The Mystic's Dream
by Kip-chan

Part One

~

A clouded dream on an earthly night
Hangs upon the crescent moon
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn . . .

~

//We are all golden, with golden souls and golden hearts. In some of us,
there's more protecting that gold than in others. It's still there, though.
The deeper you have to dig to find it, the more valuable it is.

I see him as clearly as if we were actually together. This is all a dream,
that much is obvious. Why, in real life, would we be lying together on a
bed, tangled in fine linen sheets and each other's limbs?

He kisses my ear. "Love, you know I have to go."

I sigh. "I wish you didn't have to."

He smiles, stroking my cheek with his free hand. His other hand is still on
my back, keeping me snug against him. It's our last night together for a
long time, and we have to make the most of it. Thus, no clothes. "If I
don't, they'll come for you too. They'll kill you and make me watch."

"I don't want to die," I say, "but it'll be worse than death if you don't
return. Promise me you will!"

He hesitates, but I give him the look that gets him every time. "I promise,"
he says, and I nod.

"You'd better keep that promise," I say. "Kiss me again?"

Tease that he is, this time he kisses the corner of my mouth. I am about to
reprimand him when he decides to be nice and kisses me for real this time.
He's golden, my lover. There was never a doubt in my mind about that.

The kiss is over far too soon. When at last he pulls away, there are tears
in both of our eyes. "I love you, Colin," he says to me. "Don't you dare
forget that."

I favor him with a smile of my own. "I won't," I vow.//

I awaken to the rising sun. It is round and red, like a droplet of blood,
and the sky is his skin, as golden as his heart. The thought makes me
shiver; imagining him bleeding makes me squeamish. I am alone in my bed, the
sheets are flannel, the morning is cold, and I wonder why I dreamed about a
man I've long considered just a friend. The dream will stay with me for a
while, at least into the afternoon. I'll probably try to dissect it, pick it
apart for clues about its origin, and fail miserably at that.

I'll have to see him later, I realize. We're not filming new episodes of
"Whose Line Is It Anyway?" right now, but we did agree to help a friend with
his movie, an entry for a film festival. It would be rude to back out now;
worse, it would raise suspicion. I have to go, and I have to face him. Maybe
I'll figure a few things out about the dream when I do.

~

Part Two

~

Birds in flight are calling there
Where the heart moves the stones
It's there that my heart is longing for
All for the love of you . . .

~

I pull into the driveway of my friend's ranch home, and for a minute, the
desert of my dream comes back to me. Instead of the usual grass, he has
recreated the Sahara. Electric fans stir up the sand, and miniature dunes
have formed already. Flesh-and-blood fans have congregated by one of their
metal counterparts, carrying signs and items for someone to sign. I hope to
high heaven my friend doesn't expect me to do the outdoors scene. I get out
of my car and am met by my friend, Max. He has a wide grin on his face and
what appears to be a pair of Ryan's shoes on his feet. "Yo, man!" he says to
me. "Long time no see, Mochrie!"

"It's only been a week," I point out. "Where's Ryan?"

"He's waiting for you inside," Max says. "Is something wrong? You look like
someone just told you your mother was dead or something."

"I'm fine," I say. "I had strange dreams last night." I hope he's just
exaggerating; if Max can tell how unsettled I am, Ryan will know the entire
story before I say a word.

"If you say so," mumbled Max. "Oh, look, there's Gillian. I'd better say hi
to her." He sweeps past me, eager to chat with one of the stars of "The
X-Files" before she gets caught up in her work. I go inside; what else can I
do? Sooner or later I'll have to face him.

He's sitting in one of Max's overstuffed chairs - there are six in the
living room, with wildly patterned upholstery. Ryan's favorite is the one
with the bright blue roses on the white background. It speaks to him,
apparently. I sit in the chair next to his and wave hello.

"Morning," he says to me. "What's up?"

"Nothing, nothing," I say. "How are you?"

"Good," he says warily.

*Time to start acting normal again,* I remind myself. "What are we doing
today?"

"Some desert scene or something," Ryan shrugs. "It came to him in a dream,
he said."

"You don't say," I mutter. "When are we scheduled for?"

"Around sunset," Ryan says. "If we do it then, he can make it look like
early morning instead of almost night."

