Chapter 6: You Were Part Of A Dream

 

“Sam.”

“Sierra.”

“What is happening?”

“Your consciousness is expanding. Allow it to. Take your time.”

“Why do I taste whipped cream and strawberries?”

“That’s the seventh dimension.”

“Is that why I smell toast?”

“No, you are smelling toast because you’re having several strokes per second.”

“Um,” Sierra said, and frowned. Sammaël gently patted the back of her hand. Human minds were almost as frail as their bodies, but thankfully, here and now, it had at least a little bit of control over what was happening, and it could keep Sierra from keeling over, at least.

“Do not worry. I’ll guide you through to the other side. Just do not let go.”

“Uh. Gotcha.” Sammaël felt Sierra squeeze its hand a little tighter. She was clearly worried, but it wasn’t planning on letting her drown in the spaces between the cosmos and the one next to it. Especially not considering it was the one that had brought her here. “Sam?” she asked. It squeezed her hand back, enjoying the gentle warmth of their fingers against each other. 

“Yes?”

“I’m scared to open my eyes,” Sierra said. Sam looked at her. Her closed eyes were visibly flickering back and forth, trying to look at all the information an expanded mind was projecting on the back of her eyelids. “I’m worried the world will terrify me. Or I’ll go crazy.”

“It will not,” Sammaël said. “You will not. This may not be very comforting, but it may help you to know that you are now a step closer to being the kind of thing the world is, traditionally, scared of.”

“It’s not, no!” Sierra said. “What does that mean? Did I grow tentacles?!” Her eyes flew open and she looked down at herself, and then made eye contact with Sammaël. It felt a strange noise coming from its own mouth, and immediately clamped it shut, until it realized it had laughed involuntarily. “I’m fi—” Sierra said sheepishly, interrupting herself to look at the air around her. “Oh.”

“Take your time,” Sammaël said. “If this is overwhelming, I may be able to dial these experiences back to a more agreeable scale.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sierra said as she held a hand up. “I think I can see time.” 

“Interesting.” Sammaël observed her for a moment. “Ordinarily, one can only observe fourth-dimensional parallel motion when moving perpendicular to the stream.”

“What do you mean ordinarily?” she said, and looked at Sam. A realization started to dawn on her. “You were never Abraham, were you?” Sammaël shook its head.

“No, I wasn’t. I think you are ready. Close your eyes.”

“What am I going to see?”

“How I see the universe,” it said. “And how it sees me.” Slowly, Sammaël allowed its vision, the fullness of its being and perception, to flow into her. For the first time in her life, through closed eyes, Sierra became aware of the universe. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“Sam,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is.”

“There’s so much of it. All at once.” 

“There is.” 

They sat in silence. Sure, human beings had seen the stars, but very few people ever lie down on the grass, far away from the pollution of light, and look up at the night sky, and see the full infinity of the universe. Few people experience the vertigo of what it is like to be fully untethered. And even those who have, have never seen what the universe is actually like. It’s like trying to see the shape of a balloon from the inside.

“Is this how you see the world?”

“It used to be. Now I’m here.” There. The last step. With a deep breath, which Sierra mirrored, Sammaël turned the vision inward. Before, it had shown her what the universe looked like to a being for whom dimensions were more like suggestions and planets were snacks. Now, it was time to show her what that being looked like. With more than a little trepidation, Sammaël revealed to her the magnitude of its being. 

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“That’s you?”

“The part that isn’t in here.”

“Oh.”

“What are you?”

“There is no word for what I am. I simply am.”

“How old are you?”

“Older than time itself.”

“That doesn’t… how…”

“I simply am, Sierra.”

“Why didn’t you show me this before?”

“I tried to. You stabbed me in the throat.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Not this time, no,” Sam said, trying not to sound bitter. Sierra sat in silence for a while, until Sammaël was starting to get worried that maybe her brain had turned into soup after all. “Sierra?”

“Yes, sorry. This is a lot.” Sierra opened her eyes. There were stars in them. “This is real, isn’t it?” she said, and looked at Sammaël in a way nobody ever had. Nobody had ever seen it, not really. And nobody had ever looked at it with something other than fear or revulsion. But Sierra seemed interested. Fascinated.

“It is,” Sammaël said, taking note of the fact that she still hadn’t let go of its hand. “How are you feeling?” It had never had a conversation before this day. Sure, it had, once upon a time, spoken to mortal creatures on various planets. Usually, a cult popped up a few days later, and usually they would try to start summoning it. It was exhausting. 

Not only had it had a conversation, but for the first time in its eons-long life Sammaël had opened itself up to another being. It had trusted someone with itself, and with how it saw the world. 

“I’m… confused. Scared. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know who you are. Does that mean Abraham really is dead?” she asked. Sammaël nodded. “I can tell. You’re not him. He’s not in there, in your eyes. I can see it.” She squeezed its hand again. It was a welcome touch. 

