Don't Wake Me if I'm Dreaming (4 page)

I considered calling Sam and venting about my dreams turned bloody nightmares, but he’d probably laugh and tell me nightmares are figments of the imagination or some load of crap and to go back to bed. I also didn’t want to risk slipping out mom’s secret, now that I was on a roll with confessing to Aimee, and the impending conversation with the doctor.

I reached up on the top closet shelf and grabbed a shoebox shoved in the collection of other shoeboxes. Under the lid was a stack of holiday cards and letters Sam wrote over the years after I left for college.

Under the assortment of cards and photos lay a folded up handkerchief that mom had embroidered our last name initial onto. I unfolded it, removing a small handgun and box of bullets Sam gifted me. I accepted the present, humoring him, and put it up for safekeeping with the hope of forgetting about and never needing to use it. I stuffed the cards and letters back in the shoebox, grabbed the gun and a handful of bullets, and returned the box to the shelf. I ambled through the room trying to figure out how to remove the clip sneaking a glance at the dresser mirror. I frowned at my reflection that looked like a druggie about to rob a convenience store.              

It didn’t take long to figure out how to load the gun. I had no clue how to hold it, let alone use it, but decided it wasn’t rocket science and figured it was as simple as cocking it and pulling the trigger. I returned to the sofa, and for what it was worth, I was attempting to take the gun into my dream. If my clothes crossed over into my dream, I didn’t see a reason why the gun wouldn’t, too. I had no clue why the dark hair man appeared in the forest, but I hoped not to find out unarmed. I tied my shoelaces in doubled knots and snuggled into a comfortable position holding the gun between my hands and chest. I checked at least a dozen times to see if the safety lock was on.

I wasn’t able to fall asleep as quickly as I hoped. I lay there with my mind consumed in thought of the forest, which faded out into thoughts of Sam as I held the gun. We were pretty close growing up. He was always overly protective, probably because I was four years younger, his only sibling, didn’t have a mom to watch out for me, and dad was always working. And, of course, no matter my age, I was the baby. He wrote telling me stories about his two children, Parker, who’s now seven, and Paisley, five. Sam would go on in the letters about how much they reminded him of us when we were growing up. Parker’s talented and gifted in school; much like his dad, but his features resemble his mom, Erica, with her dark hair and brown eyes. Paisley, polar opposite in appearance, has golden hair and pale green eyes like our mom and Sam. She also carries the same ingenious gene as her dad.

Eventually I felt myself slip away, anticipating my return to the forest.

***

A
fter stepping out from under the spider’s web in the cluster of trees, I glance at my hand. It worked. I’m holding the gun. I securely place it behind my back in my waistband. As I apprehensively pace my step, the inside of my head rolls through different scenarios. What if I just walk past the boy or don’t look at his face? Or what if I just swim around him? I glance at the water remembering the bloody coldness and thought better of the idea. Besides, where else would I go, other than to the boy for answers? As I approach the blond hair boy, it’s almost like I’m compelled to look at him. My eyes are drawn directly to his face. I stop, this time allowing nearly ten feet distance between us and watch transfixed as he stares down at the water. It’s as if there is something in there seizing his attention. I heedfully take a few steps closer, careful not to disrupt him, and stretch my neck, lifting myself on tippy-toes to catch a glimpse in the water. A woman’s body lay just under the shallow surface.

“Oh my God.” I breathe, feeling the sudden urge to vomit. “Stay back! Don’t go near her!” I cover my mouth and hold my ribs in horror. The boy doesn’t respond to the commotion. My mind goes in every direction, his mom, my mom. I can’t bear to look at the motionless body that lies lifeless like a porcelain doll.

I stoop in a low crouch and slowly step toward the boy, stopping a foot shy of him. “Do you know her?” I point without looking at the body.

He lifts his precious face and looks up across the cove.

I can see in the distance the man has returned, standing in the same place as before. I reach back as if needing reassurance the gun’s still there. “Do you know that man you’re pointing to?”

