I met her during my first time at a club. It was quite the strange experience. I’d never been out dancing before, had never even gotten drunk and didn’t know the first thing about drugs.

You see, I grew up in an extremely religious household; church every Sunday, praying before every meal, all of it.

I didn’t mind these things so much. What I did mind was her constant talk about sins, temptation, the devil and going to hell. I heard it pretty much every day, and at least once a week, she’d promised me I’d be going to hell for... something. I absolutely hated it and it was what drove me to become interested in paganism, and in witches.

It was only natural that when I finally moved on to college, I’d major in religious studies with a focus on paganism.

College was a revelation for me. For the first time, I got away from home, away from mom’s obsession with Christ, and I could figure out who I really was and wanted to be. But also, to try out a few things I’d never dared before.

I loved the college lifestyle. My fellow students were all so different from the people I grew up around. Alcohol, drugs, and alternative lifestyles were big amongst them. Yet as much as I pride myself about trying new things and going wild, I didn’t. While I hated mom’s talk about sin, I was, deep inside, a mousy little thing, shy and reclusive, reluctant to try anything new.

It was my friend Emily who eventually convinced me to tag along when she went to one of her favorite clubs. It was a back alley scene club; the type frequented by the weirder and more alternative parts of the population.

It would be an understatement to say I felt like I didn’t belong there.

After we’d entered, Emily was quick to order us each a beer and, before she promptly vanished to ‘mingle,’ as she called it, and I was left to my own devices.

For the next hour, I just stood at the edge of the dance floor, half-heartedly drinking my beer and watching people. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and alcohol and the loud booming music reverberated painfully inside my head.

After a while, I noticed a guy eying me. He gave me a drunken smile before he awkwardly danced in front of me. I sighed. He’d probably noticed my bored, dejected look, and was hoping for an ‘easy’ win.

I rolled my eyes and tried my best to ignore his advances, hoping he’d give up soon enough.

When that didn’t work, I fled to a different floor. For some reason, however, he kept following me. Regardless of where I went, he soon found me and lingered nearby.

It was Melinda who saved me.

I’d just settled down on a couch in one of the club’s quieter areas, the smoking area, as I should soon find out. After only a minute, the same creepy guys stumbled in as well.

Before he could approach me, however, a woman set down next to me.

She was absolutely gorgeous. For a second, all my memories of and the feelings I’d had for a girl during high school, resurfaced, and my heart skipped a beat. Yet I could tell right away that this woman was so much more than she could’ve ever been.

Her outfit was simplistic, almost too much so, nothing but a tank top and shorts, but it fit her perfectly. She had cropped blond hair with a few darker strands mixed into it. Her most stunning feature, however, were her eyes. They were bright green, and seemed to focus on me and me alone, almost as if she was staring into me.

“You new here? Haven’t seen you around?” she half-whispered at me, giving me a coy little smile.

Instead of answering, I just stared at her. When I realized what I was doing, I quickly looked away, took a big sip of beer, and then focused on the creepy guy again. He was sitting on a couch nearby, pretending to mind his own business, but I noticed his short, side-way glances.

The woman next to me turned in his direction as well.

“Just ignore him. He’ll give up soon enough.”

Just as she said this, the guy suddenly got off and walked away.

“See? It’s just that easy. I’m Melinda, by the way.”

“Oh, my name is, I mean, I’m Claire. Nice to meet you,” I brought out, stumbling over my words.

Melinda giggled. Then she reached into her purse, brought out a pack of cigarettes, lit one and leaned back. After two pulls, she held the cigarette out for me.

I wasn’t a smoker, had never even touched a cigarette, but still took it, almost unconsciously. I started coughing right away.

Laughing, Melinda took it back.

For the next minute, I just sat there, next to her, entranced by her, and watched as she exhaled cloud after cloud of bluish-grey smoke.

Once she’d finished her cigarette, she got up, but handed me another one.

“Just so you don’t forget me. See you later, little Claire.”

With that, she went on her way back to wherever she’d come from.

I was left sitting there, cigarette in hand, staring after her.

For long minutes, I tried to make sense of the encounter and the many conflicting feelings inside of me.

Eventually, a clearly drunk Emily found me again.

“I didn’t know you smoked, Claire,” she said.

“I don’t. Oh, this? Yeah, no it’s... never mind,” I said, shaking my head before I carefully put the cigarette into my purse.

