|
Aaron Cohen:
Assuming Lux doesn't get too awful handsy, Aaron's intentions in entering the shower hold true. Getting clean. He makes sure to help Lux get clean, particularly between their ass cheeks and down their thighs. For the bear, that's him cleaning up after himself. A tender little note of further aftercare. Once he's scrubbed, sudsed, and freshly conditioned he pops out to towel himself dry. Some after shower spritz is applied, a musky sandalwood scent. Deodorant. Some face cleanser, an astringent-- Jonathan Van Ness would be proud, is the point. There is beard oil involved.
Once freshened up he fetches robes for himself and lets Lux use the facilities to themself while he changes the bedding and tosses the quilt in to tumble dry warm. When Lux comes out again, Aaron asks for their help lighting the hannukiah. He can sing the prayers after all. The requisite candles lit, Aaron said an additional prayer of celebration at sharing the moment with Lux the first time this year and offered up another warm, slightly wet, sandalwood scented kiss.
He has a white noise machine that plays the sound of a gentle thunderstorm. That, in combination with the light discipline in his room and the dryer warm quilt he lays over them both, it actually isn't that hard to get to sleep after all. Lux is the little spoon, and Aaron is a happy bear drooling on his pillow.
The dreams of wizards and lost are not terribly dissimilar. Lux will at least recognized the ordered dream of a mind that knows what dreams may be. Aaron is no oneiromancer, no master of Mind. But he is nonetheless possessed of a soul that's touched God. And that keeps his oneiros a potent thing.
The first thing to recognize is that this dream is a place of concepts, not factual things so much. There are things being and not being here. Things being suggested and counseled against. Here, there is the idea of a temple. It is a temple without the blood sacrament. A temple of Torah and Talmud and Law and Reason and Order and Justice and Truth. A temple bereft of Palestinian blood. Bereft of Jewish blood. Bereft of Christian blood. Of the blood of Greeks and Persians and on one occasion a British Tourist. Bereft of animal blood. For his God does not require blood.
There is light, the concept of light. The idea of light. And therefore, being all the kinds of light, neither too bright nor too dim but all at once brilliant for the everything of it. The light is above and the light speaks and sings and its song is Torah. Its song is living water. Its song is life. And at each singing of the Name and of Elohim the light pulses and knows that it is.
And below shimmering in answer is Aaron. He is the idea of Aaron. He is maccabee of Judah. His beard is dark and full and braided split and wrapped in gold hammered with aramaic spells predating the Temple. He is David and his sling and Judith with her sword. He is the wroth of Israel that smote the walls of Jericho. And he kneels before the temple at peace.
Before him is a sword. It is flame, it guards the west, it is the sunset. Beside him is a shield. It is Torah. It is 100,000,000 hands lighting candles for 5000 years. It is time and tradition.
On his back are wings, slowly pulsing wings of light. They are the wings of a butterfly. They are fourteen wings for an angel. They are covered in eyes. They are a butterfly's wing covered in eyes. They are peacock feather forever dancing enticement. Come in. Come closer. Come into the light. Filterfeeding the universe with its overwhelming compassion for being.
And also it is Aaron, and he is kneeling in prayer, wrapping tefillin about his arm, a box on his forehead, a shawl over his head. And he rocks and he sings. And he, too, is Torah.
It is so peaceful here. So calm. So right and good. It must taste like naivete.
"Lux?" Comes a question from Aaron, but the word is Light and Life and Water and Tree and Torah. It means what it means when he says it to Lux in their presence. It is all of these things. All of these things at once with no contradictions. As there aren't anywhere else here. All the contradictions are harmonious ones, like the slant of a mezzuzah on a door post. A tender balance of considered minds. It is, above all else, safe here.
Lux:
Lux does not get too handsy, Just a little handsy. A playful amount of handsy, because they cannot resist. The pampering practically makes them glow, enjoying the thought put into making sure they're comfortable. And much approving of Aaron's night time routine, breathing in the smell of sandalwood as they lay together. Aaron becomes aware that their breathing is syncing up a few minutes before he drifts off, the steady ebb and flow of their combined breaths creating a strange moment of connection.
