anymore. In the darkest of days, everything finally felt right.
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About
James is a Christian Fiction writer who puts his faith first and foremost in all his inspiration. After a decade of retail life, he seeks to join the writing world by creating a safe reading selection for teen/young adult readers. He is the author of a 10-book series called the Grace Series and the Fantasy series Clash of Light and Dark.
James follows the teachings of the King James Bible and believes every day is another chance to learn from the Creator and spend every day taking steps closer to becoming more Christ-like.
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