Deja vu, anyone? The desert was a coincidence, but this is downright spooky.
I almost wish Gillian Anderson were actually Dana Scully; at least she'd be
able to help me. At least I have most of today before we do our scene.

I want to tell him about my dream, but the words won't come. I'm so curious
- did he dream the same thing? He seems noormal, but then, he's a good actor.
I can hear him speaking to me, both in reality and in my dream.

"Colin?" he asks. "What's up with you today?"

"Nothing," I say. "Tired, that's all."

"You seem a little distracted," he persists. "Is something wrong?"

No, Ryan. I only dreamed that you and I were lovers, and we were in the same
desert that Max has in his backyard. I only dreamed something I never
thought about before. Damn it, it took a dream to pull the idea out of my
repressed memory: once upon a time, I liked you as more than a friend.

We were younger when I last thought about us like that. We were just
starting out as comedians, and he was just like Max - carefree, with an eye
for strange shoes. We were each good, but together, there was no stopping
us. We made everyone laugh when we shared a stage. The amount and volume of
the laughter depended on what we did. Ordinary things made them laugh
politely; the belly laughs came from the times we played at being gay.
Whenever he flirted with me, they clapped a little louder, and if he ever
touched me, their screams echoed everywhere. Once he kissed me; that's
probably why my dream was so vivid last night. I was remembering the kiss.

We got our loudest applause ever that night.

I'm brought back to reality by his fingers snapping near my ear. "Snap out
of it, Colin," he says. "You know, Max will understand if you can't work
today."

"No," I say. "I have to work." It's destiny or some such thing. I decide to
go with the flow because I don't want to find out what will happen if I
don't.

"Fine," says Ryan. "Hey, I think they're starting filming soon. You want to
go watch?"

I nod. "Lead on, Macduff."

~

Part Three

~

A painting hangs on an ivy wall
Nestled in the emerald moss
The eyes declare a truce of trust
And then it draws me far away . . .

~

I watch Gillian's scenes from behind the camera, on the little television
screen that shows what's being taped. She's an exceptional actress; I've
always admired her. Today, she slips easily into the role of the Mongolian
soothsayer. We've slipped back in time a thousand years, and this is the
Gobi Desert.

She reads someone's hand and spins them a tale of what their life will be
like. Her voice is mesmerizing, so much so that I don't notice that Ryan's
sitting next to me until the end of that scene. When I do see him, I jump a
little. "Hi," I say. "Didn't hear you sit down."

"Oh, didn't you know? My parents trained me as a cat burglar. They wanted me
to have something to fall back on if comedy didn't work out," Ryan jokes.
"The fact that 'Agent Scully' up there can really act might have had
something to do with it, too."

"Is it lunchtime yet?" I ask. "I forgot to eat breakfast, so I'm really
hungry."

Ryan nods. "Max's friend Sarie whipped up her 'special' casserole, but I've
heard there's this really good diner in town." He stands up, then offers me
a hand. "My treat?"

How can I refuse? I let him help me up, despite the fact that he's the one
with the bad back. We wave goodbye to everyone and start walking. The town
is only about a mile and a half away, after all.

We've been walking for about five minutes when he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I say. "What gave you that idea?"

He gives me a skeptical look. "I know you better than to believe that," he
says. "You haven't been yourself all day."

Well, who am I supposed to be, Clive Anderson? "Sorry," I say. "Didn't sleep
too well." I'm lying, but I can't very well tell him what I dreamed about.
He'd tell me to go play in the road... the Santa Monica freeway, that is.

Oddly enough, he buys it. "I hate those nights," he says. "We all have
them." He checks his watch. "Hey, if we don't start walking a little faster,
they'll be serving dinner at the diner, not lunch." He grabs my hand and we
half-walk, half-jog the rest of the way there.

At the diner, we end up in a booth along an ivy-covered wall. There's a
painting right over Ryan's head, of a man in a sheik costume. Once again, it
feels like someone's dancing over my grave. The man has Ryan's eyes, lovely
green ones that shine like emeralds. I can't see a signature anywhere; I
wonder who painted it?

