Chapter 2: Dreaming Again

Evelyn's recurring dream is beginning to haunt her. It feels so real...

Brian and I went our separate ways. He found his group of of-the-beat-and-track friends and I spotted my three amigos down the hall. When they saw me they waved me over hugging me like it had been three years since we’d seen each other rather than three days.

“Lena!” Valerie held me at an arm’s length, “You’re glowing. Has anything happened between you and Leo since we last saw each other?” She winked at me. I stuck my tongue out as if tasting something bad.

“Oh shut up, Val, she’s just having a good morning,” Imogen, ever my saviour, chided.

At my left shoulder Matt cleared his throat. “I’d personally rather like to save my ears, if you girls don’t mind.”

I turned to Matt and looked up at him. He was an impossible six-foot-three and compared to my size I was a Hobbit. “Have no fear, Matt. Nothing like that happened.” His hair was perfectly gelled as always and his t-shirt and skinny jeans were crisp as ever.

“Good. I was beginning to worry about my sanity if that talk went on any longer.”

“Are we ready?” Valerie whooped.

We turned to her, confused, an eyebrow on each of our heads raised (well, I would have had my eyebrow raised if only I could move them separately).

“For senior year!”

My friends and I cheered and some bystanders turned to look at us but we were way past the point of caring. Together we were unstoppable.

The warning bell rang and our celebration was cut short; Valerie and Matthew waved goodbye and walked off respectively to calculus and French. Imogen and I headed off to Advanced Lit. together. While I was a mistress of the Humanities, Imogen was the lover of all things biological and astronomical.

“Why must we go through this horrid class?”

I rolled my eyes, “Seriously, we go through this every year. There’s no running away from the wonderful world of words. See? Right there: alliteration.”

My best friend looked at me with a devilish half smile, “And there is no running away from the reproductive system, the sun, and the moon.”

“Touché.”

We walked into our class side by side and took a pair of seats in the middle of the room. It was the best vantage point.

Bending over to get her books from her bag, Imogen started saying something. I had no idea what type of words were coming out of her mouth so when her head popped up from out of her bag I pulled a face. She sighed and began again, “I said, there’s a new guy in our year starting class today.” I cocked my head genuinely interested. The faces in our grade had not increased by any number since the first day of freshman year. “Gabe told me on our date yesterday.”

Gabe McLearey was Imogen’s on-again and off-again boyfriend. Personally, I hated the dirt bag, but Imogen had liked Gabe since that day in fifth grade when she’d punched him in the face for stepping on her strawberry Jell-O cup.

“Kind of sucks starting a new school in his senior year.”

Imogen shrugged her shoulders. “He’ll either become best friends with Colin The Hot One or fall straight into the social pit of doom today. After that it’s either smooth sailing or he’d better build a ladder.”

“That, my darling friend, was what us English lovers call a euphemism.” Imogen shot me a look. “You can’t escape the art of language!” I said reaching in my bag for my books, just as the bell rang.

The rest of the day went by unnoticeably. It was the same type of first day I’d had for the past twelve years of my student career. It had the same smells, generally the same people, the same get-to-know-you games, the same nervousness, and the same desire to break into a sprint as soon as the end-of-day bell rang.

Today there were swimming tryouts and this year I was determined to make captain. So instead of sprinting home with Brian I ran to the gymnasium as soon as the last tri-tone sounded on the speaker system.

Of course, I was the first person changed and onto the deck of the pool�"for that is just what I intended. Slowly, my teammates came idly onto the deck in groups and pairs. I drifted over to Matt who swam for the men.

“I hear you’re ashooin’ for captain this year, Miss deLesseps.”

I waved my hand at him, “Pshh, I doubt that.” But I was hopeful.

Matt looked down at me and shot me a winning smile, “I put in a good word for you.” He was the captain of his team last year and was captain again this year by default. It was the one thing that shut up all the protests against Matt being on the swim team when he first came out. He won nearly every game and no one could say otherwise.

I looked at him incredulously, “You did not!”

Matt nodded. I punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For giving me an unfair advantage.”

He made a face, “Do you seriously think I have that much power of Coach Lennon? Seriously?”

I shrugged and smiled up at him, “Yes. Lennon loves you.”

“And now he loves you.”

Sure enough right after tryouts when Matt and I were leaving the gym together Coach caught up with us and told me the good news. I was in. It was looking to be the start of a good year�"besides my acute memory loss.

 

That night I dreamt of fire.

It was well past midnight and I was standing alone in a dry, dead corn field. In front of me was a boy, arms length away. I know I’d seen him in my dreams from past nights; they were always the same, always like this one. His face was blurred, his mouth agape, trying to speak, almost in pain. A woman cackled behind me but I didn’t turn to discover its source, I wasn’t afraid. It was the boy I was interested in, he was the one I had to save.

I thrust myself forwards and wrapped my arms around the boy. He yelled. His body slowly began to glow red, ebbing like waves within him. He shook in my grasp, I squeezed harder, I knew this was what I had to do. I knew I couldn’t let go. His body grew hot to the touch, almost unbearable, but I held fast.

Flames. His body burst into flames, the woman behind me cackled, an evil sound that was hotter than the fire that consumed this boy and I. My flesh burned, his flesh burned; I screamed, he screamed.  I held onto him knowing that it wouldn’t last forever, it couldn’t.

It must have been quite a picture, we two flaming lovers in a highly flammable field of dead crops. We were lovers; we had to be. Why else would I be so diligent towards someone I was not in love with? It was my duty to hold him, to love him, to die with him.

At this point I’d usually wake up, covered in sweat, sheets sticking to my bed, only tonight we kept burning.

I thought it would never end but almost as suddenly as the that thought had come the fire stopped and we were standing in the scorched field, shaking, naked, and bleeding. We were not as badly wounded as I felt we should have been. Through the clearing smoke I kept my arms around him but moved to look at his tear tracked face. The blur was gone; I could make out his features. I saw his blue-green eyes, his full red lips, and his fiery red hair�"none of which had burned off. Our skin was still intact. I felt sure I’d lost the entire organ. It was all there, the boy had it all, though he had black smudges over his freckles. He looked at me and then he laughed throwing his head back in celebration like we’d just passed a test. He was not concerned with our nakedness, he was just happy we’d won.

I woke up before I found out what we’d won. But I knew what his face looked like and for once when I woke up I could breathe. I could smile.

The smile didn’t last long. I was in love with a dream-man. It was a reoccurring nightmare, a reoccurring fear. Tonight I felt different though, like a new door had opened. I couldn’t tell if the door would lead me farther into the dark than I already was or whether it would show me the way out of myself, out of my fears.

Then I looked down at my hands. They were smudged with ash. My heart pumped frantically in my chest as I threw myself out of bed and into the bathroom.

I turned on the tap and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until all the cinders were gone. When I turned to leave I saw Brian at the entrance. He’d been watching me. Slowly he stepped forward and took me in his arms. I hadn’t realized I was shaking before but Brian’s sturdy grasp severely contrasted my stance.

When he released me he looked at me and asked me what had happened.

“My hands,” I said still shaking, “They were covered in ash,” a tear slipped down my cheek, “Actually covered. The dream was real, Brian. It must have been real. It had to have been�"”

Brian took my hands, cutting me off. He looked at them and smiled warmly at me, “There’s nothing there, Eva. It was just a dream, and dreams aren’t real. You probably just imagined it.”

No. I wanted to tell him. No I didn't. It was real. But I felt drowsy and I felt myself tip forward.

Brian caught me and chuckled as he helped me back to bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was dead to the world.

Author's Note

Tell me, tell me, what do you think?