The Girl Who Spent Life Forgeting

Life Might Be A Dream

Do you ever get that surreal feeling, like life isn't life. Like your just breezing through, never really focusing, that feeling that makes it seem like days are seconds, months are minutes, and years are hours.

That's what dreams are like.

My mother and I are in the car, not the new black Honda she has, but the old blue one she had, and lost. I loved that car, it had cigarette burns and the seats were dusted in ash as if it was confectioners sugar. It still had that broken rosery hanging on the center mirror from when one of her oldest friends had accidentally broken it. It still had those cracks in the wind shield on the upper right corner and as always, it had a boat load of old shoes in the back.

Every thing was like a postcard, a snapshot from the past.

Then the door on my mother's side opened, the wind whistled drowning my ears in noise.

Then there are two of my mother.

One in the driver's seat panicked thrashing somewhat, but still trying to keep the car steady and the other looked like a demon version of her. No not those raging, ghost movie ones, no this one was the one that slowly destroyed a person, creeping into they're soul filling it with hatred and despair.

The coldness in her eyes was unparalleled, it terrified me, paralyzed me, I could just barely breath.

I trembled as the demon ripped my mother out of the car.

They disappeared.

I was

A lone, the car swerved and I
W oke up
A s the impact
K illed me,
E verything was magnified.

The crunching of the metal, like tearing tinfoil.

The gym was deserted, I steadied myself and walked to the locker room. My clothes changed and every thing in order, I drifted outside, light searing my eyes no trace of rain on the concrete, I sighed and walked to the office.