The boy shakes his head no, pointing to me. Still looking across the water, he drops his hand back to his side, returning his gaze back into the water.

“Me?” I ask.

The boy nods his head agreeing.

“I know him?”

He doesn’t respond this time. His undefined gestures leave me curiously stumped. I look up again, but the man is gone. I straighten, looking around, checking behind me, but he has vanished, the same as the boy had in previous dreams. It takes me a moment to accept the fact he’s gone, without a trace.                           

“I won’t hurt you,” I speak softly, slowly reaching for the boy’s hand. Without thinking, I glance at the water, finally recognizing the lifeless body belongs to Aimee. My throat constricts with each panicked breath. I inhale a few short gasps to regain composure and keep from startling the boy. “It’s only a dream.” I close my eyes, taking slow breaths. I refuse to look back into the water, as I open my eyes. “Did that man do this to her?”

The boy looks up at me, but I instantly turn my head, avoiding his gaze. I want answers, not visions. He reaches to touch my hand, but before I can respond, his little hand folds tightly around my fingers. I feel a tug on my body, a gust of wind flows around us as I close my eyes in fear.

I warily open my eyes a few seconds later feeling the gust of wind evaporate. I take in our new surroundings. “What just…where are we?” I look around muddled by the change in scenery. We managed to appear inexplicably at a campground. In front of us, the smolder of dying fire puffs in the air, and blue and yellow tents stand in the distance. I look at the boy’s face realizing I’m sustaining my vision this time, but it seems that we’ve somehow traveled into his memories and are somewhere else within the forest. I head toward the tents but find nothing unordinary within them, just sleep gear, luggage, and clothing. I notice a small stuffed dinosaur. “Is this yours?” I ask, noticing he followed me.

The boy nods with a smiling beam as he reaches for the toy. Camping equipment surrounds the tents. It looks as though a small group hiked down here and set up camp, and then fled, leaving it unattended. I see trails ahead, each leading into different directions. One follows a wide stream under a bridge; another appears to lead up to the road. Briskly, I take the boy’s hand and head up toward the road.

“Sasha.” I hear my name and freeze, looking around I see nothing more than forest. The little boy appears not to have heard it. “Sasha.” The hairs on my arms stand as a shiver rolls through my spine.

“Who’s there?” Releasing the boy’s hand, I reach behind my back, firmly gripping the gun, swinging my hand forward. “I’m armed. I will shoot!” I warn. I feel a hand touch my shoulder and reactively pull the trigger.

***

Following the loud bang, I sat up with my arms extended, holding the gun. A piercing echo booms in my ears. My eyes quickly focused on the brick wall across from me. I looked around and noticed Matt near my shoulder, and jerked a hand to my chest, breath whooshing from my lungs. His hands were raised in surrender, looking as if seeing a ghost.                           

“Have you gone mad?” His voice pitched much higher than normal.

I stared addled for a few seconds. My hand reflexively released the gun, letting it fall to the floor. “Holy shit!”

“Easy now.” Matt lowered his hands and pressed a finger to his ear. “Are you okay?”

“Who’s Kay?” I shouted.

“Are. You. Okay?” His tone matched mine.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry! Yes! I thought the safety was on. I’m so sorry.” I turned to face him. “What are you doing here?” I pressed my ear against my shoulder hoping the ringing would dissipate.

Matt reached for the gun and assessed it for a moment. Removing the clip he checked the chamber. “About that, I think you might have forgotten about our plans for breakfast.” He briefly glanced at me.

“Breakfast?” I tried processing his words.

“Generally the first meal of the day.”

“I know what it is. I just… I can’t think straight right now.”

“Clearly,” he mumbled, setting the gun on the coffee table, glancing at me before setting the clip next to it. “I tried calling you from the diner. Vance was there. He said he hadn’t seen you, so I came here and almost got shot.” His brows furrowed with a mixture of expressions.  