We were at the club for another hour. While Emily was dancing and having fun, my eyes wandered around, looking for Melinda. Yet she seemed to have vanished.

For the next few days, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I don’t know what it was, but there was something special about Melinda. The way she carried herself, her confidence, but also other, smaller things I’d noticed about her. Around her wrist, she’d worn a small, pearly armband, and I’d also noticed the purple healing stone fastened to her necklace. It made me wonder if she might be interested in the same things I was.

I was back at the club a week later. This time, on my own.

For long minutes, I walked from floor to floor, desperately trying to find her, but there was no hint of her.

Frustrated, I went back to the smoking area and found myself an empty seat. There I sat, brooding, and eventually pulled out the cigarette Melinda had handed me a week ago. As my thoughts drifted away, I absentmindedly rolled it between my fingers, playing with it.

“Need a light?”

In surprise, I dropped the cigarette. When I turned around, I saw Melinda. Somehow, without even noticing, she’d found me and sat down right next to me.

“So, you’re smoking now?”

“No. Well, I guess?” I said, giving her a little shrug.

Then I picked up the cigarette and held it out for her to light. Of course, I coughed again, but somehow, with each pull, and with Melinda next to me, it seemed to get easier.

That night, we started talking, and that night I got to know her.

As I’d thought, Melinda shared many of my interests. Yet the way she went about them was much more intense. She was much more intense.

While I read books on pagan rituals, collected healing stones, and made my own witchy jewelry and accessories, she’d gone much deeper.

She talked about rituals, too, but the ones she herself had performed. She’d go on about real magic, real witches, different planes and places, places, she said, where magic originated from.

Talking to her was nothing short of enthralling, almost intoxicating. Eventually, as night turned to early morning, we exchanged phone numbers, and, a moment later, Melinda was gone again.

We ended up texting all throughout the week. Melinda told me more about the things she’d done, recommended me books, but also shared a few niche blogs on astral projection I might be interested in.

Yet there was one thing she was steadfast about. If I truly wanted to learn, to become enlightened, as she put it, I’d have to do the real thing.

When I asked her if she was talking about some sort of ritual, all I got was a little emoticon. Then, a few seconds later, she added a simple ‘You’ll find out on Saturday. Same place, same time?’

That’s just how she was, always a tad bit mysterious, but I’d have to lie if I didn’t like it. Before I knew it, I’d already sent her a yes.

When Saturday evening arrived, I headed for the club right away. This time, I didn’t waste any time looking for her, but headed straight for the smoking area.

Melinda was already there, waiting for me. She sat on a couch in the back, staring at me with her bright, green eyes and bidding me to join her.

“So, the real deal? What is it? You want us to do some sort of weird dance ritual?” I asked, laughing a little.

“Oh no, little Claire, it’s something much, much better.”

With that, her hand vanished inside her purse, and then, careful to hide it from the other people in the smoking area, produced a small Ziploc bag containing a strangely growing powder.

For a moment, I just stared at it, not understanding. When my brain functioned again, I realized what she was holding.

“Wait. No way, Melinda, that stuff... I can’t.”

“There’s a first for everything,” Melinda said in a sing-song voice, giving me another one of her seductive smiles.

For the first time, her smile didn’t work on me.

“No, really. This,” I said, holding up the cigarette I was smoking, “sure, but not that.”

I grew angry, furious even. Was this the reason she’d talked to me? Was all this a ploy to get me hooked on some sort of weird designer drug?

In my anger, I was about to get up, but felt Melinda’s hand close around my wrist.

“Oh, but don’t you want to learn more? This stuff here, this Oneiria, is the way to go, the way to learn, little Claire.”

I was still angry with her, but then I thought about mom, about my life until now. Wasn’t Melinda right? Wasn’t I here to experience new things, to learn and to get enlightened? The smallest of smiles came over my face. Yes, I was, and I was here to sin, to do all the things my mom had warned me about, and told me I’d go to hell for.

When Melinda saw that small smile, she pulled me in close and kissed me.

The moment our lips made contact, all the apprehension and all my doubts evaporated. I was obsessed with this woman. When our lips parted, I gave her a nod and said I was ready to try, if only this once.

The moment I took Oneiria, as she’d called it, the world changed.

All the colors around me intensified, as if the world’s saturation had been turned up a few notches. The same was true for my feelings. For the first time, I could truly feel the world around me, could feel every part of my body, and, of course, I could feel Melinda.

