Jesse

One

"I had a dream about you. You were writing names and numbers in a book, and I asked if that was a phone book or the Book of Life. You answered in a way that blinded me with light, and I grew afraid. So I said, "Hey, what is that over there?" and I pointed over your shoulder, and when you turned to look I scribbled my name on the bottom of page one.
"

   Numbers are beautiful, numbers are infinite. Last night I dreamt about Jesse, they say that when you dream, you dream about the days events. I don't think thats true. Sometimes I dream about past events too. Sometimes I dream about things that haven't happened yet. Sometimes my dreams are so vivid I wake up, choking, gasping, pleading for air. Like last night. The tattoos on his hands were leaving an imprint around my neck. He was counting, between one and two. He never got past these numbers; he just bounced between the two of them.

One

Two

"One...Two" I whispered to myself, my eyes still closed.

I pulled the covers around my shoulders; I knew I had moments left. Moments until my mother came into my room to wake me up. She wakes me up to face the day. But I had nothing to face I was stuck within a loop, stuck within a town. Stuck within myself, just like her. I just wanted to lay here and dream, dreaming possibilities that I know would never come true. I didn't dream big, I didn't dream of anything fancy, I didn't dream of riches either.

NOR, did I dream of love.

I dreamt of the possibilities within our world, I had an obsession with numbers, they meant everything to me. I dreamt of the possibility that you could meet someone through fate, or guidance beyond our knowledge to bring people together. People meet every day on such mundane terms, why do people never look closer at these coincidences? I did, at least I tried too.

I looked at the bigger picture, I always had this theory, I have a scientific mind. What if our reality is created by ourselves? What if we are intentionally meeting these people we meet throughout our lives? Each of them holding a key, that one someday, you might very well need.

"Face the day!" My mother burst through my bedroom door.

"No!" I groaned as I pulled the covers tighter around my face.

"I found you a job, it's in the paper, waitressing what do you think?" My mother rushed out her words as she tugged on my quilt.

"I'm not going" I pushed my mouth into the covers 

"You are!" My mother said firmly.

She pulled the quilt back from my face, my hair clouding my eyes.

"This is day one." My mother pushed the hair from my face.

The armour that coated her face seemed to drop away, she like me was unstable. But she had many years on me, many years to perfect the façade she would surround herself with. Like my obsession with numbers, my mother had an obsession with re-starting her life; she was stuck in her mind. Every time she would reach the point of no return we would move, escape. Start new.

"Day one" I breathed, a small smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.