Then Lux closes their eyes and steps into Aaron's dreams.
Aaron has seen Lux's mien before, years ago at this point. But they seem like a small candle then, compared to the beacon of light that they are now. Lux's dream form seems weightless, moving with such unearthly grace that they nearly hover and glide through the air. Without being confined by a human body and rules of reality, Lux is light--and also shadow. Even here, they can't completely shed the darkness of their Seeming, but it only helps to emphasis how bright and powerful they have become, the shadow visible only if you squint past their light long enough.
It's strange to see--and feel--how Lux's light bends around the Light of Aaron's dream. They still stand out as Lux, but also not fighting against Aaron's dream either. In fact, there's a strange reaction along the edges of their form, as if Aaron's dream is being shone through a prism, which makes their colors flicker and cascade all around them, fragmented and more saturated, a rainbow of sparkling neon. Literal fireworks popping into existence as light ignites against light, creating magical harmony.
Lux is dressed simply, comfortable pants and an unzipped hoodie, feet bare. Here they do not feel the need to dress in those clashing neons that distract and protect them--here they are just them, at ease and confident. But the dream fabric does nothing to fold back their glow, their light still shining through it.
Aaron feels their presence behind where he's kneeling, hears a faint technical buzz like the sound of a neon sign. But Lux doesn't reply. Their eyes are wide, two glowing orbs, staring out into the dream. Taking it all in with enraptured awe. Tears glimmer in their eyes and spill down their cheeks, but even they look less like tears and more like shimmering mercury. It's not just being overwhelmed--it appears that Lux is hypnotized by the overwhelming light all around.
Aaron Cohen:
Lux's duality is nothing less than accepted here. Another as it must be compromise that is harmonious and good. Especially to him.
He rises on sandaled feet that are also in prayer shoes that are also walking boots that are also training and testing and resolve. The tefilin on his arm is the shield of 5,000 years. It is his love of Lux who is Light and Trust and Right. It is his love, all the way down.
"Why do you weep my love?" It means let me help you. It means you can trust me. It is I know you can't let me in. It is probably his fault.
Lux:
Aaron stepping closer and taking up most of their field of vision helps them to focus on him, though they still look a little dazed. Its a struggle to focus on any one thing, on just him, when everything is demanding their attention. "It's so... bright," they whisper, their voice trembling with a strange electronic quality. "It's not your fault. And it's not bad." They reach out, their fingers at the same time weightless and firm as they squeeze his. "Bright light is... difficult for me to turn away from. I get drawn into it. And this is... you are... everything is light here. Its... just... overwhelming. And beautiful. And perfect." They step in closer, pressing their lips softly to his. "I've never been in a dream like this before..."
Aaron Cohen:
"This is not a dream," not that sort of dream, it is oneiros, it is his mind, it is the part of him that touches a concept Lux's mind can't quite resolve. Eden? Perfect? First? One?
A pulsing flutter of Aaron's wings filter out more of the light, scintillating color over Lux's face like a kaleidoscope or prism that is the wings of a crystal dove alighting on an ark.
"It is where my dreams begin. Where I hide from them." It is moreso with Lux. And the world. And therefore Lux. This too is conflict, and this conflict is as it should. For Lux is Light and Light is Torah.
"I can try to change it," he wants Lux happy, he would change anything, he doesn't want to change at all. "I love you." Want. Need. Cherish. Love, all the way down. I strap you to my arm. Tight. I wear you. I pray you.
Lux:
"No," Lux says without hesitation. "No. Don't change it. It is not a bad thing, to find you so beautiful that I want to feel wrapped up and become one with you. I'm not afraid of being entranced by you. And it is... it's a different feeling, than I often feel around bright lights. This feels... warm. Welcoming. It feels like love. And... and faith?"
They look over the colorful wings admiringly, reaching out to dance fingertips across them. "You look like an angel."
Aaron Cohen:
The wings twitch under the touch, fluttering like a coral beneath an ocean shimmering with light. They pulse back, edges curling forward with the motion, then snap forward again to send a borealis ripple of light across the heavens until all that is are his wings and his wings envelop them. The bands of light above, the reflection in ripping water below, and they are floating weightless over the surface. The two of them. Aaron aloft of wings of light that are the sky and sea.
