Coffee With Morpheus

Morpheus lowered his head, staring down at his shoes padding across the pavement.  They were a silent contrast to the symphony of clacking heels, skidding sneakers and splashing boots.

The Northern English rain fell around him, yet never landed on his skin.  Looking up at the morning clouds, it was as though their grey mightiness was reminding him of his inability to experience real touch.  Like the heavens were looking back down at him with cruel indifference.

Fulfil your role Morpheus, fill the mortal’s heads with dreams.  

He looked ahead and spotted the glass exterior and door of a cafe.

A young man with scrubbed, freshly shaven skin approached.   He was wearing a black woollen coat with a green button up shirt.  The short curly hair and midnight eyes betrayed a Mediterranean background.   Slim and striking, he was what some might call a ‘pretty’ boy.   Yet his complexion, revealed a life not often spent in the sun.

The man stopped in front of the door of a cafe.  He paused and looked up at the sky, just as Morpheus had done earlier.  Morpheus watched the pale skin of his throat shifting, as his Adam’s apple bobbed.  His exotic eyes were wide as he looked down, his head moving ever so slightly to the left, tilting to inspect the inhabitants of the cafe behind the glass.  Slowly his hand reached to push the door open.

What to do with you….Morpheus thought as he stalked towards the young man, who he could see was called Adam.

Adam’s father was a swarthy Briton. His mother was a pretty, petite woman of Greek extraction.  She’d gifted her son the large espresso coloured eyes that now scanned the coffee scented crowd.

Ah…a Greek boy.  Morpheus wondered if that was why he was drawn to him.

Adam’s flat torso tensed as he entered the cafe.  Mahogany wood book cases adorned the interior walls, alongside splashes of hunter green wall paper.  The white print on the books was one of the few light colours that interrupted the dim hues.  Most people wore navy blue or black wool, dark business trousers or jeans.

Morpheus stood back against the hunter green wall paper, at the bottom of a dark wood staircase which led up to the toilets.

He watched Adam run a hand over his shorn curly hair and take deep breaths as though his lungs were somehow compromised, the air too hot.

Adam’s heart was beating fast, yet sinking as did not see what he so desperately wanted to see.

Where is she?  Has she already been?  Adam’s mind whirred with the wonder and craving.  She was like his ‘fix’.  A delight to have along with his espresso.

He’d yet to say one word to her.

Because Morpheus, could know in an instant the deepest most intimate secrets.  Adam was obsessed with a woman who frequented this particular cafe.  He checked his watch to see how much time he had before he had to go to work.  He approached the line and ordered a small espresso and a bottle of water.

Morpheus’s brows furrowed low as his own deep set eyes remained on Adam.  The god was visible to no one.

However he did notice one woman lean back in her wooden chair, her eyelids drooped and her companion started and said,

‘Are you alright love?’

The woman did her best to shake herself awake.  ‘I think I just need some air’ .

The couple grabbed their paper to go cups and headed for the door.

Morpheus smirked.   There were those who were so sensitive to him, they would all but crumble to sleep in his presence.  For a moment he thought of one particular woman, who’d been so devoted to him that she almost erased herself.  She’d driven him to distraction with her worship.

Poor Sylvia…all she’d wanted was for a morally upright deity to climb inside her soul, understand her so deeply and put her in the most languid, satisfied states.  

…too bad I’m not a morally upright deity.  

Still watching Adam, pitch black coils of anger started to coil around Morpheus’ phantom heart.

I cannot think of her now.  The god chided himself. 

Morpheus had interfered in Sylvia’s life once.  Then Nyx, the Goddess of Night had become involved.  He had been warned to steer clear of the woman, to keep his interference in the mortal world balanced, and only in dreams.  An old curse slipped from his mouth as he continued to watch his current interest.

Adam licked his lips and took a long drink of water, clutching his small espresso in the other hand.  As he drenched his parched throat, Adam’s gaze remained on the door.  He stood just at the end of the glass case filled with breakfast sandwiches, muffins and cakes.

It chimed open and Adam nearly dropped his espresso.  The relief of the crowd was palpable as cool outside air blasted over any piece of flesh not wrapped up in wool or denim.  The plastic water bottle crunched within Adam’s clutch, and some water splashed on the panelled floor.   Adam swallowed slowly and Morpheus turned his head towards the chime.

A woman with long golden hair was holding the door open for another couple.  She wore a green coat, tied at the waist and a soft cream coloured wool hat.  With her back pressed against the door she held her bag close, as though hugging a child to her belly.  Her friendly smile revealed straight teeth and the sweetest of twinkles in her eyes.

The couple thanked her profusely, the man trying to insist on holding the door.  She giggled and shook her head, ushering them forward with her hands.  ‘You go on really, I need more time to think about what I want..’  The woman’s voice was breathy, some might even wonder if she’d had a cold.  But it was due to a natural huskiness.

Morpheus narrowed his eyes.  Her hand lingered on the door as she made sure to close it quietly, as her fingers splayed and tapped on her tan coloured bag.  Her blue gaze was all over the crowd as she continued to worry the leather.

