The Dreamer

Chapter 1

"Where are them?" Sarah threw the empty cardboard box across the room. It knocked a vase that fell right on a pile of clothes in another box.

"Oh shit," she exclaimed and rushed to ensure the vase was safe. She put it back in place. The lilies seemed unbothered and she took a second to caress the soft petals. With closed eyes, she brought the flowers closer to her nose and took in a soft breath. Instantly she was relaxed. Lilies were Sophie's favorites. She set down the vase. No, she would not let herself go down that rabbit hole again.

Sarah opened a random box and emptied its contents on the floor. Down on her knees, she thoroughly emptied searched among the clothes and few personal hygiene items. She emptied every pocket in any piece of clothing that had pockets. Nothing. Unable to stop her train of thought, her bobbling leg, and struggling to catch her breath, she sat down on the sofa. Gripping the fabric with her hands and reminding herself to breathe, the battle against the amounting anxiety.

Dr. Howard had told her tons of times to count her breath. Inhale for 4, hold for four, exhale for four, hold the air out for four, repeat. She tried to enforce the technique and slowly started to feel her heart rate slowing down. The kettle started whistling, forcing her out of her concentration. She had forgotten she turned the stove on. Briskly, she made her way to the kitchen to serve herself a cup of chamomile tea. Her hands were still shaky when she grabbed the mug and her knuckles had gone white; she brought the mug to her lips and blew on the steam while enjoying the warm sensation in her frigid hands.

The microwave glass reflected a disheveled face, her hair was a mess, and her whole face was pale. She collected herself as best she could, and made peace with the fact that she had lost her pills while moving boxes to the new condo. The first night at her new place was turning into a nightmare. She even started missing her old apartment, no matter how far from her office it was or how boring it had become.

I guess I will have to get my pills tomorrow. She took a glance at the golden framed clock that pointed almost midnight. I'll have to make it until tomorrow morning. She locked the door and looked at the place, boxes were everywhere and she would have so much work to do.

She made her way to the bedroom and stared at the bed for a few seconds. At least the bed was made and ready. The rest of the room was crowded with a horde of boxes, and the skeleton of a dresser without drawers.

Sarah slouched down on the edge of the bed while still holding the lukewarm mug. She looked around until she remembered the nightstand was still outside, so she set the mug on the floor, turned out the lights, and lay in bed with her eyes wide open.

How am I going to sleep without my pill? I have to be overly stupid to forget them or lose them, where the hell is that damn bottle anyways? Maybe I left them in the apartment. Maybe I can stop by tomorrow and look for them or I should probably just get a new prescription. Dr. Howard!!! Did I send him a message? I guess I'll just ask him tomorrow.

She tried to breathe mindfully. Sleeping was a struggle for her. It had been for almost half her life. Therapy hadn't helped, pills helped for some time until she needed a stronger dose. The dreams would manage to slip through once in a while, but the pills kept them away. Not tonight thou. She was certain she would dream again and what would come out of it? Last time she had a dream, people died. Don't go that rabbit hole again.

She closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing. 4 in, hold, 4 out, hold. She started drifting away after several minutes, and eventually reality dissolved around her.

"ugh," she gasped as she jumped from bed a few seconds later. She glanced at her phone. It was already 3:33. What happened? She realized she had fallen asleep and then had a dream. What was it? There was a dog, he was crying, and a red car, it ran it over. It was a Dalmatian. The dog felt familiar. Have I seen this dog before?

She glanced at the screen again. It was now 3:36 and her head felt lucid and fully awakened. She sat up and grabbed the white mug from the floor. In the kitchen, she put the kettle on the stove one more time and sat down on the sofa to wait for it to boil. Sitting down at three in the morning in the middle of an empty living room, in an empty house, in an empty life, was the perfect setting for Sarah to let her mind bring back old memories.

In just a couple of minutes she wondered about her ex-husband and her daughter, how were they faring without her? He sure moved on rather quickly, and even decided that I am not good enough to raise my daughter. My sweet Jessica! She kept her photo in one of all the boxes but where would it be? My purse, she remembered. She had put the photo there while packing.

Inside the purse, an old sepia photo showed a little girl smiling with a mouth full of teeth. There were dimples in her cheeks; her chubby hands were holding to a toy. A bubble blower.

The kettle started whistling her back to reality and she put the photo back in place. She was serving some more tea when she heard outside a loud yelp followed by dog cries. Discreetly, she pulled the curtains and looked outside; it was pitch dark with few lamp streets and a cloudy sky. A red auto was right outside her window, and a man was bending down to see something behind the back tires. He looked around a few times and Sarah closed the curtain quickly before they made eye contact. She waited until she heard the car drive away.

A red car. Her curiosity took away the awareness that it was the middle of the night and she unlocked her front door. She took a step outside and looked around. Park slope was eerie at night. The neighborhood didn't look as bright, diverse, and European as it did earlier. A few lights went on in a couple of condos around her, but they quickly were turned back off. Just more curious people.

Against her best judgment, and with her heart thundering in her chest, she came closer to the pavement where a bloody animal tried to make small movements until it just gave up. Sarah stood in front of it with her eyes filling with tears.

No, not again. She started sobbing, loudly, not again. If anybody happened to see her, it would look as if it were her own Dalmatian.

She managed to make it back indoors where the tea had gone cold. She sat down and just let the tears flow. It had happened again. Her dream had come true, and somebody else had died, a dog this time. But next time it might be a human if she allowed herself to dream again. After her family had perished, she could not dream again. I won't allow it. I need my pills, Dad!!! Sophie!! I am sorry. "I am sorry," she said aloud struggling for breath and to keep coherent words.

By Four-thirty, she had relaxed and drank three cups of chamomile tea. She was now sitting on the sofa with her eyes tired but reluctant to sleep. She took a sip of tea every time her mind wandered to that fateful day when she had lost her father and sister.

By five, her eyes had closed and she had fallen asleep on the sofa. She woke up startled and disoriented. Where is my bed? Then it all came back. She struggled to her feet and looked outside the window. It was still dark, but the sky was turning a clear shade of blue while the sunlight filtered between the condos, trees, and Brooklyn's buildings in the background. Somebody had been kind enough to move the dead dog to the side of the road, close to the sidewalk, but the dog was still there. It was a reminder of her dream and her dead family, and by association, the whole mess her life had turned into.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself she had experienced a very unusual and moody night, and morning. I just need new pills. I will get to the office and everything will be fine like always is.