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Dreams of the past

short stand alone fic... all  mine, don't steal

We all have past lives, but most of us don’t remember them.  I spent most of my life learning Magic, and one of the things I have spent much of my time on has been learning of my past lives.  It’s about the only really useful thing I’ve done with my Magic.  Well I think it’s useful, my wife thinks that my ability to get people to trust me is much more useful.  I guess she has a point; after all I’m a salesman.  I’m very good at it, and now it takes almost no Magic at all.  Anyway I digress, it took me years to draw the knowledge of all my past lives to me.  I found that many of the people in my life I am living now were also in my past lives.  All but the one I found to be the most important.  I know that through out many of my lives I had a companion; a woman I love, or I should say have loved, more than anything. 


This lifetime I meet her after twelve years of marriage.  I come face to face with her at a trade show.  I come around the corner to see her just standing there in the booth next to mine.  That weekend goes by in a blur.  I’ve been told that I spent the three days looking at her in such a way that she thought I was frightened of her.  Maybe I was afraid; after all I have a nice life, a wife I love very much, children, the whole nine yards.  And there she was standing there large as life, how could I not be afraid?


I tried not to think of her when I was home but it was hard not to.  Sometimes I would see the curve of her neck at the most inappropriate time.  But as the time passed I realized she had no memory of me.  Sometimes I would send her dreams that showed her our lives together, but then I would see her and she still wouldn’t remember me.  I found it almost impossible, working so close to her and not being able to touch her.  The desire to see her look up and just know me is overwhelming.  I may not want to lose what I have in this life, but I want her to know of our past.  I just want to hold her hands in mine, and dance like we used to all those years ago.   Just a taste of what we had before.  Just to have her see me the way I see her.  It’s not too much to ask, after all I only see her a few times a year. 


So I begin my research.  I need to find out how to make her remember me.  I turn to the literature.  I always turn to the literature, it’s easy and I can read in my spare time.  I can even do it on airplanes between cities.   My wife notices, but I have so many things that I spend time researching that she is not worried.  She’s not a magic user. Come to that she’s a very young soul.  I don’t want to lie in bed next to my trusting wife with the image of this other woman, the one who I have spent so many lifetimes with, dancing in my head.  I’m not that way.  I love my wife more than anything, and I know if I can just have that moment with my love of so many lives, that I can start moving forward again with my love of this life.  The books tell me nothing; of course, we aren’t supposed to do things like this.  To force our will on others is the deadliest of sins, but I am willing to risk my soul to see her smile at me the way she used to. 


After months of research I turn to stories.  Stories are all I have left.  It is a completely desperate move, but sometimes the things that we are not supposed to believe, the things we are not supposed to know, stay behind in the stories we tell our children.  If there is anything most of the stories agree on it is the kiss.   The first kiss of a true love has any number of powers; opening the eyes of the dead, changing the frog to a prince, among

other things.  It’s a long shot but as I said, I am desperate.  If it works I will be rewarded with that smile, the one I’ve loved life after life, if I fail I just look silly. 


Once I decide on a course of action all I have to do is come up with the courage to go through with it.  When I see her face at the next show I realize there is a risk I hadn’t thought of before.  She could hate me.  She could turn her face from me forever.  It would be like living without the sun.


I spend the three days of the show trying to work up the courage to kiss her.  After three days of not finding the courage I look for it in a bottle.  It’s not a place I usually look for courage but that’s where I find it.  I’m leaning against her car, tipsy but not drunk, when she wraps her arms around me in our traditional goodbye, when she leans in to kiss my cheek I turn so our lips meet.  It’s just for a split second, but I do feel the softness of her lips against mine.  She steps back and for a moment I think she may slap me, but then I see the green glow suffusing her eyes.  It’s the glow of magic moving through her, of our times together awaking in her.  At least that’s what I think until she steps back, the glow fading.  She smiles and says goodnight and drives away into the night. 


The next day I fly home.  That night I curl up in the arms of my wife, knowing that I will never see the love of my past smile back at me; not the way I would like.  I sleep soundly knowing that at least I tried, even if I didn’t succeed.  That night I dream.  I see myself, cravat tied high on my neck, as I dance with her.  I see her hands holding mine and I know that she is sending me this dream.  She remembers.  I know that now.  Just as I know that we will have this space to share.  Even if it is just a dream of the past.