A whole world of love. Shimmering, radiant love.
"You've seen them, too?" He asks in breathless wonder. "I hear them singing to me."
Lux:
Lux holds on tight around his waist, head tilting back to look up at the bands of light. Their smile grows a little dazed, but dazed by wonder and joy. They remain a chorus of colors, but the warmer tones start to become more prominent, rippling shades of pinks fireworking to life against the radiant bands wrapping around them.
"No," Lux says regrettably, caressing along his side. "But I know they're real. You've told me they are, that you saw them. I... just assumed they looked sort of like this."
Aaron Cohen:
"I'm not sure what you see when you look at me." With the dualities drowned out and for hiding in the light of him, they only see what is. Not what is also or is underneath. But this, too, is well. A shifting in parameters, that's all.
"They were ... overwhelming. They were the word awe. Terribly perfect. Terribly fragile, somehow. I understand them better now. There is a woman who shares my soul with me. She truly is an angel. She calls to them. They answer her." His gaze, still visionary-trance-wide, "I can feel her. Resting. I can feel her power here. We talk sometimes." As Jacob does with Angels prior to wrestling.
His dreaming eyes look down at his arms until they resolve themselves to a concrete thought. His arms in a sweater. Lux in his arms. His wings become the Pine Barrens, the nowhere interstitial of pinecones and dogwood that was where they first showed him who they really are. It's a good place to reach back to. And it twitches out of Aaron's back. This is him, in some way. This idea and moment.
"I'm not very good at not changing it. You keep making me feel and think-- I can't believe you're really here."
Lux:
"You... share a soul with her?" Lux blinks, unsure what to make of that. "This seems like... a good thing for you both?"
Lux didn't mind. They gave no complaint and their smile lingered. The shift in scenery did offer a little sensory relief, at least, and it is a good memory. They take in the familiar trees while leaning into his chest, resting their cheek against his shoulder. "You were the first person I ever pulled back my mask for. I was so nervous. So happy to be... seen. And accepted."
"Change it if you want. Don't hold back. I came here so I could experience you. And this is all of you." Their head tilts to nuzzle in against the soft knit of the sweater. "I'm here. I would like to be here more, if that would be okay. I..."
They hesitate. "I've been spending more time dreaming than I have awake, lately. It's so easy to get lost in dreams. I feel more... me. After a while they feel more like reality than the waking world is. It's... nice to be here... with you. To share it."
Aaron Cohen:
"If coming into my dreams will help bring you back to yourself, to me, to light? Come into my dreams. Make love to me in my dreams where I can't hurt you and I always say yes. Be here more. However you need. Whenever you want. I will make it safer for us. I'll learn how. I promise. I promise promise, too. If that matters."
Lux:
"Hey..." Lux's head lifts, both hands lifting to cup his cheeks, tilting his head so they can look into his eyes. "You don't have to always say yes to me. Even here. Anywhere."
Aaron Cohen:
There's a contradiction he's not balanced yet. This part of himself. The light of his wings retracts back into his shoulders. They hover, somehow perfectly lit over dark water under a dark sky.
"I know." It's how it starts. "What I really wanted to say is where I believe I deserve it." He meets Lux's gaze steadily, in a way consciousness would deny him. Lux did warn him.
Lux:
Lux frowns gently, heart aching for their lover. They float with him even without the wings wrapped around them, flickers of colored light spreading out from them across the dark water like digital fireflies.
“Deserve my love? Or specifically deserve being made love to?”
Aaron Cohen:
"Happiness." Aaron's dream becomes just full of shame. The castigations are mostly in Hebrew and Yiddish. But they might well guess at the shames of holy men.
"I don't want to put this on you. But you always spoke of your loss like you knew it. Like it was your friend, like it answered some part of you. And all I have tried to do my whole life is shut it out since my brother died. I wish I had what you know with your grief. It crushes me. It drives me. It's killing me slowly from the inside "
Lux:
Lux is quiet for a few seconds, staring up at Aaron, glowing eyes full of sorrow and sympathy.
“I understand. But you’re not forcing it upon me. I’m standing here, holding out my hands to you, asking to help carry it. But only what you’re willing to.”
