Ship of Dreams... And Other Short Stories

Ship of Dreams

Ship of Dreams

~a short story~

"I don't want to go," he had said to me the day before he left.

"Why not," I had said to him.

"Because I feel like something bad is going to happen."

"Now, why on earth would you feel something like that?"

He looked down.

I took his chin and lifted his head so his eyes would meet mine.

"Tell me," I said.

He sighed. "I had a dream."

"You've been having these dreams lately, Edward?"

He nodded. "They're all about the ship sinking while I'm on it."

"Well, why on earth would it sink, Eddy?"

"I don't know Mum. My dream always ends before I get to that part."

He looked down.

"But I'm scared," he continued. "For my dreams always get to the part where people are screaming, and jumping off the boat thinking they can save themselves. I was one of those people."

I looked him in the eye. "Eddy, this is the Titantic we are speaking of. This is one of the safest ships to stay on. There is no way it is going to sink. Your dreams must just be fear getting to your head."

He brought his hand up to his lip and started chewing at the nail of his thumb.

"Goodness gracious Ed," I said whacking his hand out of his mouth. "What have I told you about biting your nails?"

He groaned, "They give you warts."

"Right you are," I said. "Now why don't you quit worrying and finish packing the rest of your bags."

"Yes Mum," he said as he walked over to his closet and pulled out a dark brown, dirty suitcase.

I rolled my eyes. "Really? That old piece of trash?"

He looked at me. "It's my best one."

I shook my head. "Didn't I get you a brand new white one with gold rims, the other day?"

His eyebrows pushed an inch up and he shook his head. "No Mum. You didn't."

I put my finger to my chin in thought. "I didn't? But I thought I-- Oh, wait. I guess I did forget."

I watched as he placed the old suitcase on his bed, took hold of his zipper, and zipped it open.

Immediately, clouds of dust flew up into his face, causing him to sneeze.

He waved the dust away with his hand.

I sighed. "Wish I hadn't have forgotten. You're going to have a nasty cough by the time you reach New York."

He looked at me. "And whose fault is that?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's no one's fault, Mum. Only my own."

I nodded. "You better mean it."

He sighed and walked over to his bureau that sat in the corner of the room, near the window.

I watched as he pulled some clothes out of the few drawers that were placed in the old piece of wood furniture.

I noticed he pulled out a few pairs of pants, and a couple of shirts. I even saw a tux buried beneath the pile of clothes.

He brought them over to his bed and laid them in his suitcase.

He walked over to the bureau again and picked up a picture frame that sat on the base of the furniture. He walked over to me.

"Remember this?"

I smiled as I saw the picture in the frame.

It was from about a decade ago, 1902. Ed was just a boy of age eleven and I was young, in my early thirties. The picture was taken near the Natural History Museum in London, England. I was holding Ed's hand and we were smiling, but not at the camera. We were smiling in the direction of the museum. It was that day that my son had decided that he wanted to travel to the US one day, just like Christopher Columbus and his crew had.

Now, he was living up to that dream.

I looked up into my son's eyes. "Yes," I said simply. "I do remember it. And now you're making your hopes and dreams a reality."

He sighed. "I still don't think I should go," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "We just had this conversation five minutes ago. You are going."

He grumbled before sulking over to his bed and placing the picture frame firmly on top of the pile of his clothes.

****************

It's August 5th now, and I've been crying for almost 4 months. I never thought my son's dreams would come true.

I thought it was silly and ridiculous that he could dream up a boat sinking beneath his feet, but I guess I'm the one who looks ridiculous now.

I feel like I should've seen this coming. The Titanic is-- was called the Ship of Dreams. I just thought the dreams the Titanic was pertaining to, were the good ones such as heading to New York for the experience of a lifetime.

It never crossed my mind that nightmares were dreams too.

And sadly, Eddy's came true.

I looked down at my lap where the rotten, old suitcase my son brought with him, sat.

It hadn't even been a week since they retrieved it from the scene of the sunken ship, and not even a day since I got it back.

I caressed the top of the suitcase like it was a new born kitten that needed to be pet gently.

I took hold of the zipper and unzipped it, careful not to damage it even more than it already was.

Flipping the top open, I found my jaw sinking to the floor, as I saw what still lay in it from when he had packed that day he left.

It was the picture, the one of us near the museum in London. It was soggy and crinkled up. I could barely even make out the image.

I could feel tears threaten their way out of my eyes.

I brought my hand up to my mouth and starting chewing on the tip of my fingernails nervously.

If only I had listened to him, he'd be here right now saying, "I told you so," and I'd feel relieved that I had let him make his own decisions for once.

One thing I know is that either way--if he had stayed, I'd probably still be biting my nails.

The end. Please vote or review.