Sarah's Ghost

A Story by sabo3

This was a dream I transcribed. I am unsure about it. I have two more to clean up and place with it in a series.

Sarah’s Ghost

Another dream. Just as real as the last one. I can’t shake it. My mind reels. I don’t speak of it to anyone, but I can still see her. Well, I can see all of them but, she dominates my mind.

I try to catch my breath. It isn’t there but I am not choking. This isn’t really a dream. I can feel it. Other clues allude to my location. This is the afterlife or at least a piece of it. Not Hell, not Heaven, but an in-between. I keep telling myself it is just a dream but the rational part of my mind tells me I’m really here. A guest, an intruder, not really one of the dead.

An old farm house. I’m standing in the kitchen. There are holes in the walls. I can smell the mold growing in the cellar beneath. Love, fear- I’m not scared but, I know for a fact this is the skeleton of the house she lived in. I know this just as I know there is an old barn out back and thirty acres of tillable land that leads to the west and is edged in forest. Her father used to hunt there. If I walk into the woods I would find his old hunting blind crumbling and returning to the earth. A creek used to run through the trees but is dried up like everything else around here.

I’m in the living room now. There is a stairway on my left. Light blue wallpaper covers the room. It is sad and dead. This room is huge. I see two other doorways. Dust floats in the air. A little girl walks out of the shadows. She is confident and unafraid of me. She is wearing an old gray jumper. Her white blouse underneath is dingy and she carries an old ragdoll in her hand. Her brown hair is unkempt. She smiles.

My heart melts. I am crying. I kneel down. I know her. I love her. She stands a few feet away from me. Her eyes are kind and cold. “Jessie?” I ask.

“That is not my name. I am not her.” Her response is not unkind but cold, matter of fact. “I am Sarah.”

My shoulders slump a little, “Ah, the girl from the store?”

“Yes.” She smiles and sways back and forth a little. Her eyes tell me she knows secrets and her young form holds wisdom. I stare and my eyes betray the questions I have hidden. She smiles again and says, “Not yet.”

I blink. I am no longer in the farmhouse but in a cavern. Sarah is no longer in front of me and I am not kneeling. I am standing and staring at my mother. She passed several years ago. She smiles but says nothing. I am teary eyed again. A dream or not I can feel her arms around me as we embrace.

The cavern shakes. Children pour out of connecting tunnels. Children of all eras and nationalities. So many children. My mother smiles at me as I survey them all. The ground is shaking again. Dust falls from the ceiling threatening to cave in on us. Instinctively I know the only way to safety is the tunnel on the right. I begin to usher children into this tunnel. I don’t speak but somehow know exactly what I want to instruct them to do.

They are running. I am trying to keep them calm. The quaking is growing worse. The cavern will not be there much longer. My mother is standing in the middle of the chaos. She is smiling at me, watching and waiting. I am overcome with emotion and desire to speak with her. To tell her about her grandkids, my family, and her own kids. I just want to spend time with her and let her know I love her.

Again my mind turns to the children. I gesture to them to hurry. I point to the tunnel and some smile watching my hand and others look worried. Some smile and others have looks of worry but trust. They do not speak. The shaking is getting worse. Chunks of the cavern are falling. I am not afraid. I am sorry. My mom is standing in front of me. Kids are moving into the tunnel. She doesn’t speak but I know what she wants. She wants me to stay and talk with her. To spend time with her. She also knows it is not yet my time. She was always strong in life like that. I lower my head and look at the rocks. I don’t watch. She turns and walks with the children into the tunnel as the cavern is collapses. I can’t help but think about all the kids who don't make it into the tunnel.

I’m back in the living room standing in front of Sarah. “You have to get out of here.” I say to her. “Your home isn’t safe. They will come for you.” I am not sure who they are but I know I am right.

Sarah’s features become stern. Her eyes emanate sadness. She points at me and says, “You can’t save us all.” I want to argue with her. I want to tell her I can, but I know whatever I say is pointless.

I wake up exhausted. I see Sarah’s gray eyes. I see my mother again. Just a dream I tell myself, just a dream.

© 2014 sabo3

Author's Note

What do ya think? I am open to help with grammar errors and everything else.

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Featured Review

lrebel

Firstly, the greatest imagery in the piece is contained in this section of the dream.

"If I walk into the woods I would find his old hunting blind crumbling and returning to the earth. A creek used to run through the trees but is dried up like everything else around here.
I’m in the living room now. There is a stairway on my left. Light blue wallpaper covers the room. It is sad and dead. "

Beautiful work there. You put me right in the setting and the whole beginning works vividly as well.

When you get to the caverns it becomes more of a recounting of a dream without the flourishes you presented in the beginning. So as a dream it is interesting and I love dissecting dreams. Tunnels, caverns, mother, all females you mention encounters with throughout. All the same thing. As far as prose goes it loses steam for me IMHO but the dream is great !

My Ancient Blackbird I posted is a dream I had also. I appreciate your putting this out there. Nicely done.

Oh yea. When Sarah appears? "My heart is melts" seems incorrect ? Thanks for listening. Nicely done again !