Renewal; A Tale of Katrina's Kitchen

The Dream

         It had followed her for some time, attracted by her smell. When it finally struck, her neck was snapped with ease. She was dead before her body dropped to the ground…a party.  No, a celebration of some kind. Intimate. Not a lot of people present.  In fact only two.  A  man and a woman.  Celebrating.  A nice looking young man.  A petite blond in a sexy red dress…it fed slowly, delighting in the flavors. And always that intoxicating aroma that first drew it to her. It shivered in ecstasy, gorging on different parts. Stopping to stroke or lick another limb. Cracking bones as it went, even the skull to reach the tender matter there…

        Katie shot up in bed, as she sucked in a breath, her shaking hands grabbed the notebook on her bedside table.  She knew this was one of those dreams.  Grabbing her pen she focused on remembering as many details as she could, then began to write.

        After several minutes of frantic scribbling, Katie read what she’d written, adding details here and there. The dream was fading fast, not an unwelcome event.  This was one of the worst she’d experienced, but she knew if this was a message, there would be more to come.  The dreams were broken up and often out of sequence.  She’d learned that many times over in the last twenty years.

        Katrina  Crowe had been having dreams of this kind most of her adult life.  The first time had left her reeling for days.  It wasn’t the content of the dreams, but the quality.   When she met the star of her first dream she quickly realized her life was about to change. 

        Katie’s grandmother, Caroline Crowe was sick.  In fact, she was dying.  It was at her deathbed that Katie learned she’d be having these dreams for the rest of her life.  Followed quickly by the surprise that some people had much bigger problems in their lives than she had ever thought possible.

         “My time is over, Katie, it falls to you now. It’s who we are.” Gram had said.  “We counsel people with problems outside of normal.  We help them cope with their afflictions.”

         “But, Gram, this guy says he’s a golem, I don’t even know what the hell that is!”

         “I left notebooks for you at the diner.  You’ll learn about him.  About all of them.  Go.  Read.  I’m tired, come back tomorrow.”  Katie returned the next day, and the next. There had not been enough days left to teach her everything she needed to know. 

          The little restaurant had been in the family for over a hundred years.  Before she had renamed it for herself, it had been Caroline’s Cupboard, before that, Norma’s Nook, and its earliest name had been Bertie’s Place, Bertie having been her great, great grandmother. Her mother had managed to avoid the family profession and refused to discuss it.  She referred to it as nonsense, and was disappointed that Katie chose to take on the diner and its bad influence. 

        The diner was now Katrina’s Kitchen. It was nestled between the town post office and the hardware store.  Gram had left it to Katie when she passed away.  The diner and the “gift” that Katie often thought of  as a curse as well. 

        Katie chuckled to herself as she remembered the first time she’d opened Grams notebooks.  Her first thought had been Gram was bat-shit crazy, little did she know the life that awaited her. She shook off the memory and glanced at the bedside clock, 2:30, no sense trying to go back to sleep. The alarm would ring in another half hour anyway. She stuffed her feet into slippers, grabbed her robe and shuffled to the bathroom.

        She took a quick shower to help wake herself and shake off the bizarre dream. Though she’d be starting the coffee machine in the diner soon, she enjoyed making her own morning brew at home. She started the percolator in the tiny kitchen. It’s one window overlooked the roof of the hardware store next door. She had hung a bird feeder outside the window and sometimes, she’d throw bread on the roof for the birds. She checked the level of bird feed as she waited for the perking to finish.

        Cup of steaming coffee in hand, she went to the living room. She sank into an old overstuffed chair in front of one of the two large windows that looked down on Main Street. There was no one out at this hour, in a town this small there wasn’t even a daily newspaper delivery.

        Katie enjoyed this quiet time of the morning. She picked up a folder from her end table. It held her hand written ideas for the day’s menu and a list of to do’s. A trip to the kitchen for a refill, and a finalization of the day’s menu. At 4:00, she grabbed her keys and headed out the apartment’s door.

        The stairs from her apartment ended at a closed landing with two doors. One opened to the alley outside. The other she unlocked and entered the office of the diner. Living in the flat above her business was a convenience at this hour.  

        Leaving her folder in the office, Katie entered the kitchen of the diner. She flipped the light switch on her way by. A quick turn of a knob fired the grill then she set the oven to preheat. As they worked on reaching temperature, she opened the small walk-in cooler to pick up a box of fresh bacon and the biscuit dough she had rolled out and cut the night before.

        She laid several rows of bacon on the grill. As they sizzled, she lined the pre cut biscuits on a large baking sheet and loaded it into the oven. She set the timer and finished frying a few more rows of bacon. Her kitchen prep underway, she headed for the dining room.

        Katie started the coffee maker. The aroma of the brew mingled with the smell of freshly browned bacon. Comforting smells that she inhaled deeply in an attempt to block the gruesome images of last night's dream. She watched the glass decanter fill slowly with twelve cups of morning perfection. As she gazed at the stream of coffee, the steam rising inside the pot rolled and shuddered. Katie's eyes were drawn to the patterns as they swirled into a scene that had no place in a coffee pot.

        The scruffy forest outside of town. A man, worn, mentally beaten. He was pushing against the spindly tree trunks at the forest edges. Most of the leaves had fallen, making his steps slow in the frosty dawn. This man hadn’t seen happy in a long time. His jeans were worn as his face, torn at the knees, faded by days of use. The coat he was wearing had seen better years.

        She was yanked from her vision by the oven timer’s impatient beep. Biscuits were ready and required her attention. The tired man hadn’t arrived yet, but he would. Another few days, he’d find his way to Katrina’s Kitchen. They always did.