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It had been a while since he had this dream. Maybe, three months? Four? Regardless, Ilya hadn’t seen his mother in the hammock in the backyard of Sha- their summer home in a long time.
Ilya and Shane had gotten married nearly a year prior. They were excited to celebrate their one-year anniversary with a trip to the countryside of Tuscany, Italy. It was sure to be a beautiful trip and one that the two of them would hopefully relax on as well. The trip was much needed after yet another tough season. Ilya had a brief injury–a sprained ankle and bruised ribs. The Ottawa Centaurs were on track to be in the finals of the playoffs, which was in part thanks to Shane, who had brought a necessary strong Forward energy to the team, even if he wasn’t always the center or on Ilya’s line. It always amazed Ilya how beautiful Shane looked on the ice, and getting to watch it at every game took his breath away.
He had been extra stressed due to the playoffs and trying to ensure his ankle didn’t get reinjured. On top of some added stress from his brother, Andrei, contacting him again out of nowhere. He only answered once to get him off his shoulders, but it didn’t seem to stop. He kept calling at least once a week, much to Ilya’s annoyance. But hopefully, that would disappear soon enough. For now, he wanted to spend his time with his beloved mother.
As always, Irina Rosanova looked beautiful. Her smile was beautiful and, just like she always did, she grabbed Ilya’s hand. Her skin was soft and comforting. He missed getting to randomly hold it when he was scared.
“Mama,” Ilya spoke, surprised at the difference in the dream. He was speaking in Russian, not English. “Shane’s just inside, but he should be out soon,” he continued in his native tongue.
He looked up and found Shane smiling softly at him, yet another change to the dream. Ilya waved at him, and he knew his expression was filled with shock. That didn’t seem to deter Shane from returning to what he was doing–likely preparing tuna melts for the two (maybe three?) of them. Ilya turned back to his mother, knowing that he’d likely wake up soon, and the chance to see her would come to an end, so he had to soak up as much time with her as he could. He knew she wouldn’t meet Shane. She never did. But maybe…
“Shane will be here soon, Mama. He’s been saying how excited he is to meet you.” Again, he said all this in Russian. It was odd; he hadn’t spoken to her in Russian since he was 12 and she was still alive. She hadn’t responded yet, but his heart swelled with nostalgia and love.
Ilya looked back at Shane, urging him to look back and come out of the house. Why was he always taking so long in these dreams to come outside? When Shane’s eyes met his, the world stopped briefly. He’d never tire of seeing Shane’s beautiful brown eyes gazing back at him. Even in dream form, he was gorgeous. Ilya waved him out, and Shane held up a finger, plating everything together. Yet another small difference to the dream. Then, he moved.
He didn’t want to get his hopes up. The dream would likely end before Irina met Shane, just like always. She squeezed his hand, just as she always had, and Ilya knew their time was up. That was the indicator that the dream would end soon. He sighed, feeling something squeeze in his chest.
“No, Mama, I promise he’s coming out. Just wait a few more minutes! Please, Mama.” Ilya begged.
She didn’t speak, but her smile widened when she looked past Ilya. How was this dream changing again? He followed her gaze and his heart stopped. Cause there, looking as lovely as he always did, was Shane. He was carrying a tray of sandwiches and three glasses. Ilya couldn’t believe his eyes. Was this actually happening? Were the two most important people in his life about to meet?
“Shane?”
“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Irina. Come, let’s sit. Ilya, can you grab the water pitcher?” Shane stopped briefly, kissing Ilya’s cheek, then moved towards the table.
Irina suddenly stood and grinned even wider, more fondly, at Ilya. Ilya didn’t know what to expect; this had never happened before in this dream. He stood back to allow her space to walk past towards Shane, but then something more unimaginable happened. She enveloped Ilya in a hug. He momentarily froze before he completely sank into it. She smelled just like the perfume she used to wear when he was young. Floral scents took over him, and he couldn’t get enough. If he could be held by his mother forever, he’d die happy.
“Mama, I miss you so much. Please forgive me for how I-”
“Ilya, solnyshko, you have nothing to apologize for,” she said in the softest-sounding Russian he’s ever heard. He hadn’t been called that term of endearment in two decades. So that, mixed with his mother’s sweet voice, brought tears to his eyes. She continued as she wiped the tears away, “I am so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You could never do, or be, something I wouldn’t adore. I love you so much, my solnyshko.”
Ilya was about to break down from her words when Anya came running out to her. She wiped the rest of his tears and scooped Anya up into her arms, moving towards Shane. The two of them hugged, Shane following it up by pulling her chair out to allow her to sit, Anya settling into her lap. Shane looked over to him and called out, a slight frown on his face.
“Ilya? Babe?”
Why did he sound so distant and concerned? Ilya couldn’t have been happier.
“Ilya, wake up!”
What did he mean by ‘wake up’? This was actually happening. Right?
“Mama?”
“I love you, my solnysko,” Irina said in English with a gentle Russian accent that made him melt.
“Babe!”
Ilya shot awake, breathing heavily. He felt a warm hand on his neck, rubbing circles into his skin. Where was his mother? She should be here, right? Wait. Where was he? It was dark. Not the bright outdoor afternoon he had just been in. What was going on?
“Ilya, it’s okay. I’m right here,” he heard Shane whisper into his ear. He felt lips kiss his temple. He wanted to push whoever it was away. Where was his mother? She was right here! And she met Shane! They were eating together. Everything came crashing back down on him a moment later, and he remembered where he was.
In bed with Shane. It was the night before the last game of the semi-finals. Everything had been a dream. His mother was still dead. He hesitantly turned his head towards Shane, his eyes watery. They must’ve been filled with something that made Shane’s frown deepen.
“Babe, what happened? You were calling out for your mom.”
Ilya had no reply to that. He turned away, not knowing how to explain himself. He just breathed more, finally allowing himself to sink into Shane’s touch. How could he explain the heartache that came with seeing his mother and Shane finally interact?
“Did you have that dream again?” Ilya nodded. Shane sighed, “I wish I could’ve met her. She really seems like the most wonderful person.”
“She was. She would’ve loved you. She did love you.”
That was all he could breathe out. He sank back down, pulling Shane back into his arms. He kissed his forehead, breathing him in to calm himself down.
Shane seemed to take the message and went along with him. “Was it different this time?” He nodded again, unable to speak. “I hope she visits me one day in a dream.”
Ilya sighed, feeling more tears prick at the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t cry again. Not now. But, oh, how that would be a lovely thought.
He started kissing the back of Shane’s neck to get his mind away from the dream. He needed to calm down. Shane slumped down, kissing Ilya’s wrist, and quickly fell back asleep. Ilya could only hope that the dream changed next time so he could sit down and enjoy a meal together. Maybe something his mother made him from when he was young. Something like her borscht. He always loved that.
He fell back asleep to the sound of Irina humming a lullaby. Just like he used to do when he was young. Only now he had his whole world in his arms.