The Dream Trotters

Chapter 21

Finn was once again in the white room.  He stared back at the pink door that he had entered with remorse.  He had no clue what was going on, yet he had scared that girl.  He hadn’t meant to.  As he slunk down onto the pristine floor, he surveyed his surroundings.  The next door was much less feminine.  

It was made with chalkboard paint, and covered by the doodles of a student who has been sitting too long in one class.  Drawings, weapons, numbers, letters, they all jumbled around on the surface of the door, creating a massive code that was only legible to the writer.  

The little doodles lightened Finn's mood, and he decided to "buck up" and open the door.  He fell face-first onto a really, really hard substance.  

"On your marks, get set, go!"  Yelled an announcer, and his words were accompanied by a gunshot.  Finn was startled by the sound, and smoke rang out around as racers took off around the track.  It was a setting that was very familiar to Finn, the high school track.  Rubberized asphalt met expensive shoes on this sacred racing grounds.  The air was warm, filled with cheers and staggered breathing.  

Finn quickly stood up, and noticed the symmetrical lines that surround him.   As the racers sprinted towards him, he panicked, and his feet felt like they were glued to the track. He couldn't move.  

Quickly, he scurried off the track and onto the thick green grass which carpeted the donut hole inside the racecourse.  Click.  Finn felt cold metal press to the side of his head.  And turned to see someone holding a gun, pointed at him.

“What on earth are you doing here?”  said a rather nasally boy, who must have been a year or two younger than Finn.

He was holding the pistol that had announced the start of the race, waving it around threateningly, as if it were a real gun. Finn slowly turned, muttering to himself, “it’s all a dream… it’s all a dream.” The boy had a face similar to that of a cherub, the ones you see on Valentine’s cards, and was about a foot or two shorter than the dreamer.   

He had thin wispy blond hair, which draped over his forehead, light brown eyes, and adorably large cheeks.  His face was liberally sprinkled with freckles, as if the person who created him was a toddler, applying too much salt to their eggs. Finn had to restrict himself from reaching out, and petting him.

“Do I need to repeat myself?  What are you doing here?”  Elliot, at least that’s what the nametag said his name was, waved the “gun” in front of Finn’s face, and put on the most terrifying face he could muster. Which was actually quite impressive, even though he still had a saintly appearance to him.  The boys eyebrows quivered with fright, an example of what the student was actually feeling inside.  

Finn looked down at himself, realizing what the boy was staring at.  His hair was bunched crazily, divided into three or four groups of very dark brown hair.  His pajamas were black, an altogether menacing color for the occasion.  

“I don’t care who you are.  But you aren’t supposed to be here! Get out!  Get out!”

Finn wasn’t sure what to do. Honestly, he did look pretty scary, with his black pajamas and scruffy hair. He attempted to smile at the boy, but it must have looked more like a sneer, for Elliot pulled the trigger; and nothing happened.

“Darn, it’s empty.” the boy swore, or at least tried to swear, coming from him it sounded like he was saying the word butterfly.  Finn turned to look at the “terrifying intruder”, and wondered what he would do next now that his precious weapon was rendered practically useless.  

Finn decided that he should just introduce himself.  Of course, it wasn’t everyday that he met someone in the middle of a track field, dressed only in his nightwear.

“Hello, I’m Finn.  I know I look a little messed up, but I assure you that I’m a student here at the high school.  And you  are?” Finn asked, and reached his arm out to shake the boy’s hand. But the boy yelled, and called for help.  Finn panicked, and as the hot summer sun beat down on his shoulders, he ran across the track, trying to see if anyone else saw him.  

But no one did. Not the racers who ran around the track at furious speeds, not the spectators who sat in the stands, smearing on sunscreen, not even a boy who ran past Finn with a javelin.  Finn was all alone, at least all alone with an angel boy who had threatened to kill him minutes before.  As he ran, Finn noticed something.   

Around his neck, hung the small, silver key he had used before, to exit the little girl's room.  He looked, and looked for the lock. But he just couldn't find it.  And then he saw it.  In the middle of one of the shot puts, which lay next to a sandy pit, was a little golden keyhole.  

Without hesitation, Finn grabbed the key and put it in. Exhausted, and almost ready to scream from all the confusion, Finn finally landed on the floor of the white room, and thought about what to do. As he sat, a final, turquoise door appeared, inlaid with silver designs.

In beautiful, cursive handwriting on the front was written: "Phillipa".  The sleep-deprived teen was shocked, and finally dismissed it as a terrible part of tonight's dream, and mustered up the courage to go through the door.

He was sitting in a car.  A 1970's turquoise Volkswagen Beetle, to be specific.  The car wasn’t dirty or even filled with trash, instead it was neatly vacuumed and accompuniedAn extremely cute, little girl sat in the front seat with an elderly man, and they seemed to be giggling about something.  

They were a cute duo, as moth grandfather and grand daughters are.  Finn leaned in from the front seat, to see what was so funny.  

"And Grandpa, that's when Archimedes discovered how to calculate volume!" the little girl, who was clad in dirty blue overalls, said as if finishing a story.

"Oh Phillipa, you are too funny."  he turned to smile at her, and she kissed him lightly on the cheek.  Wait one second there, Finn thought.  This little girl looks and talks like my friend, but how could she?  I've never seen a picture of her when she was younger.  Or even met her grandfather.  

The old man had a rather kind, nautical look to him.  His soft grey beard and mustache made him look intelligent, and knowing.  He had caramel colored eyes, not unlike Phillipa's, and a neat brown suit on.  He was a decent weight, yet could have pulled of any mass because of his kindness.  One’s eyes were drawn to his face, not his stomach.  

Suddenly, a car across the road beeped its horn at them, as it lost control and sped towards Phillipa and her grandfather.  The elderly man ripped off Phillipa’s seat belt, and literally through her in back, as carefully as he could for the occasion.  As she landed jarringly on Finn’s shoulder, the other car slammed into theirs.

And then, the dream went black. Finn was now in a floral wall papered room, with horrible maroon chairs.  A woman, who looked similar to Phillipa cried in one of them, and a nurse tried to console her.  Then Phillipa walked out, wearing a pink and blue cast on her arm.

“Mommy?  Where’s Grandpa?  Where did he go?”  She asked innocently.  

“Honey, Grandpa is gone.”  Her mother said, as kindly as possible.

Phillipa was old enough to understand, and tears began to roll down her cheeks.  Then she noticed Finn, and walked toward him.

“Finn, it’s breakfast time, come on. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey?”  She said to him in a singsong voice.

“What the..?”  He replied, and that was the exact moment he woke up.

“Finn, I made breakfast.  Be down in five minutes?”  Phillipa was wearing her pj’s, and she started laughing to herself at the way he woke up.  Nearly jumping straight out of bed, his face was coated in surprise, yet a single tear seemed to slip its way off the end of his chin.

“Wait, were you crying?  Anyway, I have breakfast ready, come down when you want to eat.  I can’t wait to tell you, I had the weirdest dreams last night.”  She said, and skipped off down the stairs.