What Dreams May Come

Another Nightmare

After doing my nightly devotions, I set aside my bible, turned off the lights and let my pillow cushion of head. My eyelids lolled and I was asleep in a minute. Shortly after, they fluttered open again and sunlight streamed through my window. I was in Minnesota, in my old bedroom.

I wiped the crust from the corners of my eyes as I sat up.

“What time is it?” I stifled a yawn, looking for the cheap digital alarm clock that normally sat atop my nightstand.

“Daniel!” a voice shouted from the living room.

“Mom?” I stuttered leaping from my bed. Poking my head into the hallway in utter bewilderment. “Mom, is that you?”

“Hurry up Daniel, I have to go!” she said, hurriedly looking through the closet by the front door.
“Mom?”

“What?” she said, glaring at me through her rectangular frames.

“You’re dead,” I said pointedly

“What are you talking about?”

“You died a year ago. Pancreatic cancer? Don’t you remember—”

“I don’t have time for this. Either get dressed and get down here, or I’m leaving without you.”

“Leaving? Where are you—”

“Get dressed!” She said.

“Okay,” I stuttered, darting back in to my room, throwing on a pair of dirty jeans and a white t-shirt I found in a dusty corner. From below, I heard the front door jarred open and then slam with a muffled “thunk,” followed by the soft “whoosh” of the screen door.

“Mom?” I said rushing down the stairs, zipping up my pants. The living room was empty. I checked the kitchen. “Mom,” I said, the panic rising in my voice, “are you still here?” No answer.

I ran to the front door and burst through it, running into the yard. My mom was sitting in the driver’s seat of a car that was peeling out of the driveway.

“Wait,” I bounded down the long cement stairs. “Mom, I’m ready to go! Don’t leave without me!”

The screeching wheels and the revving engine drowned out my cries. She hit the acceleration pedal and gravel flew from the back tires in to my face as she sped down the hill. My sneakers pounded after her, my breath billowing like a smokestack in the chill, autumn air.

Please, wait! Take me with you!” I cried, chasing after her until she was a mere speck at the end of the street, until that too winked out of view down a steep hill.

I was left alone in the middle of the street doubled over; wheezing and gasping for air as a sharp pain stabbed my side.

My heart thudded in my chest as my eyes sprang open. Reaching from my top bunk to the shelf of my closet where my alarm clock was perched, I grabbed it with trembling hands: 3:15 a.m.