Then their eyes met.  Adam’s and Violet’s.  She wore black mascara that brought out the vivid blue of her eyes.  Eyes that glittered despite the grim Northern English Day in the bookish, sober coffee shop.

A transfixed, blue gaze that had not moved from Adam’s midnight one.  No one else noticed the still woman stood to the side of the door, and the man frozen holding a half crushed water bottle and tiny espresso cup beside the cake display.  No one apart from Morpheus, invisible and watching intently

The air vibrated with the voices talking about early business meetings, kids’ school activities, extensions on houses, varying problems with employees and superiors, accounts of mundane, disappointing encounters, etc, etc.

But the air between Violet and Adam hummed with a spell of deepest attraction.

Now, slowly Violet moved towards the end of the queue.  To order her coffee and muffin just like every morning.  She placed her bag around her shoulder and hugged her abdomen, swallowing.

Then, outside a sudden rumble of thunder came and the grey sky darkened a shade or two.

You are not to interfere with them, Morpheus.  Only in dreams.   None of your tricks.  

The warning of the gods echoed in his mind.  He knew it would be some time before they stopped watching him.

Ah.  But these two had dreamed of each other before.  The corner of Morpheus’ mouth curved up.

Violet’s stomach squeezed in on itself and she tried to look away, yet Adam was unable to pull his eyes from her.  And Vie could feel his stare, the way he was eating her up, surveying her every move.  And to her embarrassment, she was finding the greatest pleasure in it.

Ah, but the dreams…. 

Violet finally reached the front of the queue and ordered.  Adam finally looked down at his half crushed water bottle. Violet now stood at the end of the coffee bar, waiting for her drinks.  After receiving them, they found themselves at the serviette and sugar station at the same time.  Their arms were parallel to one another as they each reached for the serviettes.

So close, yet not touching, his aftershave and shower gel hit her.  Violet inhaled deeply, too loudly in fact.  When the backs of their hands were barely a centimetre away from one another over the round hole of the bin, Adam quickly dropped his small paper cup in the bin and retracted his arm.  They turned to each other.

Morpheus could now see the back of Adam’s head, his dark curls beginning to shine at the nape of his neck.  Violet’s azure eyes were wide and her chest heaved.  Inside her scrambled mind, the waist of her coat suddenly constricted her abdomen too much.  Her hands sought to loosen it.

Adam coughed and made his way through crowded tables and out the door. Violet stood for a moment, her cheeks turning red.  Her fingers trembled as they reached for her to go coffee.  And as she also waited, her eyes turned downwards now facing the bin, Morpheus heard a sniffle and saw one lonely tear drop splat onto the wooden floor.

Quickly taking a serviette alongside the little brown paper bag of muffin that she grasped, Violet made her exit quickly.

The couple she’d held the door open for bid her farewell, and Violet just managed a wave and a very forced smile as she exited the cafe, holding the tissue over her nose and mouth.

….

For the love of the gods…I am not Eros.  

Bitterness ate at him as he combed the streets that day.  The light hours in the European part of the world passed him in a haze after the frustrated loved up coffee morning.  No one noticed the god wandering the streets of the small Northern English town.   He passed through the heads of the world in a way only immortals understand.  The mind of Morpheus existed in a place where time meant nothing and the thoughts and desires of millions flowed through him, illuminating his natural godly abilities.

He could have a connection to anyone, any god on a whim.  However, he rarely came out of this haze of his sleep and dream inducing duty.  Only when something took his interest, or if…gods forbid…someone took an interest in him. 

Two hapless would be lovers, too wrapped up in their mortal weaknesses should be of no real concern to me.  Not really.  

He looked at the small collected lines of water in between the drenched grey and brown cobbles.   The water trembled slightly and Morpheus once again, looked to the skies.  He saw that Night was descending.

Nyx.  

She appeared as the sky dimmed.  Her inky hair was pinned up, and her ebony wrap dress hugged her waist and the flare of her hips.  She was the very picture of Southern European sophistication in a Grim Northern European setting.  The chill did not touch her, for powerful Nyx would never let it.

‘I can’t think why you choose to spend time up here.  You only torture yourself.’   Nyx paused to inspect her hands.  Then out of habit, she adjusted the top of her black wrap, so her chest was covered.

Shrugging, Nyx looked around and said ‘it’s so grim up here…’ then she stepped forward, her clicking heels echoing on the street.   Her mouth curved up and she spoke.

‘Is it because of her?  Sylvia?  Is that why you stay.  Just to be near?  How very sad.  You stay in a small, nearby town so that you can be close.  For couldn’t go into the city could you?  If only you could have shown love in a normal way…then perhaps you wouldn’t have resorted to such measures.’

Morpheus turned and scanned the tops of the terraced houses.  In the distance the moors were no longer visible.  Nyx had covered everything up here with her shadows.  She continued to taunt him.

‘I don’t see her as much as you think.  And I won’t tell you who she is with.  Only that they seek to discover one another’s true natures.’  Nyx’s pillowy mouth curved up on one side.   Then, she more bared her teeth than smiled.  ‘He is truly lovely.  So pretty.  I love how pretty the men are nowadays. Many of them smell so lovely.’

