Last Night's Dream
“Mom, the light’s green”, Christopher said, joined by a cacophony of car horns blaring in agreement. Chris and the horns jolted Margaret out of her thoughts. Her mind had wandered to the dream she had the previous night.
She and her son sat in a blue Honda Accord, two blocks away from Christopher’s school, St. Gregory the Great. She shook herself, trying to get her mind to focus on the road, and drove past a multitude of similar suburban houses. She pulled onto 8th Ave, where the school was, and parked in the parking lot outside of St. Greg’s. Christopher grabbed his school bag, and began to reach for the door, when his mom spoke.
“Chris, uh…be careful today, ok?” Her voice trembled. She reached over to kiss Christopher on his forehead, which he begrudgingly accepted.
“Mommy, I’m a big boy now. You don’t have to kiss me every day”, he whined.
Margaret chuckled softly, recalling Chris’s birthday party, which had happened only the day before. “If being ten makes you a big boy, what does that make me? I’m 30.”
“Mommy, you’re not really thirty,” Chris said, clearly worried that his mother didn’t understand age or numbers, “you’ve been saying that for, like, five years. You can’t be the same age for five years!”
“Are you sure? I don’t expect to turn 31 for at least another 3 years. Now, come on.” With that, Margaret and her son stepped out of the car, and walked to the gym door. Inside the gym, teachers gathered their students, and the principal stood next to a microphone and lecture, ready to deliver any announcements she may have had.
“Goodbye sweetie, I’ll see you later,” Margaret said, forcing herself to smile. It stretched a little too far, a little too wide, to be genuine. But Christopher didn’t seem to notice. Once Margaret saw Christopher join his class, and begin talking to some of his friends, Margaret returned to her car.
Once inside, her anxiety returned, and she began to dwell on her thoughts. Well, one thought really—the same thought she had been thinking all morning—the dream she had last night. In her dream, Margaret sat in a room with only one source of light, a ceiling bulb hanging on a long wire. How long exactly, Margaret couldn’t tell. Underneath the bulb stood a desk, on which rested Margaret’s cellphone. Margaret reached for it, and nearly grabbed it, before it started to ring. The caller ID said, “Mrs. Williams (School Nurse)”.
Margaret picked up the phone. “Hello? Mrs. Williams?”
Mrs. Williams sounded worried. “Hello, Mrs. Salvatore. Your son… has been in an accident. We called an ambulance, but you need to get here now.” Then Mrs. Williams voice sounded far away, like she had moved the phone away from her mouth. “What?... No, no, that can’t be…how can I tell her that? I can’t tell her that her son died”.
“What? What do you mean?” Margaret shouted into the microphone. “What do you mean my son is dead?” Suddenly a loud whine played in her ears, beat after beat after beat, like someone pulled a fire alarm in her brain. The ceiling bulb turned off, and she was left in total darkness as the sound grew louder and louder
Margaret snapped up in her bed, sweating. In front of her sat Mark, her husband, half dressed. His work began before Margaret’s, so he was in the middle of getting dressed when Margaret’s dream began. He put his right hand on the side of her neck and rubbed her cheek with his thumb.
“Are you alright? You were practically screaming in your sleep.”
“I…I had a dream where…Chris…God, it felt so real.” Margaret grabbed Mark’s hand and squeezed it tight.
“Do you need me to stay with you? I can call in sick.”
“No, no, no. It’s…it’s just a dream.” She barely looked at him while she spoke. They sat in silence for a bit, holding each other, before Mark asked to know what the dream was about, in as much detail as she was comfortable with. Margaret explained most of the dream, only faltering at the end. She couldn’t say “died”; her lips wouldn’t let her. But Mark understood, and he kissed her on the forehead and told her that Chris didn’t have to go to school today; Margaret gets Mondays off, so Chris could stay with her.
“No, he shouldn’t miss school because of a silly dream”.