“And please… I’m not… exactly the poster child of dealing with my trauma. I still struggle. I still don’t feel I deserve you. Or any happiness. I still feel like a monster. You can wear your loss like a shroud and still feel consumed by it.”
Aaron Cohen:
It would be dramatically appropriate for the dream to become his trauma. That is not what happens. What happens is they stay hovering in dark and silence, albeit themselves well lit.
"Then why do it to yourself? Why put yourself through all of--" Another thing he doesn't deserve is an answer to this line of questions. There's an ache for it, and it is for Lux's sake he aches.
Lux will become aware of a lit doorway hovering in the air in the distance. That door could suck the comfort out of a kitten. It radiates uncool and not vibes.
Lux:
“Why do what? Love you?” They smile sadly. “I did stay away for far too long. But I decided… that if I let you slip away, then I’m at risk of letting everything slip away. If I can prove to myself I’m worthy of you… then I must be worthy of all the rest, too.”
They look over at the door, then back, their fingers lacing through his to squeeze. “Do you want to walk through it together?” They ask gently.
Aaron Cohen:
"No," he admits, "I'm terrified." Aaron looks over his shoulder at the door to that dream. Dream as Lux likely expected upon arrival. All ... lifelike and Jungian. Lux can tell looking at it hurts.
"But it's the only way I can." He looks aside at Lux and lifts their hand for a kiss. "Terrified."
Lux:
"We don't have to go in," Lux says gently, squeezing his hand. "We can stay here, if that's what you need. We can take that step another night, or never at all. But if you want to face this fear, I'll be there with you. And if it gets too bad, I can change it to something better."
Aaron Cohen:
"Do you know what Master Yoshitsune would say? If I am going to die today, let's get it out of the way early because I have a busy schedule." Aaron is not uplifted by this lesson. It is fatalistic and grim, but the truth underpinning it is hard to argue. Life is lived beyond the fear of death. So he looks back to the doorway with no less fear, but also a grim determination.
"I don't..." He starts over. "Part of me is afraid you will think less of me for what you see. I don't really think that. But I'm worried it will. Just realize I've changed, okay?"
He draws Lux closer, like they're about to dance. Their bodies glide over the water on a sudden pulse of light from his wings.
He pauses at the door, which leads out onto a south Philly street back in the early 90s.
Lux:
Lux glides along with the dance, leaving after images and streaks of light behind, like a long exposure photograph. Beams of light creating patterns and lines through the air. Living neon art, an echo of their path into the dream.
"That is a reasonable fear." Lux frowns. "I would fear the same, if you saw what I did in my time in Arcadia... But I swear to you, Aaron, I will judge you as the man I know and love, not what you did in the past."
They look past him, through the doorway, taking in the street that is both distant and one step away. They take a breath, then step forward, pulling Aaron into the memory with them.
Aaron Cohen:
There's a hiss of sound as the silence broadens to the sounds of shouting and police sirens. There's smoke over parts of the city, and helicopters overhead.
The night tastes like early autumn. The chaos going on here seems of a purpose. Young white faces, mostly, and then mostly Jewish seeming faces holding down a block.
They're chasing rioters out of their block. And sometimes neighbor kids that don't get in line. A fat, angry, behemoth for his age with a massive jew fro has tackled a black kid and is alternating left and right crosses down on him like he's trying to open a coconut. He's got a jean jacket and bon jovi tee on. In the closet, raging.
The ebb and the flow of the fight is trending positively for the hometown team. And when the hands of his current target stop fighting back, he lurches to his feet and throws himself on the back of the next kid in the line, grabbing his hair and lobbing blows down on his exposed ear.
Present Aaron resolves out of the door in his jeans and sweater. His wings fade back away into aspirations. He's just a man here. He doesn't offer exposition, either. Dreams take care of that pretty well on their own, and if he starts doing much of anything he's like to assume an eidolon and change events.
Lux:
Lux blinks at the sudden chaos and violence that plays out around them. It's not really unexpected, and not even that new of a sight. They had been involved in many protests over the years, in Philly and elsewhere. But this... knowing that pain and trauma is coming just makes the fear and dread of the moment even harder.