Morpheus arched a brow, growing bored with her arrogance.  He finally spoke.

‘Are you suddenly so interested in lovemaking, Nyx?  Your main interest is your own ego. You are not Aphrodite.’

The edges of Nyx’s mouth went even.  Her head stilled and shadows forced him to focus on her now opaque eyes.  She could swallow him in obscurity, make him meaningless.

‘No. I am not her. Though I know her well.’  her voice met the gloomy air.  ‘But such things are on your mind.  Are they not? If the daylight is too open and cruel, the silly confinements and traditions, the expectations of daily life interfere with love…then perhaps some shadow and fantasy can bring to life what the mortal world constricts?  Eros and Aphrodite would have our cooperation…the realm of night and dreams.  Would they not? Goodness knows, we don’t want to arouse the interest of Thanatos again.’

And with that, she disappeared.  But not without getting into his head once more.

Your duty…Morpheus.  

Adam and Violet.  

Morpheus made his way to the cafe.  The streets were silent, still wet from the interspacing of drizzle. The metal security shutters were down, but that would not stop him from entering.  Looking upwards, dawn was not too far away.  He entered and stared around the empty room.

The chairs and tables within a couple of hours would be bustling with people, the scent of fresh coffee and baking pastries filling the air.  For now, the only light was some emergency lighting by the stairs that led up to the toilets. The only smell now was that of disinfectant.

Morpheus sat down at one of the tables.  For now, the atmosphere was cold.  He placed his hands forward on the table, understanding how cool and smooth it would feel, yet sensing nothing.  He inhaled and saw Violet and Adam, each in their separate beds, in their separate homes.

Morpheus entered their minds and bloodstreams.  Deep, yet vividly in their subconscious, he brought them here.

He imagined, instead of the metal shutters, moonlight spilled through the exterior glass of the coffee shop.  And in a small table right by the door, right in front of the window, Adam and Violet were sat facing one another.  They each had their arms on the table, palms down, both would be lovers illuminated by the moon.

They did not wear their wintry layers.  Rather, Adam was in the white tee shirt and flannel trousers he currently slept in.  Violet wore a v necked night shirt that reached just above her knees.  The worn fabric clung to her bare, fleshy curves.

Despite the chill in the air, their skin was on fire.  Adam’s midnight coloured eyes locked with Violet’s glowing sapphire ones.  Then their lids flickered as they noticed the oddity of one another’s attire.

The table between them was tiny, yet far too large at the same time.  Adam’s lids flickered as he drank in the sight of the exposed skin above her v-neck peach tee shirt.  She was like a picture of summer heat, with her golden hair and bright eyes.

Now, the mascara did not bring out the sea colour of her gaze, it was the moon that illuminated it, making her mouth glow pink in its light.

Violet was lost in the longing of his stare.  Their limbs slowly slipped past each other, their finger tips edging closer to the opposite end of the table.  Like snakes gliding past one another.  It was then Adam could hear her breath, watched her mouth press together and her eyebrows furrow in frustration.

Adam’s heart hammered in his ears until a buzzing sound filled his head.  They ceased sliding their limbs, gripped the end of the table.  They began to rise from their seats, knowing yet not caring that they were right in front of the window.

Through the buzzing in his head he heard some strangled husky sound escape Violet’s throat.  It was somewhere between a groan and a gasp.

For a second, his head dipped down, his mouth opening in awe of her thinly clad beauty, Adam grunted and imagined he surged forward.  Yet his movements were maddeningly heavy.  Too slow.

The moment before their lips met, they said each others names, amazed how they knew their eyes widened in wonder and joy at the inflamed kiss they would now share.

Then, they both woke up.  In their own beds.  Adam’s name on Violet’s lips.  Violet’s name upon Adams.  Both of them confused, impassioned and vexed.

Adam sat up in bed, looked down and saw he had indeed been wearing his pyjamas in the coffee shop.  He grasped his head in his hands and rocked back and forth.  He pounded his fist down onto the sheets.  Then through gritted teeth he said, ‘Gods…Violet’,  it dawned on him that he knew her name.

As for Violet, she lay still, her hands beside her head, palms upwards.  Flicking her gaze down at her thin, peach bed shirt she swallowed, somehow knowing Adam’s eyes had been both on and beneath it.  The liquescent sensation within her abdomen clashed with her whirring mind.  She winced her eyes against the pining in her heart for a man she now knew was called…

‘Adam…’ she said out loud, opening her eyes and covering her mouth with her hand.

Staring up at the ceiling, they both lamented the cruelty of how their lips didn’t touch, even the flesh of their arms did not meet.

For only so much can happen in a dream.  Morpheus too lamented.  And with that, the Greek God of Dreams exited the cafe, leaving the Adam and Violet to their mutual yearning.  In their separate beds.

Bravo, Morpheus.

The voice of powerful Nyx, evaporated as the sun rose.  Burning on England’s horizon, showing its brazen orange face, warming and melting the iced heather moors that embraced the small town.