Casting Shadows

From Rebecca's Dream Journal

 I know what people think about dreams. They are an illusion, fragments of memory that come crawling to the surface of the mind. They linger in some mysterious space which we go to when our hearts are broken or when we miss someone. They have the power to lie.

Dreams used to make me flutter, like butterflies brushing their wings against my skin. Nightmares made me cringe, causing me to wake up with a black hole below my belly button. Never in a million years did I think a dream would come true; or worse, a nightmare.

I have had a recurring dream since I turned eighteen. I still somehow suffer its endless invasion. I lie awake at night, staring at the illuminated ceiling made of glow-in-the dark stars, and fight what seems like endless battle with sleep. Sooner or later, my body gives in—maybe because of exhaustion, or maybe because I wish for this dream to finally end. Nevertheless, the fear haunts me even when the stars above my bed begin to fade.

In my dream, I followed a winding road into a dark forest. The bickering of animals, hooting of owls, and squeaks of mice all merge inside my head into a hum. The forest looks like a ghost forest from one of my childhood books. But the scariest part about this forest isn't the shadow-people that peer at me from the trees. It's the sinister forbidden landscape that unfolds in front of my slowly accelerating vehicle.

The smell of rot hits my nostrils like a wave. Along the road, I find a line of streetlamps, guiding my way in the dark. But what they illuminate is something one can see only in a nightmare.

An overturned ambulance lies on its side in a pool of glass. Emergency lights circle the pines, flickering. There has been an accident. An ambulance ran into a tree that had fallen onto the road when the storm started, and now, the sound of its horn surrounds the accident site with despair. Just a couple feet from the ambulance, I see a motorcycle. It lies on the yellow center line, its frame bent and broken.

Each time I've seen this dream; I think that no one is alive on this God forsaken road.

As soon as I step out of the car, rain rushes into me. It's cold, and the wind slithers into my bones like a snake. Even though my legs don't want to move, I head toward the crash. Glass crunches under my feet as I pull the medical equipment aside to access the ambulance rear. It's empty. Something lies crushed on the road. I want to examine it closer, but a groan pierces my ears. It's almost indistinguishable at first but it grows louder. Searching for it in the dark, I see a bloodied jacket by the side of the road, and I run toward it.

A person's lying on the grass. I'm afraid to look at him, but I have no choice. With my heart hammering against my rib cage, I grab his jacket and turn him over. But before I see his face, I awaken, with rain still pelting against the roof of my bedroom.