Mirror Me

10: A Dream of Mothers and Monsters

I twisted and turned on the cold hard ground. My eyes moved frantically behind my eyelids as I dreamed of home.

Suddenly I was standing in my living room. The familiar smell of lavender wafted from a lit candle on the kitchen counter. The leather couch, my grandmother's rocking chair, and the long coffee table were all in their proper place. Even the family portrait hung correctly above the couch. Yet even with the room looking and smelling the same, something different picked at my mind about the home I knew so well. Then I heard it. A faint sound of a woman crying down the hall. My shoes scuffled along the carpet.

I passed by my room. It was dark and empty. Where the bed and the dresser once sat now only haunting outlines remained. Moonlight filtered in from the window haloing on the wooden floor. I wanted to look away, but an oppressive force kept pulling me back. My eyes fell on my closet door. The place that had caused me so much grief stood like a tall monster arching over the room waiting to swallow me in its dark embrace.

A loud knock banged from inside the closet. I jumped and grabbed hold of my chest. The floorboards beneath me creaked as I stumbled backward into the hall. The clock nearby blinked the time, 1:08 in the morning. Another knock shook the door at its hinges, scattering dust in the air. I knew a third knock was on its way. Instead, a paper slid out from under and stopped at the threshold before me. It was a drawing my sister had done of a purple cat.

"How curious," I thought, tapping it with my foot. Then I heard the crying once more echo from another room. "Mom!" I cried tossing the paper aside.

Light burst forth from under my mother's bedroom door slowly filling the darkened hallway. I shuffled quietly unsure as to what I would find. My mother seldomly let anyone enter her room since the only mirror allowed in the apartment was locked away inside. The brass knob was cold in my hands. I pressed my ear to the wood and listened for another sound, one that might grant me entry. Faint like the buzz of a hummingbird's wing, a muffled cry reverberated from inside. Carefully I pushed open the door.

Across the room my mother hunched over her makeup desk. Tears pooled on the wood by her elbows while her palms pressed into her cheeks. A trash can overflowing with tissues sat beside her. Within her desk mirror the faint image of myself reflected. I stood like a ghost, partly mist and unable to fully join this dreamlike world.

"Mother," I said, my voice sounding soft and distant as though speaking through a wall of water. "Mother, I'm home. Please don't cry. I didn't mean to go away. I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry for what I said about you and dad." My mother did not respond. I took a step forward. "Please stop crying," I pleaded. "Why can't you hear me?" I reached out to comfort her, but my hand phased through her shoulder. I realized then this was truly a dream. She couldn't hear me. She couldn't even see me. I was a painful memory to her, and she was my subconscious creating one of my greatest fears. Yet it all seemed so real.

"Is that you, Hope?" Turning around I was shocked to see my abuelita standing in the doorway. "It is you."

The old woman's long braids dropped just above her cat slippers. Large thick glasses pressed against her eyes as she hobbled towards me. I always remarked on how shockingly poor my abuelita's vision was even with the help of the thick lenses. Though somehow beyond the inch of curved glass her turquoise eyes stared directly into mine.

"You're lost, mija."

"Where am I, Abuelita? Are you real?"

"You are in a dream. A very special dream. One that is shared by all our family when we want the same thing. You, mija, are our dreams tonight. Your sister paces outside remembering you. Look."

I glanced out the window. Laura was talking to a copy of me. We each hopped down the street carrying ice cream cones and laughing.

"I loved our ice cream walks," I said, twisting back to my mother. "And mom? Is she dreaming about me too?"

"She blames herself for what happened then and what happens now."

"What did happen to me?"

"Something both wonderful and terrible. But this destiny was not written for you and for that you must find your way back home."

A great rumble shook the entire room. The ceiling above cracked and the floor lifted.

"What's happening?" I cried, my knees wobbling.

"The dream is ending," said my Abuelita. A worried look filled her face as she lifted her head to the destruction behind her. "No," she said, correcting herself, "it is something else. Something is trying to claw its way into our sanctuary. You must run, mija, before it catches you!"

My mother faded into a mist as another rumble broke the wall near her desk.

"I don't understand, Abuelia," I cried. "Run from what? I just want to come home."

My abuelita grabbed my hands and squeezed them tight. The walls around us crumbled and fell. Her lips formed words but no sound came out. I shook my head in confusion.

"I can't hear you! Abuelita! I can't understand you! Abuelita!"

A tornado ripped through the room scattering papers covered in Laura's drawings. The wind whipped my hair and stung my eyes. I could barely see my abuelita as the storm swallowed her and took her away.

"Abuelita!" I screamed. I shielded my face from the storm. The floorboards beneath me rose and cracked in the pounding wind. Papers, dresses, and all parts of the home twirled around me until suddenly everything stopped.

The storm had ended, but what was left was a ruined version of my home. All the furniture was gone, the doors bent inward, holes in the wall, nails and split wood scattering the floor. It was an empty shell where only the moonlight dared to fill. I breathed deep and dashed across the hall checking every room, crying out for someone to answer me.

"Mom! Laura! Abuelita Maggie! I'm still in the dream. Is anyone here?" No response. I was alone. Tears burst across my cheeks as I fell to my knees.

"I just wanted to go home," I whined. "This is not home. This is a nightmare. I want to wake up."

Suddenly a knocking sound echoed through the apartment. My head lifted and my eyes grew wide. I knew exactly where that sound came from.

"The third knock," I whispered as I hesitantly entered my crumbled bedroom and approached the closet door.

The cat picture lay just where I had thrown it. Only this time it was shredded and crumbled as if some cruel beast with a distaste for art had made it a chew toy. Laura's normally bold signature was smudged and no longer legible. I jumped with fright for behind my closet door I could hear the mumbling of strange voices. The memories and fears of my thirteen year old self pervaded my mind. An uneasy feeling wafted into my soul. I placed my hand on the knob and yanked the door open.

I stood face to face with my old closet mirror. Expecting to see Owen reflected back, I now saw the face of my childhood self holding a camera and snapping pictures.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It was a monster that night. I wasn't me. Was it?"

I reached out my hand to the glass. My young reflection did the same; dropping the camera by her feet. Suddenly everything changed. My reflection shifted to Owen, then to me again, then finally to a man with white mask and purple glowing eyes. A claw reached out through the glass and grabbed my wrist. It squeezed with such strength that I could feel the skin beginning to rip and tear.

"I got you now, Mirrorbender," hissed the masked man. "Tell me your name!"

"No," I cried while trying to pull my arm free. I shut my eyes and screamed and screamed until finally I awoke.