Almost in a trance, I let her take my hand and lead me to the dance floor.

My eyes wandered around; the world seemed so, so different. Everything around me was moving faster, then slower again. Motions and people became blurs, washing into each other.

Then I focused on Melinda again. She was in front of me, her arms around me. I could feel the warmth of her emotions radiate from her and wash over me in heavy waves. It felt like I was a part of her and her a part of me.

At one point, we made out right there, on the dance floor. It was the most intense thing I’d ever felt in my entire life.

The longer I danced with Melinda, our hands grasping each other, our lips touching, the more the world changed. I saw things I’d never seen before. People were glowing brightly, their energy wafting through the air, intermingling and mixing into a kaleidoscope of living colors.

And then, for whatever reason, my eyes wandered upwards.

The club’s ceiling was gone. Twirling stars, and mad, sparkling galaxies unlike anything I’d ever seen before replaced it.

It was nothing short of magical, and as I moved my hand through the air, the stars above responded to my every motion.

Then my trance-like fascination was interrupted by a moment of clarity. I instantly cringed back from the surreal sight above me, averted my eyes, and tried to feel from the dance floor.

Yet I was held in place. When I stared at Melinda, she, too, had changed. By now, she was nothing but bright light and pure, intense feeling. I felt her holding me in place, surrounding me, engulfing me.

“This is what you were looking for all along, little Claire, this is it,” her sing-song voice reverberated inside my mind.

A second later, I drifted off.

When I awoke, I was in bed. For a moment, I shivered when I remembered what had happened.

Suddenly, I realized I was naked, grew confused when I realized I wasn’t in my dorm room.

Then Melinda entered the room, similarly naked.

“Melinda?” I brought out. “What happened? What did we...?”

Her answer was nothing but a smile, but one that told me more than enough.

Once I’d calmed down, I spoke again.

“What was that last night?”

“Oneiria,” Melinda answered, matter-of-factly. “It allows you to see. Not only what’s out there, but also what you desire, the magic you always dreamed of.”

After that night, it didn’t take long for me to get hooked. I’d told myself repeatedly to not give into it, that I’d just do it once more. Yet Oneiria had this strange fascination to it.

It differed from any other drug I’d heard about. You weren’t just getting high, it allowed you to visit certain different places. Every time the two of us indulged in Oneiria, I saw the same mad, sparkling galaxies, but also a world in which magic was real.

Eventually, I learned I wasn’t the only person Melinda had introduced Oneiria to. When I first heard this, I felt betrayed, and a pang of jealousy shot through my entire body. I almost left, never to talk to her again. Yet Melinda assured me I was special. I was the one, the only one she loved. All those others, they were friends, acquaintances, people of mutual interest. I was different.

What can I say? I believed her. And so, a few days later, I joined her during her next meeting with her little witches’ circle, who all indulged in Oneiria.

Every time I did it, however, the drug’s effect became stronger. It was barely noticeable, but noticeable nonetheless. The visions I saw intensified, and each time, I caught more glimpses of this other world. It was a place where not only magic was real, but witches, paganism, and magical creatures as well.

It was a place, I eventually learned, where even I had power, actual power, and could command the magic I so longed for. No longer was I mousy little Claire, but what I’d always wanted to be: a witch, an actual witch.

Yet as much as I loved the place, and as much as I loved Melinda, something about it felt wrong. That place, it felt too different and too far away, too detached.

At the same time, however, whenever I was there, I felt this pull, a pull from somewhere beyond that pulled me in just a tad bit closer.

Eventually, I realized, deep inside, I didn’t really want this. I didn’t want to get any closer. What I wanted was to feel magic, to command it, sure, but not in some otherworldly, drug-infused dreamscape. I’d wanted to do it here, to bring just a bit of magic into my boring secluded life. If I couldn’t even do that, then all of this was meaningless, might as well not have been real.

No, as much as I was pulled in, as much as I wanted more of it, I didn’t want to leave the real world behind, at least not just yet.

About a week ago, things took a turn for the worse.

Once again, our little circle met up, and once again, we readied ourselves for another round of Oneiria-infused scrying. That night, however, we, or rather they, went further than ever before.

