Wander Dust - Book 1

Chapter 11 - Fireflies

I'm lying in bed, restless, waiting for the moment when my new identity will sink in and, more importantly, stay there. My thoughts whirl around the fact that it might be possible to see my mom again. I'm edgy and can't stay still. I roll from one position to another, pulling the sheet with me each time. Finally, I throw the sheet on the floor, then press my face into a pillow.

My mind won't stop racing. Multiple scenarios play over and over. If only I had Mom's bracelet, I could go back and find her now.

By three a.m., the only thing I know for certain is that I've made a promise to myself to save my mom from the car accident that killed her, no matter what.

I have endless questions for which I have no answers. They repeatedly scroll through my mind. Where did wandering originate? How did Mom keep it from Ray? Who are the others on my list of weird? Wanderers too? How does British Stalker Boy play into this? Will I see him again? My heart races at the thought. I hope, in the days to come, I will find answers. All the answers.

Even though I've experienced wandering for myself, I still find the concept difficult to believe. I can't say the instances themselves feel like dreams because they're real-real life, to be exact. They could be just another part of my day. The unreal, dream-like parts are the in-between, morphing between two time periods, dark limbo wrapping around my body and catapulting me through space-that will take some getting used to.

My aimless examining tires me to the point that I can no longer think. Finally, I shut down and succumb to a deep slumber.

•

I find myself in the most glorious dream. It's night, not a cloud in the sky. A zillion stars trail across the far reaches of the heavens. They kiss the edges of each horizon.

The cool, dry landscape of undulating earth sits void of any human structure. Hearing a rustle in the light breeze, I turn. A field, as far as I can see, stretches behind me. When I turn and step forward, my foot presses upon cool sand. Grains sift between my toes. I look to my left and then right. I'm standing on the line between contrasting environments: a field and a desert. I can't help thinking that one is my past and the other my future.

I inhale a large breath. My nostrils flare, pulling in the scent of mint. The breeze swirls around my white cotton dress, billowing it around me. I smooth down the fabric flat with my palms onto my bare legs.

Farther away, an alluring light grows from the inner reaches of a long trench. Its beams dance around and spread far into the sky like the northern lights. They're beautiful, glowing in yellows and greens. Fascinated, I walk on to look closer.

Crickets chirp at my bare feet. Dry plants scrape my ankles. These details remind me that this is a dream because if I were awake, I know that walking barefoot through nature would bother me, but here it doesn't. It feels natural, like something I've done a million times before.

The long trench makes me wonder what could be making the magnificent light display. I have to know, so I walk closer to the edge of the cliff. I stop, remembering I'm afraid of heights. Looking over means that I will have to look over the edge and down into the canyon. Uncomfortable tingles race up my arms.