Just Jack

Part One: Chapter Two: Just A Mirror

 

Chapter Two

 

Just A Mirror

 

 

         

          You ever have one of those dreams that you want to wake up from so bad but deep down there is this part of you that wants to stay in it? One of those dreams where you relieve your past and watch helplessly as you try to change it? No? Then count yourself lucky. I have these dreams almost every night for the last two years. There is no escaping them, maybe because there’s no escaping your past. But deep, deep down I love these dreams for one simple reason. I get to see his face once more, even though this face ends up bloodied and resting on a road.

          The dream is a series of images and noises and flashing lights. It’s almost like I am there, in the back seat of the car on the way to Lake Blanche, watching a fifteen year old boy and his dad having a conversation. Then I am sitting in the old, wooden boat with them as they fish for fish that they don’t actually need- they just like the quality time together and the peace, away from the women. But then, I am in the car again and once I am back in the car, I know the dream is coming to and end.

          It always starts and ends the same. Begins with happiness and life, ends with sadness and death. We- myself, a younger me and my dad, are back in the car. I am on the phone. My mom’s voice can be heard even from where the present me sits. She is asking about the fish we caught. I smile as I watch the younger I exaggerate over the amount. It was really only about three or four- not ten. The younger me passes my father the cell phone. Sitting in the back seat, I want to jump forward and take the phone and throw it out the window. But any interaction I ever make goes unnoticed. They cannot be touched.

          For the final scene of the dream, I am standing outside in the midnight air on an empty road. I listen to the sounds of nature from a forest behind me and breathe in the smell of trees. I know what's coming next. It’s a mixed reaction watching it play out. Our jeep comes zooming around the bend while on the opposite side; a mother drives, carrying her young, sleeping daughter. The accident could have been avoided so easily. If my father was not on the phone, wasn’t laughing and was paying attention he would have drove right past her. Instead, he drove into her.

He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt so his body is flung from his seat, straight through the windshield and lands on the road with a great, loud thud. A pool of blood begins to surround him. I stand there watching his lifeless body and wait for my past self to wake up and scream. As soon as he awakes, I do too.

I immediately sit up in my bed. The sheets are wrapped around my legs in awkward positions. Beads of sweat plunge down my bare chest. I am panting. I run my hands through my hair and can almost feel my pupils widening as they adjust to the dark. I can just about make out my surrounding but everything comes into focus when my door opens.

Sammy stands in the centre of the doorway, holding tightly onto the door knob. She is wearing white PJ’s and looks quite innocent. I pull the sheets over my chest, almost ashamed that she saw me like this. We stare at each other in silence for a while before she finally speaks in a whispered, frightened voice.

“I heard you screaming.”

“It’s okay Sam, I was just having a bad dream,” I reply. She doesn’t move or go back to her room. I know what she wants. She wants to curl up into my bed and stay the night with her brother like she always does when I have a nightmare. I tap the empty space of my bed and with a faint smile; she closes the door and tip-toes over to my bed. After sliding in she almost falls asleep instantly but before she does she asks the question I was waiting for.