Ryan and I take our time on our way back. He must think I'm still tired from
'not sleeping' last night, because he puts his arm around my back and tells
me to rest my head on his shoulder. I can't refuse; refusal is another
suspicion-raising thing, and why would I want to? I have an excuse for being
close to him today.

By the time we get back to the ranch, it's mid-afternoon. Max is the first
to see us coming, and he runs out to meet us, script in hand. He barely
blinks at the sight of us strolling along like lovers. "You don't have to
stick to the exact script, but please try to keep the general idea," he
directs us. "It was clear in my mind; I trust you'll be able to act my
dream."

Ryan takes the script with his free hand. "Got a room we can borrow?"

"Just find something upstairs that's open," Max says. "I think a few of the
others are using my bedroom for a skit, but the guest room shouldn't be
occupied."

Ryan leads me up the stairs; I wonder if he has sensed how rattled I really
am? Once he and I are inside the guest room, he closes the door. I expect
him to start reading the script, but he sits me down on the bed and stands
before me.

"Something's wrong," he says. "You won't say what, but I know there's
something. If you don't tell me, I'm going to worry for the rest of the day,
so spit it out."

Damn. When he's in this mood, there's no changing his mind. "I had a strange
dream," I say to him. "Not a bad one, just a strange one."

"That's more like it," he says, sitting down next to me. "What was it
about?"

I want to tell him, get it out in the open, but I find I can't. I'm scared
of losing his friendship. I know he probably wouldn't leave me because of
that, but I don't know exactly how it'd affect him.

"Colin, please," he says, "whatever it was, you can tell me. I won't laugh."

Of course you won't laugh! You'll scream and run far, far away. I shake my
head. "Can we look at the script first? I told you what was wrong. We can
talk about this later, can't we?"

Ryan, defeated, hands over the script. I flip through it; sure enough, it's
what I've dreamed. The concept, the dialogue... all of it is familiar. I
give it back. "I know this," I say. "I dreamed it." I get up and walk to the
sliding doors on the far side of the room, the ones that lead out to the
balcony. I'm about to put an inch of glass between us when he says my name.

"Colin," he says to me, very quietly. "This was what you dreamed?"

"Yeah," I say. "It's also what Max dreamed. I can't explain it myself."

Ryan joins me outside. "It's okay. Sometimes these things happen."

"What, people dreaming about romances with their best friends?"

"Like I said, things happen."

"You're not mad at me, then?"

"That would be hypocritical of me. No, I'm not mad."

That would be... but that would imply... but I can't ask now. He's got his
hands in his pockets and his eyes are focused on something in the distance.
He's closing himself off. "I know how I'm going to play it," I say to him.
"I hope you figure out how you will before we start filming." I leave him
alone with his thoughts. He looks like he needs the time.

~

Part Four

~

Where deep in the desert twilight
Sand melts in pools of the sky
Where darkness lays her crimson cloak
Your lamps will call, call me home . . .

~

We're ready. Sort of. We're in our places, in costume (shirts off, but we
get to keep our pants since they're covered by the blankets) and waiting for
Max to give us the signal to begin. I'm trying to get in character, and not
having much luck; Ryan was always the better actor. Or was he? How well have
we been acting in our daily lives?

I know I'm most honest onstage, anyway.

"Action," says Max, and we hear the cameras whirring in the background. It's
showtime.

"Do you have to go?" I ask Ryan. I look into his eyes for the first time
since before the balcony. What's he seeing when he stares out at me, anyway?

"Love," he says, his voice cracking a little, "you know I must." His pupils
are dilated slightly. Is that good or bad?

"But why?" I am racking my brain for answers. His body language really isn't
giving much of anything away. He is, as I've said, an exceptional actor.

"If I don't go, they'll come for you," Ryan says. "They'll find you and kill
you."

I nod. "Promise me you'll come back?"

He kisses me right below my ear, not far from where he kissed me in the
dream. "I vow by all that's holy." The expression on his face is so genuine
that it could get him nominated for a thousand awards. Maybe he'll win
something after this movie gets finished.

"You'd better keep that promise," I tell him. "I-"

He's a lot more decisive in reality. He gives me the best damn kiss I've
ever had, in front of Max, the camera, the fans, and even Ms. Anderson. We
break for air, and I fall back a little, trying to collect my wits. Silence
falls over the entire ranch; there are only the sounds of calling birds and
the rustling valley grasses to be heard.

