Reality
By:Gen1900
My dreams were always weird but this one I had that night . . . was very different.
My Mother was driving down one of the back road streets in the country. The moon was high in the sky, shedding its white rays upon the heads of the great pines. A crisp breeze whistled through the slit of the open passenger window.
She was singing to herself, a melody which proved unfamiliar to me. Her head was jamming slightly to the beat that played in her head.
“You only live once, ” she kept repeating over and over.
Then out of nowhere a semi appeared right in front of her car. It beeped to warn her to move to the side yet, she did nothing. Her eyes were fixated on the clock which was below her tiny dancing solar flower.
Before it crushed her vehicle to mere balls of shrapnel, she whispered, “You only live once.”
That was how it ended, the same each and every time. It didn’t make sense to me. How could a semi appear on a narrow, country road? It was too big. The conclusion in my mind was this: If you put that much thought into your dreams . . . you have no life.
I woke up with my heart pounding in my throat. The fan above my head squeaked as it went around and around continuously.
“Just go back to sleep, I told myself, ” you’re Mom is still asleep and you should be too.”
As I drifted off again, blue and red lights flashed through my flimsy blue curtains. They never kept in the cold, but they proved useful in the heat of summertime.
Someone knocked on the front door of the house.
I groaned and slowly got up to investigate. The hard wood floor felt like ice against my bare feet.
Wasn’t Mom going to get that?
I stumbled to the door and creaked it open.
Two officers stood on the doorstep with their hats hiding part of their face.
Why couldn’t they look me in the eye?
“Miss?” one said bringing out a note pad and pen from his left pocket of his uniform. He still didn’t meet my confused face.
“Yeah?”
“Are you Mrs. Allen’s daughter?”
I nodded not knowing where this was leading to.
“I’m sorry to report but your Mom died at exactly two a.m. this morning.”
I just stood there in my robe, shivering from the wintry air coming from outside. My brain couldn’t seem to process the news the officer gave.
After awhile of being motionless I managed to stammer, “How . . . did she die?”
One of them replied, “She was driving a country road, wasted from alcohol. She crashed into a tree that was off into the ditch.”
Why would she do such a thing?!
“Has she always been intoxicated?” the second officer asked.
“N. . . o,” I answered with tears pooling in the corner of my eyes.
Out of the blue . . . a memory from yesterday popped into my head.
My Mother and I were sitting at the table eating a microwave dinner. She was picking at it and I asked her what was wrong.
She mumbled, “I lost my-” she bit her tongue and stopped talking.
Back to reality, I shouted in disbelief, “She lost her job . . . maybe that was why!”
My dream was a warning! And the semi made perfect sense! On the truck’s license plate read; “Alcohol.” It was telling me something that was too late to save and put right.
Too . . . late
Drama
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