Everything That Matters

Chapter 8

I realised that I was wearing a long, flowy, white dress with a single red rose in my hair. The air around me was heavily scented and smelled... I guess, 'heavenly' is the word. The air smelt heavenly. I was walking along a makeshift pathway type structure but it was horribly foggy and I couldn't really make out anything distinctly. But there was this small voice inside me that was constantly commanding me to continue edging forward. So I found myself walking ahead anyway.

I stopped short suddenly, just as I noticed a figure far, far away making its way toward me. The figure wasn't walking, mind you. It strangely appeared to be gliding. This is freaking odd, I thought, and took in a deep breath in an effort to banish my nagging fear. The figure was too far away for me to make out if it was a man or a woman, but as it inched closer, I noticed that it had some definite feminine curves to it. The observation had me feeling stupidly reassured. For some unfathomable reason, I felt my body relax all of a sudden. The fear then morphed into confusion. I was hungry for answers.

I kept on walking, observing my surroundings as I moved. I could hear faraway bells tolling musically, their sound having a pleasurable echo to it. Despite all the fog, I managed to catch a glimpse of the ground and for the first time, I realised that I was walking barefoot on what had to be the softest, greenest grass my feet had ever touched. I gasped audibly and could practically hear the thoughts buzzing in my head. 

Abruptly, the small voice inside me told me to stop and it was as if it had some eerie connection with my feet because, I was astonished to sense that I had, indeed, stopped walking. I stood rooted to the spot, squinting at the woman who appeared to be purposefully walking - no, gliding - toward me. At long last, she stopped and I finally had the privilege of looking at her face. There was no other sound, except for the distant tolling of the bells, which now sounded eerie, for almost an entire minute. The silence was then shattered by a blood-curdling shriek. My blood-curdling shriek, to be exact. And I was a hundred percent positive that I was not over-reacting. Any red-blooded human would have done the exact same thing if he or she discovered that he or she stood staring at his or her dead mother whom he or she had buried not more then ten days ago. 

My mother waited patiently for me to stop screaming, but then caught on the fact that I wasn't in the mood to budge anytime soon. Finally, she snapped, "Gabriella, shut up. Enough with the drama."

"Mom, WHAT THE HELL! You are supposed to be dead! WHAT are you doing here? Forget that. WHAT AM I DOING HERE? Am I dead too?"

"Thanks a lot for the warm welcome, sweety. Gabriella, calm down. You are very much alive. Just dreaming."

"Would you care to explain, Mother?" I asked as calmly as I could, considering the circumstances. I idly wondered if I had finally managed to go bonkers. And then I realised that that was rhetorical. The answer was a big, fat, ugly YES.

"When the time is right, yes. Until then, I expect you to treat this maturely, Gabriella. I want us to solve all the pented up issues that we had been too egoistic to deal with when I was alive, dear. And I hope you think that that would be great. Not many people get a shot at closure, after all," she said, her voice suspiciously cracking toward the end.

While she'd been talking, I had managed to calm down enough to stand still and look at her. She was as neat as ever, not a single hair out of place. She was dressed in loose white trousers and a shirt the colour of lemons. I almost smiled. It was amazing, the way she managed to look like a Math professor through and through, even after an event like death.

"Alright, Mom. As long as I'm dreaming, and don't have to worry about psychiatrists' fees, I am game." I grinned. This was Mom, after all.

My words seemed to make her happy, because she actually smiled her radiant smile, and instantly transformed into a stunning beauty.

Grabbing my hand, she said, "I was hoping you would say that. Well, I'll go first!" She declared, looking at me for approval.

Her hand felt a bit colder than normal, but apart from that, there was nothing too dramatic about her touch. Nothing like the electric sparks or the scalding burns I had been stupidly expecting. I didn't know what else I could do, so I nodded.

"I am sorry," she said and her eyes pooled with unshed tears.

That stunned me. I stood there with my mouth wide open and finally choked, "You are? Why?"

"Look, I know I had always been distant. But, that's just me, I guess. And when you decided to go to New York, I was mad. I always wanted the best for you, still do, in fact. But yeah, you went anyway and I was so angry. Being a professor whose daughter just plain refused college added to my stubbornness and you didn't exactly try to make amends either and that made me even madder, but I never stopped caring for you, never stopped missing you. I guess, what I am trying to say is... Ugh! I don't know what I am trying to say. It's just so..." She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"Complicated," I offered. She nodded, looking relieved.

"I understand, Mom. I am sorry too you know. I was insensitive towards you back then. I should have tried explaining it to you. And you're right, instead of giving up, we should have tried to reconnect over the years. I missed you like hell, too. Let's just try and forget it, I guess. I think whatever is going on here is about new beginnings," I said philosophically.

"Yup. It is. Now that that's cleared, I've something I wanted to discuss with you. I heard about your interviews," she said, visibly relaxing.

"You did?" I asked, perplexed. She was supposed to be dead, after all.

"Well, not 'heard' exactly, but that doesn't matter! Us dead people have our mysterious sources," she joked feebly and continued, "The point is, I hope you do well. Especially with that waitress thing. I hope you get that one." As if to illustrate her opinion, she nodded vigorously and added,"I really do."

"Why? I mean, why're so keen on me becoming a waitress, of all things?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Because I think that one will pay the highest," she said. But that somehow sounded half-hearted to me. I had a feeling there was more to this.

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Absolutely." She squared her shoulders, a sign that no matter how much I bugged her, this was all she was going to give me, for now at least. She smiled and grabbed both my shoulders and said, "Goodbye, Gabriella. Time to wake up. I know you have lots to do ahead. But there's one last thing I want you to know." Her tone left me feeling squirmy, for some reason.

"What's that?" I sure had been asking a lot of questions the whole time.

"I love you," she said, and then there was blinding white light.

I woke up with a jolt, the action making the bed creak in protest. For a minute, I couldn't remember where I was and felt panic wash through my system, but then, I started remembering it all at once as I sat on my old bed with the ancient 'Bowling For Soup' posters staring back at me. Of course, there had been the dinner at Jane's, the drive back home, the getting-into-my-pyjamas ritual. And then, there had been 'The Dream', if you could call it that. 

I leapt out of bed and put on my favorite pink jumper, on the verge of tears as I felt the soft, familiar wool. You need help, Gabby, I thought as I made my way downstairs and automatically busied myself with brewing coffee. I sincerely hoped that the coffee would set everything back to normal.

By the time I had downed the last sip, I had decided to not over-think it. People had weird dreams all the time. Plus I had bigger fish to fry this morning. I had the mammoth task of parting with my car. Then, there was the bit about two interviews. The last thing I needed was to obsess over a dream involving my mother. 

I squared my shoulders and raised my chin, deciding that being dramatic was what I needed. But my shoulders drooped back down and a surge of alarm attacked the pits of my belly as I caught a whiff of my hair. I sniffed again to reassure myself and succeeded in taking my alarm to a whole new level. There was the unmistakable scent of roses on my hair. What was happening to me?

A/N: A BIG thank you to Nidster for the new cover. She's awesome! :)