They keep their hand tight around Aaron's, fingers securely laced. Both to remind themself that this is the real Aaron. Their Aaron. And to remind their lover that Lux is there with him, that he's not facing this alone.
Thankfully, Lux is very good at keeping their emotions hidden. They don't have the benefit of the mask here, but they still watch the scene play out with only a sad frown. No judgement in their eyes as they watch the black kid go still.
Aaron Cohen:
If they'd stop fighting, he'd stop fighting. That's the working theory. But as kid number two goes still he starts to his feet again and adds a kick for good measure.
The other gang is now pulling off, scattering in all directions. But the ones with their heads on right are heading generally west. As Aaron goes to pursue more of the fleeing kids, an older kid in his early 20s, wearing a Temple jacket, comes flying out of literally nowhere-- Aaron never knew where, really --and tackles Aaron to the street.
"Enough! You've done enough!" The older kid is shouting, trying to wrestle an Aaron who is shrieking for him to get off him.
He likewise never knew who fires the rounds. If there were four rounds or six, or somewhere in the middle. What he remembers is wondering why the pavement sparked to his brother's left. And then to his right. And then he slumped off to the ground.
The kids, the sound, the choppers, the sirens. It's all dim and tinny and far away for what feels like forever.
Lux:
Lux flinches at the sound of gunfire. Their mantle flairs with sorrow for both of them, the cold rippling colors of an aurora borealis overpowering the neon flickers of their outline.
"I still love you," Lux says first, just to get that part of Aaron's fears out of the way. They look away from the sparkling pavement to look up at Aaron beside them. "I'm so, so sorry."
Aaron Cohen:
"It's not over, unfortunately. I know these things are... supposed to be lived in. But I thought it best you just see it first." Aaron and player both regret the exposition.
It's all a little hazy after that, anyway. Aaron screams for help that will never come until it always comes in Philly. Too late. His brother says he's cold. His brother says he can't feel his legs anymore. Aaron keeps pleading for someone. Anyone. His bother thinks he's dying. I'm dying, Aaron. And Aaron is screaming no. Pray with me. No. No, I can't. I won't. And then the first words of the death chant and life affirmation, the central pillar of Jewish prayer, "Shema, Yis'rael..." Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai echad.
Listen. Hear. Understand, oh Israel.
When people come out of their houses, and kids come skulking back out? When police pull in, and ambulances? Aaron is covered in his brother's browning blood shrieking, "This is my blood, this is my blood!" And so long as he remained conscious no one lifted a hand in anger. Not even him.
It may be an affectation, a post-facto rationalization, that the faint image of a swirling seraphim hovers overhead with Aaron many things but not afraid. It is light. It is peace. And it, too, is Torah.
"That's how I became who I was when we met. That's how it started, anyway."
Lux:
Lux doesn't want to look back and watch Aaron's brother slowly die. But neither does Aaron, and if Lux can face it, then maybe Aaron can too. So they turn back and watch the awful nightmare play out. Watches the blood turn brown. Crystaline tears streak down their cheeks as the scene is lit with bright greens, blues, pink. It gets very cold. Lux quietly mourns the loss of Aaron's family... and his childhood. It had made Aaron the man he was today, but also took away so much.
"Thank you for showing me this," Lux says in a whisper soft voice.
Aaron Cohen:
They don't really have to go back through the door. The dream resolved in its usual nightmarish course, and nothing was gained for it for Aaron save showing Lux where and how they might begin to help him. What part of that holds the greater share of the grief? Putting him there or not being there for him? It's very, very evident how that pushed him to who he is. And it's also quite evident why for all the good he tries to bring to the world, he'll only let it into his life but so much. Just so far. And certainly nowhere near the secret that even tangentially brought about by his brother's death. That, at least, is the revelation at the end of all of this witnessing and theater. The all of it. The secrets he tells himself. Secrets he can't see over his head right now, literally turning like a halo clear as day to them. Though they're fading with the nearness of the dream's resolution.
