The Dead That Dream

Chapter 1: Calling All Dreamers

I don't really know where to start.

The war, my life before the war. The death, the destruction.

Any moment in my life before this day would tell my story fine.

But I've never been happy with fine.

I prefer extraordinary.

_______

I remember what I was doing when it started. So clearly it could have been yesterday.

It was November 16th. It was Autumn.

The golden leaves were falling, and piles of delightfully crunchy leaves piled on the ground, attracting schools of children from all over. Right now, my brother was playing in one. He had ran home from school, and bounded straight into a yellow mass. His laughter could be heard from inside. Looking out of the small window above the sink, I laughed myself. I dug my hands back into the sink, filled to the brim with suds. Just finishing washing out a glass, I placed it on the metal dish rack, stacked dangerously to the left.

"Morning, hon," said a gravelly voice behind me. I turned around, and saw my mother standing In the door way, leaning against the wall. She had her hands wrapped around herself, and her pink, fluffy dressing gown. Her nose was red and swollen, and her eyes had deep circles underneath them. I mock frowned to her, holding out my gloved hands, my arms covered in soap. Laughing softly, she walked towards me, and hugged me tight.

That was the last time I hugged her. I remember her smell; aloe Vera. She had blamed the tissues she'd been drowning in for the last week, and I had laughed at her. I had wrapped my hands around her stomach, and she had wrapped hers around mine. I squeezed tightly, and took comfort in her warmth.

I could count the tears I cried that day, but I couldn't count our hugs. She gave the best hugs.

After she pulled away, she walked over to the island bench, sitting cozily in the middle of the kitchen. In the mass of stainless steel, the blonde wood was more natural, and I always found Mum preferred that.

She picked a cookie off the plate that I had just taken out of the oven, and took a small bite out of it, blowing on it first.

Ever since I was little, we had been more than mother and daughter. We had been friends. She was one of those woman that walked into a room and a simple smile broke the proverbial ice. I had always been comfortable around her. It had always been 'us'. I was my mom's person. We just...fit.

Now was no different. We laughed, we joked. We talked about everything and nothing and even the words we didn't speak we understood.

"So..." She said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows, "How's that boy Jai?"

I snorted, knowing that my mother knew full well I had never been interested in Jai. Actually, he was the bane of my existence.

"Oh, he's going great", I said sarcastically. I waved my hands in the air, imitating my mother when she got animated. "We're just so in love." I rolled my eyes. My mum took my hand, and twisted it around in her own. I could feel the cool metal of her engagement ring, and the thinner band of her wedding ring next to it. This time taking her hand in mine, I rubbed my thumb on the rings, thinking of him.

"You never talk about him," I said hesitantly. I didn't want to upset her. She hadn't really talked about it since he died, even to me.

"It doesn't really worry me," I continued, "cause I remember him. But Drew doesn't. Every man that walks in the house could be his father, he wouldn't know." I swallowed, regretting that I had brought him up, as I watched tears form on the corners of her eyes.

"Mum, I'm sorry-" I started, but she cut me off.

"You're right. I should talk about him more, it's just...." Her voice trailed off, as she searched for the right word.

"Hard," I finished for her. "It's just hard."