Dream

When a dream suddenly doesn't feel so dreamlike, what will you do?

I dream that I am walking toward a busy intersection.

LA traffic is heavy--it is rush hour.

Cars whizz by and irritable horns are sounded as the drivers’ tempers rise.

And I am walking home.

I know this is a dream, so no harm can come to me.

The intersection is big; it’s one of those that takes a good minute to walk across. I stand by the signal and shove the button repeatedly, impatient for the light to change. Even when I know I’ve pressed it, I still get paranoid that I haven't, so I have to press it again. And again, and again.

As I stand there idly hammering away at the button, a person walks up behind me. I can feel their glare bear through the back of my head, their annoyance apparent in the air. But still my arm pumps away at it.

Still we cannot cross, as the other light just turned green.

I sigh, growing more impatient.

Suddenly, I remember this is a dream, and a sudden impulse to try something risky overcomes me.

So what better way to satisfy it then to ty dying?

Before I know it, I’m stepping off the curb, my mind blank.

The person behind me shouts.

Car horns blare.

The world slows as one car, unable to to stop, rams head on, sixty miles, into me.

I feel my feet leave the ground, and I amariborne, like a doll tossed by a merciless toddler. I also feel a great deal of pain wrack my whole body and I see white. White,, hot flashes that is probably coming from the pain.

I hear shouts and horns and so many other things, but I know this is a dream, and I will soon wake to the bright glare of sunlight and and sound of the morning rush hour outside my bedroom window.

I’m vaguely aware of hitting the asphalt hard, which knocks the wind out of me and even more pain. My vision swims as people gather around me. Not too longer after, an ambulance arrives, and a medic does a check up. He shouts something to his comrade which merely sounds muffled in my ears. They both shake their heads.

The second medic crouches, looking straight at me.

Talking to me, I realize eventually.

“... you hear me? What were you thinking? Do you understand what you just did?”

“It’s a dream,” I say, managing a half-grin. It’s rather entertaining to watch these people be so serious. It’s not even real. I cough, blood spewing out onto the street.

“No it is not. This is completely real. Have you been taking any medication?” the medic asks again.

“No meds. And this all in my head. It’s a dream.”

“On the stretcher and to the hospital. She’s got a mental problem,” he tells the others.

It occurs to me as the medics transfer me that this dream is a particularly long one, and rather vivid.

“It’s all a dream,” I tell one of the medics, once I’m inside the ambulance.

“No, this is all real. You must be having some sort of misunderstanding.”

I sigh mentally, since I can’t really physically. I try to pull myself out of my dream, which is something I never failed at. But I can’t seem to.

It is then that it occurs to me that maybe this is not a dream.

That I had spaced out, and ended up thinking it was a dream.

That in fact, I will die.

And my common sense says that this is reality and I will die.

So I let go.

Reviews

[matrixmark]

You have penned another great piece. I felt the guys frustration while he pressed the button a the crossroads - I think weve all been there once or twice. I like the brevity of you descriptions when the guy was chucked up into the air. Sometimes, short and packed with a punch works much better than longer descriptions; and in this case it worked a treat. But then what kept me guessing right up to the end was - was it a dream. Unfortunately not BUT it I have to say, the way in which it was wrote sure felt like it.

Really enjoyable piece.

Mark.