“That’s r—” Sammaël started, but a low rumbling interrupted it. It looked around. “The room is shaking,” it said just as the cups started to rattle. “Strange. That’s not supposed t—”

“I don’t think that was you,” Sierra said, standing up and walking over to the window on slightly unsteady legs. Sam followed her as more and more items in the room began to rattle and move. “That’s weird, we don’t get earthquakes h—” She fell backwards, Sammaël catching her in its arms. The floor underneath them rose, as if it was a blanket on the back of a whale. Splinters filled the air as it shattered. Sammaël had the presence of mind to toss itself aside and Sierra to the other, ignoring the signals of pain the frail body was barraging its brain with. “Sam!” Sierra yelled. 

Sammaël looked over just in time to see a part of the building start to peel away. The part Sierra was on. As if in slow-motion, she was starting to fall away. Sam threw itself forward, knocking the wind out of its body as it landed roughly, and in that moment, it didn’t care. It felt pure unadulterated relief for the first time in its life when its hand closed on her wrist, and then pure unadulterated pain when its shoulder was yanked almost out of its socket. “Do not—” it groaned, barely able to breathe, “don’t let go!”

Sierra wasn’t wasting her breath, and latched onto its arm, pulling herself up as half of her apartment crashed into the street behind her. That’s when Sammaël saw it. It wasn’t an earthquake. There was a massive sinkhole where the street used to be, a gaping maw swallowing chunks of the surrounding buildings. 

Sammaël felt its shoulder pop as Sierra pulled herself up and onto the ledge. They scrambled away from the gap, neither of them caring about the scrapes and splinters they’d both suffered. The floor lurched as the building fell apart behind them, plaster and wood crumbling away. “What,” Sierra gasped as they leaned against the far wall, “is happening?”. The floor felt somewhat stable here, and Sammaël’s arm hung limply by its side. 

“I do not know,” it said, and shoved the arm back into its socket, knocking the wind out of its body again. And breathing was already unpleasant. “Ow,” it hissed through its teeth. “I did not enjoy that. These bodies are spectacularly imperfect.”

“Jesus, Sam, did you just… What is happening?” 

“This isn’t right,” Sammaël said with a groan. “Everything is wrong. We should get downstairs. I don’t trust the rest of this building not to come down on us.” Sierra nodded and pulled it up by its good arm. 

Leading the way down the stairs, Sierra helped keep Sammaël steady as they avoided more and more falling debris. There were people screaming in the distance, muffled by the sound of shattering stone, falling glass and distant sirens. Every breath hurt. They saw just as they were about to make their way to the bottom floor. The front door was gone, same as the street and a chunk of the building. Sammaël sat down, massaging its shoulder. Even if they had to get out as quickly as possible, it needed a breather. “I don’t suppose you have a back door?”

“No dice,” Sierra said, looking around. “Maybe we can get to a neighboring building from the roof?” She looked up just in time for a giant piece of plaster to fall down and explode between them. 

“That roof?” Sammaël said dryly as it stood back up. “Maybe we can—” it said, when the wall fell over, outward, into the building next door. Whatever it had been, it was rapidly becoming flat. “That works,” it said, and Sierra quickly hurried over to help it climb over the rubble. The further they were from the sinkhole, the more comfortable it was getting. 

Whatever had just caused the sinkhole to appear and everything to go wrong, right now the most important part was putting some distance between them and it. “Careful,” Sierra said as she helped it through what had at some point been a glass storefront. They stepped onto the street. It was chaos. The sinkhole was larger than Sammaël at first thought it was, and seemed to still be expanding some. 

“How did this happen?” Sierra said as she looked up at her building. “Ughh. My stuff!”

“You don’t seem… particularly upset,” Sammaël said. “I’d think… I feel like losing all your belongings would be more… more.” Sierra looked at it and shrugged. 

“It’s just stuff. I can get more stuff”, she said. “The important thing is that we both made it out alive, that we’re both safe. Besides, whatever Abe didn’t break, he pawned. I’m used to not putting a lot of value in things.” Despite her knowing Sammaël wasn’t him, it still felt the urge to apologize. “Still, though. I’ll miss my bed.” She patted her pocket. “I’ve got my phone and my credit cards, so we’ll have a place to stay.”

“You’re remarkably calm,” Sammaël said. “Not that I mind.”

“I’ve recently had someone expand my understanding of the universe,” Sierra said with a smile as she turned back to it. “Let’s just say that it’s given me some perspective.”

“Ah,” Sammaël said. “I am… I’m glad I could help.”

“I am too, Sam,” Sierra said. “Now, let’s get out of here.” She looked at the hole, and started walking away from it. “Just in case that thing expands. I think I need somewhere to sit down, and I want to have a look at your shoulder. Maybe a hotel.”

“That would be good,” Sammaël said. Just then, the floor trembled again, an aftershock, and Sammaël fell to its knees. There was a whistling noise. Sam stood back up just in time to see Sierra look down at her chest. There was a red spot on her shirt, and it was slowly expanding. In the middle of the red spot was a little gray point. She touched it with her finger. 

“Huh,” she said as she fell forward into Sammaël’s arms, an arrow sticking out of her back. Behind her, from a second story window, a shocked looking teenager with headphones, lowered his bow. 

“You have got to be kidding me!” Sam screamed as Sierra died in its arms.