In My Dreams

Crash course

A loud long meow echoed from atop the kitchen counter as Clara slammed the apartment door shut and dropped her purse by the door. Salem glared with big green eyes. Clara scooped up her big fluffy cat and carried him as she headed toward the bedroom. Salem nuzzled into her neck and settled down with his paws on her shoulder. She stepped toward the large desk taking up almost half the room. The queen bed was placed against the farthest corner, the blankets and pillows strewn everywhere. Only one nightstand stood by the bed, covered in scattered textbooks, random sheets of paper, and old M&M wrappers. A single desk lamp stood on it. 

She plopped Salem down gently onto the bed to sort through the desk's chaotic mess. Salem immediately hunkered down into the comforters and kneaded. Clara fumbled through the random assortment of post-its, notebooks, textbooks, papers, pencils, pens, old dirty coffee mugs, leftover dinner plates, and more M&M wrappers. 

"Where is it? Where is it?" she mumbled to herself as she pulled items aside, trying to find the right file Andy needed. She couldn't find anything with a manila folder. She groaned and rushed out of the room, toward the dining table. It was a small round table made of glass with crisp white cushioned chairs. Black cat hair was stamped into every chair, along with some pieces of litter by the chair legs. She sighed and started sorting through the equally chaotic mess of papers and books on the table. 

She heard the house phone go off. She almost jumped out of her skin. She rushed toward it and picked it up on the second ring. "H—hello?" she asked, breathless. 

"What's taking you so long? I need that file now," Andy retorted. 

"I—I'm trying. It's—it's not on your desk. I'm trying to look through the stuff on the dining table."

"Are you kidding me? It's not on the dining table! Why can't you think? I put all my client's files in my filing cabinet by that insipid bookshelf.  Why would I have important files just out there in the open for the cat to—just—nevermind. Get it now. It's under the last name, Charleston." He hung up again. 

As soon as he vanished, Clara wilted and put down the phone. Her lungs clenched and she felt like she would faint. She tried to steady her breathing. She walked to the brown leather couch and sunk in. She hoped she'd keep sinking until the leather would wrap her up completely and she disappeared. Her eyes slowly roved over the living room, toward the filing cabinet. It was a tall metal cabinet that stood out harshly next to her mahogany bookshelf. It had six shelves filled with books she collected over the years since she was a child. On the top shelf were her fairy tale books, stories like The Beauty and The Beast, Robin Hood, and Arthur and The Round Table. The next three shelves were filled with her young adult fantasy books. Then, the last shelf was stuffed with miscellaneous self-help and non-fiction books. Something she acquired as she grew to her now twenty-eight years. 

Her eyes drifted over her books with endearment. Then, something caught her eye. Her mouth set in a line. The bookshelf stood by the television across from her. Under it, there was an entertainment center filled with old movies and a dvd player. Right on top of it all was a sea of picture frames. Andy and Clara smiling in a sleek purple prom dress and tux at seventeen years old. They made funny faces at the camera with graduation gowns and caps. They kissed under mistletoe hung over a wedding altar, a bouquet of holiday flowers in Clara's hands. They looked into each other eyes as they posed for a picture in front of the Eiffel Tower. Pictures of them, their family, their cat, and then one last picture, a little off to the side. Andy looked up with an insincere smile with his cellphone on his ear as Clara smiled at the camera with a wave.

They had been high school sweethearts. Married when she was nineteen years old. Now, Clara felt the weight of being twenty-eight while her husband was twenty-nine. They had been together for roughly ten years. In that time, she had gone to college to become a psychologist and Andy poured his soul into a law degree and worked at his father's firm. A lot of friends and family admired them as the power couple. Clara should have felt satisfied with a wealthy lifestyle. They finally had paid off their student loans and debt. They had everything they needed now to build their life together. 

Clara frowned and turned away. She slowly rose from the seat. She looked up at her bookshelf and plucked out her favorite book. Beauty and the Beast. She hugged it to her chest and sighed. They used to talk about buying a house and then having kids. They used to talk about going on family adventures in an RV. They used to talk. She shook her head as tears burned in her eyes. The house phone rang, shattering her thoughts. She dropped the book on the couch and ran toward the filing cabinet.

She pulled out the file Andy needed, grabbed her purse and keys, and ran out the door. 

"Y—yes, hello? Miss Lavender, can you please cancel my appointment with the Rogers? Yes...yes, thank you. I'll be there for my one o'clock...yes. Thank you, dear," Clara said on her cellphone as she hurried into her Prius.  

She nodded as she listened on the phone and drove out of the parking garage and toward Thompson & Son Firms. As soon as Miss Lavender confirmed the cancellation, Clara thanked her again and hung up. "Shoot! I almost forgot!" she shrieked. Cars honked madly as she veered down the other side of the road to turn a corner. She fumbled with her phone, looking between the road and her directions to find the nearest sandwich shop for Andy's lunch. 

"Come on, come on!" she urged, her phone internet struggling to load the map page. 

It finally dinged and her directions were set into place. "Ha, ha!" she exclaimed in relief. 

"Turn right," it sang. 

Clara looked up at the sharp turn and looked behind her on the road. She peeked for any nearby cars and hightailed it across three lanes toward the turn. She didn't pause in front of the red lights before turning. She needed to hurry. She swerved into the turn and—a pickup truck slammed into the driver's side. Her head swung in the air as the car skid. It wobbled in the air and collapsed onto its side, throwing Clara into a perpendicular position, her seatbelt choking her. 

She felt something hot drip down her temple. Her jet black hair hung down over the passenger seat. Glass sparkled in the sunlight from every direction. She fumbled to unbuckle her seatbelt. Then, another car slammed into the pickup truck. Her head slammed into the wheel. 

She blacked out.