Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Mindreader

PART ONE

I'm a young boy in a nice backyard with a soft, green lawn. There are dogs running around, and puppies. There must have been a new litter recently. It's a beautiful day. A man says “Look -” and shoots one of the puppies. It collapses and dies. He says, “Feel how soft the fur is, but now it's all bloody”. I rub the soft fur and my hand comes back red. It seems like the man is trying to teach me something, but I have no idea what it could be. I try to hide my horror because I figure I must be missing the point and I must not be smart enough to figure it out.

PART TWO

I'm driving north up 75 through Dallas late at night, after having some drinks. I'm feeling a little swervy, and I notice a cluster of police cars in front of me when I get up the ramp and merge onto the highway. I try to drive slowly to put some distance between us, but they keep going slower and slower. I feel very aware that I'm swerving a bit, and the swerving is only made worse by my anxiety.

This scene transforms into me walking down the hallway of a hospital, behind a group of nurses in training. They're wandering around aimlessly, stopping and starting in a swarming chaotic mess. I feel the need to get past them, like I'm in a hurry, though I don't know why. I keep trying to, only to get stuck behind a cluster of them that stops for no apparent reason and blocks my way. I still don't know why I need to get past them, but that need keeps feeling increasingly urgent. I break through and make my way through a labyrinth of hallways and finally find a nurse, who I ask “Where the hell is the reception desk?” and she points me in the right direction.

PART THREE

I'm out in the country in a beautiful, tranquil wooded area. There are soft padded benches under the trees. My mom, sister, and grandmom are sitting on one and I'm sitting on another, facing them. There's also another person I can't identify sitting with them. This place feels like some kind of rehab or psych hospital getaway. I become aware that the reason we're there is that there's something wrong with my mom, but I don't know what. She's sitting there with an empty, expressionless look on her face, and my grandmom is saying “Give her a Xanax. She'll feel better.” I say, “She's not anxious. She doesn't need Xanax”.

Suddenly my mom jumps up and gets in the driver side seat of my truck. I'm stricken with panic, and I jump into the passenger seat. She puts the truck in reverse and starts winding around the wooded field, not looking where she's going. She has a crazed look on her face and is mashing on the gas.  She's yanking on the wheel and swerving violently, going backwards but still looking forward. I alternate between trying to keep us from plowing into a tree and trying to figure out what's going on, and I yank up on the parking brake.

My truck suddenly transforms into a school bus, big and creaky, and we're still just flying. I don't know how we haven't hit a tree yet. I finally get the brake pulled hard enough that the bus stops. I reach over and grab for the keys, but my fingers won't cooperate. My mom doesn't really fight me, but it takes me awhile to get the keys out of the ignition. I finally do, but then have even more difficulty getting the keys into my pocket. I keep thinking, “just get the keys in your pocket and then you can go around to get her out and try to find out what the hell is going on”.

Then I wake up.

Holly wakes up too, and I tell her about the third part of my dream, because that's the only part I remember. I'm crying. When I get to the end, I remember the second part, and tell her that part of the story. It's not until the end of the second part that I remember the first part and finish the story in reverse.

The man in the third part who I can't identify, it's not that I don't recognize him. It's that I can't see him. I almost didn't notice he was there. He's a ghost. He's just the silhouette of a man, filled in solid gray. I realize he's the same man from the first part, who shoots the dog. He's my granddad. We were in his backyard on North Park. I should have known. The immaculate lawn was a dead giveaway.