Five Seconds After the Flash

Chapter One

"I have long since given up on my dreams, but I have replaced them with even greater realities." -Charles T. Abbott

***

I had always had the most vivid dreams. They pulled me to a different world for a while, and when I awoke I was left with the lingering emotion of a twisted memory or warped experience as portrayed by my own mind.

That night, I knew I was dreaming the moment the scene was set.

"This Magic Moment" was playing on the small kitchen radio, and Grandpa stopped wiping the counter for a moment, closed his eyes and held up his left hand with a smile.

"Ah, this is a classic," he said, waving his hand back and forth in the air to the time of the music.

He crooned the lyrics of the chorus with his eyes closed. He had an incredible voice that harkened back to the olden days, and I felt like I was going back in time.

I smiled and started swaying. It was a good song, but it always reminded me of "The Sandlot." I had a feeling that he had different memories playing through his mind than the 1993 film.

He opened his eyes, still smiling, and held out his hand to me. I laughed and accepted, twirling round and round on the linoleum floor, my bare feet sounding a gentle "tap" with each step. I saw Grandma turn the corner, wiping her hands on her worn apron and smiling at us. She leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. I could see every notch on the door frame where Ryan and I had marked our growth, along with each of our cousins.

I had hoped the dream would continue to be pleasant, but it never did. The end always haunted me and pulled me closer to reality.

I looked up at my grandfather as I was still twirling, and his face become withdrawn, his cheekbones sticking out from hollow cheeks and sunken eyes glazing over as he stared into the distance, unblinking.

I woke up gasping for breath. I was in my college dorm, in my bed. The images from the dream fell away slowly and painfully, like pieces of broken glass. Five, four, three, two, one.... My eyes squeezed closed before opening and looking across the room. 

Lydia was still asleep. The privacy curtain cast a purple haze over her side of the room, but I could still see her bed through it when the sun was shining through the sole window.

I quietly sat up and got out of bed, tip toeing to the door and grabbing my shower caddy on the way out. I realized that my hands were slick with sweat as I turned the knob and opened the door. Outside, the hallway smelled slightly of mildew, and I didn't see a single person as I made my way to the community restroom.

My flip flops squeaked on the white tile and the sound echoed through the silence. It was the Saturday after final exam week, so most of the girls on my hall were sleeping off hangovers. As for me, I had been up late reading the same book that I had read multiple times since Grandpa died three weeks earlier. 

Standing in the shower, I smoothed back my hair and let the water stream down my face, willing the dream to fade. It was the same one that always haunted me, but this time it was so much more vivid, like a memory. I had been able to look into my grandfather's eyes, and could see the crinkles on the sides of them as he laughed. I had felt the linoleum floor under my bare feet as I danced to the same song that always echoed through my mind. It had been the last song that we had listened to together the final time that I had seen him alive.

I turned the water off and got out, dried off and got dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and an old concert tee. I set the shower caddy on the counter beside the sink and looked in the mirror.