Ezra: “I have had a dream that continued. It started out as the dream from the last night and then continued past all the things that already happened.”
Me: “That is seriously awesome.”
Ezra: “It was a nightmare.”
But seriously, at this point, he at least understands that he and I are not the norm when it comes to dreaming, recollection and lucidity. (Of course, I say this but I secretly still believe everyone experiences things the same way I do.)
This is a good time to mention that you might find the rest of this creepy. I don’t. But I’m me. You’ve been sort of warned?
Lately, my dreams have been…I don’t even really know how to describe them. They’re always vivid and there’s always several but there’s just been something different. For one thing, they seem to have decided that high concept plot is the way to go. Whereas before, I’d have wonderful dreams that meander and may be more about setting than anything, they’ve lately been much more succinct. I even had one over the summer (which I may have mentioned) that I simply had to write down, in the event that it’s actually a short story, novella or novel. It certainly seemed that way. I wasn’t in this one, before you start to call me Narcy…which I’m not denying but as yet, I don’t write myself into my work. As yet.
One from night before last – because to be honest, last night’s weren’t too exciting by comparison – involved a house at the bowl of a cul-de-sac. Two houses, I guess. The set-up was quite familiar, but then, it was a cul-de-sac and I grew up in Sacramento. I don’t know what was drawing me or anyone else to huddle around the house – think of it as a childhood afternoon where you’re just sort of congregating/playing in front of a neighborhood home – but what became clear was that we needed to run before the man came. I don’t know if he was coming home or was already in the house – and why we hadn’t been concerned before – but I took off into the next door neighbor’s driveway. In the open garage, there were already people hiding and there was a car under a white tarp. I climbed under the car, which almost immediately became something I could lift and maneuver over myself. (And as usually happens, I was suddenly charged with my son’s protection, too – nevermind that he hadn’t been in the dream nor had I been married?)
So I’m trying to make sure the “car”/tarp is on top of us without my legs protruding from the tarp – which was a problem for some reason – and I realize that if the man comes, trying to get myself and Ezra from beneath this thing with time and finesse enough to escape him is going to be a feat. So out we come, hunching over and dashing alongside the partitioning, manicured bush. While we are escaping down the street, I look back to see a guy like Josh (you know how that goes) standing in the bad guy’s driveway. Over his shoulder, I see the bad guy. A moment later, they’re both gone.
Only now that we’ve turned the corner and are rushing up steps to knock on doors, we’re all together. The real Josh and me and Ez. They’re narrow little porches with awnings and it reminds me of something out of Far From Heaven. Finally, a woman answers a door and we come rushing in. Not wanting to tell her the truth as to why we need to hang out in her home, I end up suggesting that we impose elsewhere, to which she drops her suspicions and offers to at least make us something to eat first. Relieved that we won’t be back on the street where the man is inexplicably hunting, I relax into the couch. Josh has perhaps gone to the powder room. At any rate, he’s down the hall when it goes weird.
At her prompting, I introduce myself. Because it’s 1950-something and this is apparently the neighborhood where I grew up, the woman knows my family name (and also, it’s not my family name which is when I realize I’m a fictitious character). Smiling, she motions toward the couch on which I’m sitting and says, easy as you please, that my brother died on that couch. Pieces of him, his hair maybe, is probably still on it somewhere. She motions to the necklace I’m wearing – which is a strange pendant that almost reminds me of an old bottle cap remover – and there’s some connection between it and my brother. Thankfully, Josh has overheard the strangeness and begins looking around the bathroom for something to subdue the woman with, but I’ve already assumed that she couldn’t have harmed my brother on her own so there must be a man who’s likely to return home from work soon. I don’t let these things play out in dreams where my child is present so, instead of waiting to see how we handle the woman and where we go next for shelter in our obviously helter-skelter neighborhood, I opened my eyes (in real life) and called the whole thing off.