"You're welcome, Lux. So." There's a drip of water that Lux somehow knows to be like the interior of a mikveh, persperating into itself. They're back in the darkness, yes. Over the living water. Themselves in light, his wings blunted and stunted and clipped. "So now you know. All of it. And we can move on from here. Together. Because I have a lot to get done today." Somewhere, Yoshitsune nods firmly.
Lux:
Lux steps into him, leaning into his chest, lean arms looping around his waist to hold on. Their mantle is still bright and cold. A numbing sort of cold, rather than bitter and painful.
It all made so much sense. How desperate Aaron was to help Lux too, and if he couldn't... Why wouldn't he run? Why would he risk himself holding another person he loved while he was helpless to stop their pain?
"We'll move on. And we'll go far. To beautiful places." They sigh out a long, weary breath against his shoulder. "I wish I could show you my secrets. Help you understand me too."
Aaron Cohen:
"The only person that my secret could kill is already dead, my love. And the only real pain it can bring me now, it's taken out of me. I am so numb to this pain in my life. You probably can't imagine shutting out your grief, I suppose." Or all too well, perhaps. "But I don't know where to start with it. So. I'm showing you the secret places, where no one more will die, and no one else will get hurt but a person asking someone to help set a bone knowing what that's going to necessitate. Okay? These secrets are..." Aaron holds one hand at knee level and another near his cheek, then lifts it a little higher just to prompt some sort of glimmer of humor from them. "Okay? And not only do I believe that it is something you were able to show me abour your life. It's not that you don't share with me, Lux. It's that you don't want your friends to die." Aaron nods his head confirmingly. Boy, he gets it. "Or you. And I get that, too. I want that, too. So go, on, then. Keep your secrets dot gif. Okay?"
Lux:
Lux shakes their head, leaning back to meet his eyes. "I don't mean... Yes, there are some secrets that I can't tell you. I more mean... showing you glimpses of my past. My memories. Things that made me who I am. Sins that I've committed. Things I have told you about, but you haven't... seen. Things that words can't really describe. I could spin them up here in your mind, but your dreams would see me as an intruder instead of a welcome guest. I don't want this to become... that."
"Though... I suppose showing you glimpses of Arcadia is likely a bad idea, anyway. Even if you're safe from being taken, I wouldn't want the Queen of Mirrors to turn her eye on you." They frown at the thought, their grip on his arm a little tighter.
Aaron Cohen:
"I--" Aaron pauses, uncertain. "I honestly don't know, Lux. If that would be safe for me or not. My Master had me working on me before he'd let me have access to the power to rewrite minds at a whim. You know? I can't honestly argue with the old man, he's really straightened me out in a lot of ways. Just like you have. One of the most positive influences on my life. Up there with you, the Imam. Fox. Did we ever make meeting him happen? I think you'd dig him, he's hilarious. If you know where to look for it."
It's a bit of a dodge from the topic, and so he acknowledges that with a sigh. "I'll. Let me learn how to make it safer. So you're either unable to or at least unlikely to hurt me. And research. And ask questions. Maybe there's a way and we don't know it, and I don't know until I know I don't know, so. Now you know, you know?" Aaron gives his big dopey bear grin at that.
Lux:
"I'll look into it too. I'm not going to put you at risk just so I can trauma dump on you. But also... it would be nice to show you the worlds I've built inside my mind. I've created art there that cannot be made in the waking world. Art that cannot be defined." There's a far away dreamy look to their eyes, wistful. Then their lips curl into a fond smile as Aaron returns to the dopey bear grin. It really does wonders to melt their heart.
"But I can make minor changes," Lux says, before suddenly leaning in for a full kiss, fingers curling at the back of his neck. They float up enough that Aaron is nearly dipped backwards, an arm around his waist holding him from falling backwards into the water--not really that it's necessary. This isn't a dream of falling.
Lux takes the kiss and weaves it into the dream, making it a dream of love and kisses and promises. Lux's lights shift briefly from mainly cool tones to warm, bright pinks and oranges. When the kiss breaks, they are still in that dark place over the water, but it is far less dark and empty. Above and all around are hundreds, thousands of stars. Each one flickering beautifully, each one an echo of a kiss--ones they have already shared, ones they will share in the future, going on for eternity. They are mirrored in the water around them as well, so that they are surrounded on all sides, above and below.
|