My Nightmarish Dream

This was my dream the previous night, and I decided to write it as a narrative-type story. It was quite chilling to me!

There it lay with perfect complexion: the spiff golden stationary sitting on the kitchen table among the other letters"this one more formal. As I sit down, I pick it up and feel the grooves on the envelope, rotating it for observations. Fresh. Classy, first class postage. With my fingers grasping the envelope flap, I lift the bronze sticker up and pull out its contents: a letter and a brochure. I unfold the note and read.

Oh, dear lord.

My left hand over my mouth as I gasp; my eyes feverously read the letter, then reread, then reread. I can feel my heart race, pounding on my rib cage. I could no longer sit down, as I pushed off the chair and dropped the letter. I stood by the kitchen table with the sunlight shining in disbelief, fear, and horror. This can’t be.

Panting. I felt out of breath as if someone had lured all the strength I had to the grave. I slowly sit back down, grabbing the back of the chair as I ease myself to the seat. Wide-eyed and scared, I sit at the kitchen table, motionless and shocked. I’m drafted. I’m really drafted.

I walk to the living room, turn on the television, and fall on the couch. I switch to see the local newscast. It was only days ago that this war was declared, and there was no mention of selective services. I stare at the screen as I listen to updates on the war. There had been another attack on our home land, this time with more causalities. Equipped with guns and grenades, the enemy relentlessly struck the innocent, excluding nobody out of their tyranny. With this attack, the president declared a quick advance on the war"more troops. As a result, to meet the demand of soldiers enlisted in the army, the draft was put in effect.

I turn off the television and turn to my side on the couch. War. This is a war, and I am drafted. Drafted…Me…I am drafted in this war…Good lord, I can’t believe I’m saying that sentence! These words seem so abstract. Caught in disbelief, I didn’t know what to think. The letter said my day to leave was in one month"one month! I am expected to have everything packed, say my goodbyes, and be mentally prepared in one month! I can’t do this! War isn’t for me! How can I do all this in one lousy month! I lay on the sofa, thinking and thinking this over my head. War…I’m going to war…Fight in war…Drafted…

 

The days quickened while I so desperately dreaded each sunset. My departure grew closer and closer as my woes solidified and expanded. Telling my parents wasn’t easy. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them myself, as I was still caught off-guard and wide-eyed. I had them read the letter, as I watched them both stare in disbelief at the letter with tears welling in their eyes. It seemed as if I was mostly in my mother’s arms that day, smothered with hugs and tears for her baby going to war. Be strong, I had to tell myself, be strong.

Within a week, my immediate family settled down. Boxes and boxes of Kleenex were piled up, empty from all the tears shed that week. Still, nothing was the same. Sleeping at night felt like lying on jagged rocks under the hot sun in summer. Eating dinner felt bland and lifeless, like it was black and white. Family time felt like a stall to my inevitable leave. All former livelihoods we had known slipped, as we felt colorless and dull. It seemed as if that letter flicked a switch on our lives, moving from comfort to despair.

Visits with cousins and aunts and uncles came soon after. Every meeting with other family members was solemn and heavy, a feeling similar to a funeral service. It seemed only days ago when I would play with my cousins and laugh, oblivious to the harsh realities of the world. It’s so hard to imagine that naïve child I used to be, now that times have changed and the child has grown up to go to war. Instead of playing with my cousins or enjoying their company, now we all sat at the kitchen table, remorseful and scared.

I remember one visit with my cousins and uncle. We all sat at the kitchen table as my mother prepared tea for everybody. We didn’t talk much, as we stared blankly at the table under the dim glow of the kitchen light. The day was closing as did my stay at home"just a few more days until I leave.

My two cousins decided that we walk through the house; look through the basement as we look back on the memories. We found several decks of cards, many with missing cards. They seemed especially abundant as we searched through old toys and books. With the cards, we decided to play any game we thought of to lift the heavy mood encompassing the house"simple and classic card games, run by luck and chance.

Luck and chance…I hope that is not what my survival will run on…

Being the last cousins to visit preceding my departure, I felt overwhelmed when their visit came to an end. Grabbing their coats and shoes, they bundled up to leave at the front door. Tears suddenly surfaced and teemed as they said their goodbyes. I ran to give them a hug, my eyes watery. “Goodbye! I hope this goodbye will not be my last. I will remember you,” I told them. “Goodbye. I hope to see you again,” one of them replied. With that, they left. The door swung shut as they entered their car and drove away. Goodbye.

Wiping tears away and heading to my bed, I never realized how this could truly be goodbye"the final memory of me before the vast unknown war held for me. This could really be the last goodbye. My mind was racing and my head felt heavy as I walked up the stairs. The tears would not stop flowing as I continually wiped them from my face.

I got to my room and plopped onto my bed. I pull the sheets over me, turn on my side, and turn the lights off. Goodnight.

Author's Note

I don't know if this is any good or not. I just wrote down the dream the morning I woke up from it.

Reviews

[deeps]

This is a really well written write here. Powerful dream there. I liked this I thought it was really well written.

[Joe]

This is really good! All of the senses of a dream come out in it: the dread, the inability to control the situation, and the swept-through feeling, as if everything is happening at once, even though it actually encompasses a long span of time. Good writing, man! Keep it up!