I reached behind my head for my cellphone on the armrest. “Three missed calls, all from you. Is it seriously almost ten?” I leaned over to confirm the time on the oven clock. “I’m sorry.”

“Enough apologizing already. Where the hell did you get a gun?” 

I curled my legs to my chest, embarrassedly dropping my face onto my knees. “Sam,” I mumbled.

“Will you explain what just happened? I mean, logically, if you were scared of an intruder your door would be locked. I’m missing a few pieces to the puzzle.”

I slightly lifted my head and glanced over my knees. His face expressed an equal share of confusion and worry. “I don’t know what to tell you.” I tried to think up a legitimate excuse but failed. “It made me feel safe I guess.”

He sat next to me and placed a hand on my leg. “Talk to me, babe. I can’t help until I understand what’s going on.”

“You’re going to have to let it go. I have nothing to share, and I need to clean up,” I snapped, jumping to my feet, handing him the remote control from the coffee table. “I’ll hurry.” I grabbed the gun and clip, darting toward the bedroom avoiding any further questioning.

“Damn crazy woman,” he mumbled.

During the awkwardly silent drive in his work truck, Matt pulled up to a drive through for sweet tea and sandwiches on the way to Lake Norman. His parents owned a vacation rental on the lake that was in the process of being listed on the market, and he needed to retrieve his fishing boat from the garage. The house was small and lovely, but his parents intended to retire soon and were through dealing with the upkeep.

“I can’t believe we haven’t been here since last summer.” I glanced at the lake, unbuckling my seatbelt. “It doesn’t get much more serene than this.”

“Will you be a help?” He pointed to the garage keypad. “Star seven six, six three hashtag.”

“Hashtag?” I laughed. “Got it.” I hurried to open the garage.

He backed up the truck, got out, and lowered and locked the ball mount and hitch together. “I’m going to miss this place,” he said, connecting the brake cables.

“Twenty-five years of memories, I would too. I still can’t believe they’re selling it.”

“More like twenty. I don’t really have infantile memories.”

“Smart ass!” I slightly laughed.                                          

“My best memory of us was on
that
dock.” He looked at the weathered, wooden dock that stretched over the lake. “That was a hot night in more ways than one.”

“We don’t need to leave just yet, do we? I want to hang out for a bit.”

“Depends. Are you going to tell me what that was all about in the apartment earlier?”

“Could you not bring it up one more time, please?”

“Fine, I’ll bring it up two more times if that’ll get me an answer.”

I scowled at him. Our stubbornness was two halves of the shell.

“You’re lucky. I actually want to show you something.” He held out his hand. I looked to see what he wanted to show me. “You don’t have to hold it.”

I guffawed, feeling idiotic. “I thought you were showing me something.”

Matt reached for my hand, laughing. “It’s not a long walk.”

We followed the shoreline through a clearing to a cluster of old trees and a few short stumps. We were still close to the water, but in a more secluded area behind his parent’s house. I looked around, curiously, wondering what it was he wanted to show me.

“Okay, close your eyes until I say it’s okay to look,” he said.

I grinned at him and did as he asked. “Mathew Ryan Stephens, what are you up to?”

“No peeking.” He took my arm and carefully walked me ten steps I assumed between the trees. “You can look now,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders.

I opened my eyes and looked at the large tree that was a canvas of engraved initials proclaiming one’s love to another. “Aw.” I reached, placing a finger on a heart. “This is so romantic.” I looked at the clusters of carvings. “Is that us, MS and SO?”              

“Do ya like it?” He glanced at me.

“I can’t believe you never showed me this before.”

“I knew I’d eventually get around to it.”

He removed his baseball cap leaving his brown hair a mess, and rested it on my head, then pulled off his sweatshirt and adjusted his T-shirt. He spread the shirt over a stump to form a makeshift seat cover. I hopped up on the stump and made myself comfortable.

“I may never get the chance to do this again.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army pocketknife. I observed as he crossed out the O initial, and carved an S next to it.