"Cut," Max says quietly. "That was amazing."

We look back at him. I have to turn around to face Max, not an easy thing
when there are blankets to contend with as well as someone else's arms.
Surprisingly enough, Ryan doesn't release me after I've moved. What a sight
we must make - shirts off, lying in a recreation of a Mongolian tent,
staring up at a man who's probably only half as old as we are and hanging on
his every word.

"That was so real!" Max continues. "You captured the characters perfectly.
It's almost as if you've played them before. How did you do that?"

"Came to me in a dream," Ryan says. "Just like you and Colin." He sits up,
kicks away the blankets, and ambles away before anyone can say another word.

The sun is setting behind the hills. It's a near-perfect imitation of the
sunrise I awoke to just this morning. There are deeper shades of pink and
gold, but other than that, everything's the same. I crawl to the edge of the
tent and see Ryan walking towards the ranch. The sunlight catches on
something bright. I see a golden haze surround him.

I smile. It has taken some digging, but I think I've found the truth at
last.

~

Part Five

~

And so it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
And now I feel, feel you move
Every breath, breath is full . . .

~

Night falls quickly, bringing with it a beautiful, clear night. The moon has
risen high in the sky, lighting the guest bedroom with one of her beams. I
steal inside quietly; I only need to get my shirt, which I left up here
during filming.

I am not alone. Ryan has stretched out on the bed. He lies there with his
hands behind his head and his ankles crossed. "I thought you'd be along," he
says. "You were good today."

"You were better," I reply. "You've got a real gift."

Ryan shakes his head. "You're gifted too. Your gifts are different, though.
You can make almost anyone's day a nice one."

I put on my shirt. "Isn't that what we're all supposed to do?"

"Yes, but you succeed more often than most," Ryan says. "You always make me
laugh."

I fiddle with the buttons on the cuffs of my shirt. "So, I guess I'll see
you around?"

"More like tomorrow morning, and tonight, and if you're lucky, nobody will
notice that you didn't go home after today," Ryan tells me. "I have the key
to the room. It locks from the inside, not the outside, so we don't have to
worry about anyone barging in. We can sort a few things out, if nothing
else."

By now, both of my eyebrows have shot halfway up my forehead. They'd be at
my hairline if it still existed. "You're serious?"

"For once," Ryan says. "Come on, it's been a long time since we got a chance
to sit and just talk. We need to, I think, now more than ever." He pats the
bed. "Plenty of room here."

I join him on the bed. "So, what now?"

"Maybe we could start with something simple," he says, and moves closer to
me. I turn my head sideways to find him staring at me with the same look in
his eyes that he had earlier, when we were in the tent.

What's he doing? There is no time to wonder. Without really knowing what
we're doing, we lean towards each other. We're going so slowly that I'm not
surprised at all when we meet in the middle in a kiss.

Certainly, it's a good thing the door is locked now.

~

Part Six

~

It's far too late to think about driving home now. I wouldn't dare get up,
even if I wasn't being held down by a sleeping man. I'm tired (three
straight hours of... fun... usually have that effect), so tired I can barely
see straight. I can only lie there in the darkness and grin like a maniac.

Mine! Amazing! After all the obsessing I did, I could have just told him and
he wouldn't have minded at all. I'm still wondering why I never noticed
before. We did do some talking, and he said he wouldn't mind making this
work. We're going to start making plans to move in together soon.
Everything's as it should be for now, I guess.

I feel myself falling asleep. It's another one of those dreams, only this
one's different.

//Another morning in the desert dawns bright and fair, and I lie in bed,
hoping that today will be the day he comes home to me. I am about roll over
and try to go back to sleep when I hear the hoofbeats against the desert
sands. I seize my sword and look outside only to see that I won't need the
weapon. I toss it aside and run to the rider.

"Colin!" he shouts. "You're still here!"

"Where else would I go?" I ask. "I promised I wouldn't leave you. I keep the
promises I make."

He slips off his horse and hugs me tightly. "I'm home," he says. "Nothing
could ever get me to leave again."//

~

And so it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
Even the distance feels so near
All for the love of you . . .

[All lyrics by Loreena McKennitt]

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