Vivid Dreams

Summer Camp

I am at my dad's, and my sisters and I are packing for camp. I'm showing off a cool DIY trick I found, to store things like shampoo and conditioner inside a straw by burning the ends and labeling them. They're each very impressed. We are discussing which of our family or friends will be at camp this year, and they're all a bit giggly and I'm not sure why. We get in the van--whose van is this?--and start the drive through the mountains, I won at rock, paper, scissors so I get to choose the music. Suckers! I drown myself in the new Mitchy EP all the way there until I can finally see the sign for camp. We have a co-ed cabin this year, and I take note that that seems odd. As we begin unpacking our things, I see that I've been put against the wall again this year, only to make it worse, Mandi has left an open bed between us. That's nice. We are all set up, and I've put my hurt feelings aside for dinner. As we all sit at the table catching each other up on our lives, I want to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. My husband is late with the kids, and inside I'm favor raging because we should have just driven together. Jessica was so angry, but I felt defeated and it wasn't worth the fight. It's warm out. Suddenly too warm. I have that nervous feeling in my stomach and I start looking around for danger. Going through my mental checklist, I see that everyone here is ok. I call my husband, they're fine and almost to camp. Wait, where's my dad? I excuse myself from the table conversation--no one was talking with me anyway--and head back to the cabin. As I open the door, it hits something blocking the entryway and I try and push past it. Probably one of my sisters 10,000 shoes she had to bring to the mountains. My back hurts from the long drive, and I feel exasperated trying to pry this damn door. I decided to give it one final push before going to look for help. As I take in a sharp breath, I hear behind me the sound. The sound of the voice I'd know anywhere. Standing behind me is my boy. WHAT THE HELL? My hands are sweaty and my mouth goes dry. "Why are you here?" I ask a tad too loudly, causing my voice to hit an unfamiliar octave. He says our dads ran into each other at the auto parts store and Mike thought it'd be a good idea to get him out of the city. I say the thing I always say when what he says doesn't compute: SHUT THE FUCK UP? He giggles that giggle and apologizes for blocking the door. As he left the cabin--WHAT?!--one of his bags fell over and it was too heavy to push it back open alone. Now I'm giggling, and twiddling my thumbs, because what is happening right now and where is everyone? We start nudging the door, our backs against it and I'm painfully aware of his shoulder heaving into mine. Stop touching me, I think to myself. As we push one more time, sweat falling down our faces, we hear a moaning sound. A painful 'please help me' sound. I run around the cabin to peek inside the window and I spot my dad by the door. The bag is atop his legs and there's blood around his ears, slowly dripping on the floor. I begin to panic and scream for help. I yell to Mitchy that we need to break a window and call 911, forgetting we're at the camp and the medic will have to do. His face is pure panic, and I somehow take a mental note that this is a new expression for him, and I want to snap a picture but how ridiculous would that be? The window shatters and pulls me out of my thoughts. I see blood on my hands and I don't register that I've climbed into the window. My hands are on my dad, and I'm trying to get him to respond to me. He's mumbling and wincing and I'm too scared to move him to get the door open. I can hear people outside telling me what to do and I wish they'd shut up because my dad is trying to tell me something. I get a towel and dampen it, dabbing the cut on his head to see the damage. He is making a strange sound, and I look to see what he's trying to say. He's smiling. Weakly, but it's there. I ask him what's so funny, and he says "your stupid Mitchy is here, and he has more shoes than your sisters." Only my dad could make this joke in a moment like this. He tries to sit up and I ask him not to move. He furrows his brows and asks me rhetorically how anyone can help if we don't unblock the door. I try and lift the tallest suitcase I've ever seen off of my dad, and I just can't budge it. He tells me to just slide him over and I can't do that either. The hair on my neck stands straight up, and I hear him coming into the window. He says the medic is on his way, but we've got to move him and prop his head. I think this is a terrible idea because what if we break his neck? I hear a strange noise. A dog. There's a dog barking, that doesn't seem right. My eyes open and I realize I've woken up. I close them again and think back to where I was in the dream. I know when I'm asleep again because time has skipped ahead. I'm walking down a long hallway and the air smells like rubbing alcohol and pungent air freshener. I'm not by myself, but I'm too nervous to turn and look. If it isn't my boy I know I'm going to be sad. I'm walking with purpose, so I must know where I'm headed. I round a corner, and I can hear my family talking, slightly too loud to be in a hospital room. I walk into the room, and the person behind me follows me in. I still haven't looked because I don't want the Mitchy part of my dream to be over yet. They all go quiet, and my dad laughs his normal laugh and says "Boy, you have some fancy ass shoes to be coming to camp." His voice rings to my ears as he responds, "They're Balenciaga, Bill..." SHUT THE FUCK UP! I can feel my face go beet red, and my sisters are all laughing at me. The doctor is here, and she says that my dad can go home today. I'm so relieved, and we all let out a collective sigh of relief. I take note that my husband and the kids are here now, and Thomas is playing Tic Tac Toe with Mike in the corner of the room. I kiss my dad on the forehead and tell him to get some rest. We are all back in the van headed to camp again, and they start singing Pentatonix songs. Mitchy is blushing and I smile a sideways smile knowing that this day has ended perfectly. I say thank you for helping my dad. There's a campfire now and we are roasting marshmallows while listening to my kids share stories about their trip up here. My heart is so full. They all seem to be enjoying the Grassi boys, and I think to myself that maybe now they will understand why I love all things Mitch Grassi. I am looking around the fire and tell myself its ok to wake up now. And just like that, I'm up and making breakfast for the kids.