Even though Margaret had denounced the dream as “silly”, it clung to her thoughts like a leech. This silly dream consumed her as she poured Chris’s cereal, which she had poured so much of that it flowed from the bowl onto the kitchen table. It consumed her as she drove Chris to school and lost herself waiting for the green light. And it consumed her as she sat in her car, hearing the school bells declare the beginning of class. She had been sitting in her car for almost 20 minutes, reliving that dream.
Finally, she returned to reality, and drove home, fighting hard to distract herself from her thoughts. Even the radio, which always played her favorite 80s songs, acted only as a temporary dam against the tide of emotion, which consumed her when she returned home. Once she entered her house and closed the door, she collapsed in a pile on the floor and wept.
Margaret didn’t know why the dream affected her so violently. It wasn’t because of any religious belief; Margaret had never been a devout believer, and she didn’t think this dream was some kind of warning from God. It wasn’t because she was an overprotective parent. She had let Christopher go on a trip with the Boy Scouts, sending 3 days in the nearby woods, which all people in town knew still had wolves and, occasionally, a bear. Perhaps it affected her so strongly because she didn’t understand it. Like most people, she had never had a prophetic vision before, and did not know if she could believe her mind.
“I have no reason to believe it, but…I have no reason not to believe it either,” She said to herself, “Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t true. But how true is it? Is it definite, or can I change it?” She stood up, wiping the tears from her face. “I have to change it. I have to try to change it. And, well,” she forced her left hand into a fist, digging her fingernails into her palm hard enough to draw blood, “I had that dream for a reason. Nothing will change if I don’t try.” She turned to her left and looked in the mirror which hung on her living room wall. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but they were filled with determination. She looked at her reflection for a few seconds, then left the house, entered her car, and began her drive back to St. Gregory the Great.
As she drove, she thought of how she would get Christopher out of school. “Family emergency would work, or maybe doctor’s appointment. I may look like an idiot for ‘forgetting’ that Chris had a doctor’s appointment today, but they probably won’t mention it. Though, maybe a family emergency would get him out quicker. Plus, I could justify keeping him home tomorrow if necessary.” She continued to debate this point with herself all the way to school. Finally, decided on the ‘family emergency’ excuse, and pulled into the parking lot.
Once she parked, and exited her car, she heard several children laughing, yelling, and playing. “He has gym first today, doesn’t he?” She was right. Mondays were gym day at St. Greg’s, which Christopher had during first period. Thanks to the lovely weather of this May day, the children, instead of being cooped up in the gymnasium, were let loose in the backyard. Margaret followed the sound of children to the backyard of the school. The backyard was a sea of cracked asphalt surrounded by a chain-link fence. Some children had drawn hopscotch boards in chalk, while others played soccer or tag. Margaret peered through the chain-link fence looking for her son, but he was hiding deep within the crowd. Once she had given up looking, she turned and started walking towards the front office.
“I’ll get it” a voice called out from behind Margaret. It was Chris’s. Margaret swung around, and saw Chris, going out the back gate to retrieve a soccer ball the boys had kicked into the street. Margaret started running towards her son.
“Chris! Chris!” she shouted.
Some children in the yard saw Margaret. “Look, it’s Chris’s mom. Hi, Mrs. Salvatore”. The children waved at her as she ran past.
Margaret looked down the street, which Chris was about to cross, and saw a speeding car. It was clearly ignoring the school zone speed limit. Unfortunately, many cars lined the sides of the street, blocking the driver’s view of the incoming Chris, who was about to enter the road. As Chris entered the road, he turned and saw the oncoming car. He tried to move his legs, but he was frozen in fear. The driver slammed on the brakes, but it was clear that he wouldn’t stop in time. Margaret, who was now running as fast as she could, reached out and grabbed the boy, pressing him against her. She spun, facing her back to the car.
“Don’t worry Chris, Mommy’s got you. Mommy’s got– “