While they all indulged in Oneiria, I sat there, holding the tiny Ziploc bag in hand, merely staring at it. I could feel the pull, watched as my fingers unconsciously opened the bag, my brain getting ready to indulge again. Then, I struggled against it. At first it was nothing but a half-hearted attempt, an afterthought, but soon it rose in power. As I did, I felt Melinda’s eyes on me, and somehow, this was enough to break free. The Ziploc bag dropped from my hand and I leaned back, thinking I’d finally broken free.

Yet as I sank back into my seat, I saw the ceiling above me opening up, vanishing, before the mad, sparkling galaxies replaced it. Then, we were all pulled in closer, towards the world of magic we’d visited so many times before.

But I hadn’t taken the drug. So how was this possible? How was I able to see what I’d thought of as nothing but Oneiria-infused hallucinations, tricks of the mind? Did it mean that all of it, all the visions, all the things I’d seen were… real?

Anxious, in confused terror, I turned toward Melinda, only to see she’d changed. What had once been a woman with cropped blond hair and bright green eyes was now a glimmering witch made of nothing but stars, a twisted space nebula.

She seemed to extend, to spread out, growing bigger, wider, an all-encompassing shroud of stars, fire and magic that washed over us.

But then, once she’d filled out the entire room, she opened up, and for the first time, I could see it clearly: the twisted, magical wonderland.

It was right there, right in front of me, so close, I could almost touch it. I saw energy wafting through the air like colorful clouds, saw magical creatures and fantastical beings.

Yet the place was all wrong. Its physics made no sense. It was upside down, but was not; it was circular but spread out and even. I saw mountains growing from the skies, mad galaxies that seemed far away but right there. Behind it all, I saw beings as massive as stars, unfathomable things reaching out, ever reaching out, further and further.

Instantly, I drew back, averted my eyes, and started screaming in sheer and utter terror. These screams were drowned out by those of the other members of the group. Theirs, however, were screams of joy. Soon, a cacophony of barely human jubilation echoed through the room, through the entire building, as they all threw themselves into the dreamscape ahead.

For a moment, I could see them running into one another, becoming one being before they were torn apart again.

Still screaming, I scrambled away and retreated to the farthest corner of the room. There I sat, shivering and shaking, my eyes closed and my hands pressed over my ears.

I stayed like this for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, I felt a hand touching my face. I jerked up, cringed away, but saw it was Melinda.

“It’s okay now, little Claire. It’s over.”

“W-what the hell was that?”

“I guess it wasn’t for you. Maybe not yet, maybe never.”

“What?”

“I showed it to you, little Claire, a place where you can be yourself, where you’ll find what you’ve been looking for.

“But that place... I don’t want it. Not like that.”

When I said this, Melinda’s eyes turned sad and a moment later, she got up.

“That’s it then,” she eventually said, her voice as sad as her eyes.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I was only here to help, little Claire, to show, not to force.”

“No, but I love you. I love us, and I want to-“

“Do you really? Or were you just looking for someone to enlighten you, to show you just how much more there’s out there?”

“No! I mean... I don’t know. I don’t freaking know, all right?!”

At that moment, Melinda came closer. Once more, she put her lips on mine. I savored that kiss more than any other we’d shared before.

When our lips parted, I could see the same mad, sparkling galaxies in her eyes and could feel her body surrounding me. It felt as if she was more magic than a real person.

My eyes grew wide, and I went forward to touch, to indulge in her, but Melinda stopped me.

“See? You didn’t want me, didn’t want Melinda, but those feelings, the magic of that other place.”

“But... it’s gone now, isn’t it?”

“You can find it again, the Oneiria, the magic, all of it.”

“What about you?”

“Me? What do you think I am?”

“You are...”

As much as I tried, I couldn’t answer her question.

“Nothing but a dream,” Melinda whispered into my ear.

A moment later, she was gone, leaving me alone in the empty room.

It’s been days since then. Even now, I can’t make sense of what happened. Neither can I make sense of who, or what, Melinda truly was.

Yet at night, I often dream of that place, a place where magic is real. It’s a place where I am truly a witch. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of her, of a woman with cropped blond hair, and bright green eyes who’s boding me forward to join her.

Whenever I awake from those dreams, I’m filled with the utmost fear, but a fear that’s different from that of any other nightmares.

For as much as I oppose it, as much as I don’t want to go, I long for it with every fiber of my being.

I know that eventually, I will go back to those back alley scene clubs, those frequented by the weirder, more alternative parts of the population.

And one day, regardless if I want to or not, I know I will indulge in it again, indulge in Oneiria.

YT

WS