The Boy With Familiar Eyes

Nova was a gentle creative soul. Nova led with her heart and her imagination.

She had always felt things deeply, even before she knew how to name them. Her inner world

was vast and alive, filled with color, feeling, memory, and quiet knowing. She trusted that

inner world more than anything outside of herself. It was where she felt most at home.

One moonlit night, Nova set out into the cosmos.

She didn’t have a map.

She didn’t have a destination.

She didn’t even have a question she needed answered.

She simply felt the pull to wander.

So she listened.

She allowed her inner knowing to guide her, trusting it the way one trusts their own breath.

She moved gently, instinctively, letting herself drift through space without resistance. She

wasn’t searching for anything specific, yet she felt certain she would find exactly what she

needed.

Nova knew she was not lost, even though she had no destination.

She took steps forward, though she felt deeply contained within her own headspace—locked

inside her inner universe. It wasn’t a lonely place. It was full. Full of images, stories, feelings,

fragments of dreams she couldn’t remember when she woke, and memories that didn’t seem

to belong to any single moment in time.

She was so immersed in her imagination, her inner glow, her memories, and the vastness of

her own beautiful mind that she barely noticed the space she was moving through. The stars

passed quietly beside her. The planets rotated in patient silence. Time itself seemed to soften,

stretching and dissolving as she moved.

Space and time felt irrelevant.

Until she looked up.

At first, she almost didn’t notice the boy in front of her.

He appeared so suddenly, yet so naturally, that it took her a moment to realize he hadn’t

always been there. He was just a random stranger—or at least, that’s what her mind tried to

tell her.

The boy was sitting on a rock, his posture relaxed, his attention fully absorbed in what he was

doing. He held a sketchbook in his hands, bent slightly forward, drawing with quiet focus.

At first, Nova didn’t notice what he was working on.

But then she looked closer.

It was a drawing of an eye.

Not just any eye—but a breathtaking one. It was incredibly detailed, precise in a way that felt

almost reverent. Every line was intentional. Every shadow held depth. The graphite

shimmered faintly, as if it were made of gold. The eye sparkled, illuminated with something

ancient—something esoteric. It carried the weight of awareness, of seeing beyond what was

visible.When the boy’s eyes met Nova’s, she felt it immediately.

The sensation moved through her all at once.

It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

Strong—yet gentle.

Powerful—yet spacious enough for her to breathe.

Her chest felt warm. Her glow softened, then intensified. She felt steady and unsteady at the

same time, as if something inside her had shifted into alignment without warning.

Though there was very little space between them, and she could clearly see his eyes, it felt as

if entire galaxies existed within that distance. Galaxies she had already traveled with him.

Galaxies she could feel in her body, in her memory, in places she couldn’t logically explain.

It was the most curious and comfortable feeling Nova had ever known.

There was no fear in it.

No urgency.

Only recognition.

It was an unmistakable energetic knowing—as if something not tangible in the physical realm

had awakened between them, quietly drawing them closer.

Nova was caught off guard by the intensity of it, yet at the same time she felt the deepest

sense of déjà vu. The feeling was so familiar it almost hurt. As if she had been waiting for this

exact moment her entire life without realizing she was waiting at all.

Then she felt it.

A soft tug.

Not on her hands.

Not in her mind.

But somewhere deep behind her glow.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, yet undeniable. Nova felt as though a delicate thread had

suddenly formed between her heart and his. It tightened just enough for her to notice—just

enough to make her breath catch.

She could tell he felt it too.

She saw it in the way his eyes widened slightly, the way his expression shifted as though he

had just remembered something important but couldn’t yet find the words for it.

“Hi,” he whispered.

The sound of his voice seemed to echo softly inside her, not in her ears, but somewhere

deeper.

Nova’s glow intensified.

“Hi…”

For one heartbeat—one suspended moment in time and space—they simply looked at each

other. Not with their eyes, but with something far deeper.

With an energetic knowing.It felt as though something long dormant had awakened within their very souls. Something

they hadn’t consciously known until now, yet had carried with them since birth. Something

ancient stirred, stretching itself awake after a long rest.

The invisible cord shimmered faintly between them. It wasn’t made of rope or string, but of

warmth and light—like a shared memory remembering itself.

“Have we met before?” Nova asked softly.

The question slipped out naturally, without thought.

The boy smiled, the kind of smile that comes from remembering a dream just before waking.

“I think maybe you did,” he said. “Once. Somewhere far away. Maybe even in another

galaxy…”

They didn’t need to explain more.

They sat down beside each other, close enough to feel the quiet pull between their hearts.

The energetic cord rested softly between them, glowing only enough for them to feel—not

see.

Together, they opened a fresh page in the sketchbook.

They began to draw.

Eyes.

Spirals.

Galaxies.

Their hands moved instinctively, as if guided by the same inner rhythm. Lines formed without

effort. Shapes appeared as though they had always existed, simply waiting to be revealed.

And when they both drew the glowing circle of the third eye at the exact same moment, the

invisible thread brightened briefly—like it was responding.

Yes.

Yes.

That is it.

Nova felt a deep calm settle within her.

Sometimes we meet someone, and something inside us remembers.

Not their face.

Not their voice.

But their energy—the familiar pull of two frequencies that have touched before.

The resonance.

Some connections don’t begin in this lifetime.

They simply return.

©️Ellen Tjaden 2025 All Rights Reserved