On The Run

Part 5 ~ Insight

*Emily's Dream*

I lay on my back, head tilted to the side, my arms spread out wide across the floor. My hands ran mindlessly through the plush carpet beneath me, gracing my fingers with its soft velvet strands. The light filtered in, past the heavy, Victorian styled curtains, its rays coming to rest at my feet. Its warmth coating the air and illuminating my lavish decor surroundings.

A large dark, oak bookcase stood proudly, lining the full length of the back wall, books seamlessly stretching from one end to the other. Standing to its side was a young woman, slight of frame with long curling blonde hair, falling to below the waist. She turned to face me; her features tainted by the sunlight, yet her vibrant green eyes shone effortlessly through the blur, the clear emotion of contentment and happiness apparent on the woman's face. As she approached I noticed the book clutched to her chest. She crouched down in front of me now and spoke wordlessly as she held the book out into my view.

Its dark crimson cover was worn with age; its edges creased and yellowed pages simply bound to its solid, leather spine. The book itself was about the size of a notebook, a journal. It bore no words on the front, no patterns, no marks or decoration. It was title-less, yet timeless and I reached out to grab it...

*Crash*

The door to my left burst open, splitting in half from the impact and impaling its closest surroundings with its dagger like splinters. A scream rang through the air as the previously frosted glass window shattered into a million tiny fragments. A fire had somehow broken out, its flame consuming the edges of my vision, its warmth caressing my bare arms and legs. I watched unaffected as it consumed everything in sight. The scene starting to fade, burning around the edges, the familiar woman having now disappeared from sight. The sound of something shattering next to me rang through the air....

I woke up with a start; my breath came out in short rasps as I clutched the covers around me. I turned to switch on the wall light beside me but glass littered the table beneath it. My eyes began to adjust and I realised it wasn't as dark as I first thought, but still the lamp lay bulb-less, its shattered glass glinting from each spark which jumped from its coil. The gleaming white embers flickering, its glow consuming the table, yet not damaging it. The rhythm matching my rapid heartbeat, only dying down as my pulse slowed to a more regular timing.

I took a few minutes to process the dream, each scene vivid inside my mind as I went through each aspect, calling forward individual details as it passed. Eventually I settled on the thought that the woman I had seen was in fact my mother, she had the same brilliant green eyes as my own, yet she was still as nameless as before, but defiantly my mother.

I'm guessing the book she was holding was the one she wanted me to find, the one mentioned in the letter. A wave of satisfaction shot through me at having come up with those answers, however the ending still caught me off guard as I recalled it. It had all felt so real, so familiar, the possibility of having invented the scenario seeming ridiculous, yet accepting that it could have been a memory felt even more absurd. I had barely spent a few weeks in my mother's company, the possibility of having memories, never mind recalling them was extremely low. But still, I couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of familiarity.