Dreams... part 3

I took my time walking home. Trying to remember how many nights I had dreamed about that girl, Lauren’s sister. I knew for certain last night, and the night previous. But I had been trying so hard to tune them out; I couldn’t be sure much past last week. The last dream I recalled before the girl’s was the old man who died in the fire, he had fallen asleep smoking a cigar. But that seemed like at least a week ago.
This was the first time I had seen someone I knew in a dream. It scared me a little, almost like a power I didn’t know how to control. I wondered how many other times I could have prevented the fate of the subjects of my nightmares, and simply failed to see how.
The warm air seemed too thick, I felt like I was breathing fog. The dense heat seemed to be making my breathing difficult. I looked up at the nearest house, relived to see I was almost home at last. I wanted to go straight to bed, but I had already avoided my mother’s breakfast, there was no getting out of dinner too. I hurried in, poked Jake as I ran upstairs to my room. Jake simply yelled to mom that I was home.
Shortly after mom entered the room. “How was school? Anything exciting happen?”
I thought about trying to tell her about my dreams again, but fearing that she would dismiss it again, I decided against it. “Well we have an assignment due in English on Jane Austen that we are to work on in partners. So I am working with this girl named Lauren. She doesn’t live too far from here. Maybe you know her parents.”
She was looking into my face, but I continued to look down and play with a tie on the quilt my grandmother had made for me. “Her last name is Robertson or Roberson, and she lives just over on Lilac Lane.” I pretended to notice dirty laundry and got up to clean my room. My mom has this penetrating glare, almost like she is willing you to tell her your darkest secrets. I have luckily learned to avoid looking at her, and she has learned when to back off. “So what’s for dinner? I am starving.” I lied, but it would change the subject, and divert her stare.
“Chicken Enchiladas, I better go check them before they burn. Dinner should be ready in about 5.” And with that she was gone.
I laid back down on my bed trying to think of all the other dreams I have had in the past, focusing on the people. There was a blonde lady about 40 who had been shot at the convienence store where she worked. Then the man, older, he had been in the hospital for sometime though. She recalled the house fire once more and crept downstairs where her father kept the newspaper he was finished reading. She pulled out the section with obituaries and scanned them for any familiar faces. To her mild relief she didn’t see any. So she went into the kitchen to eat.
Dinner was uneventful, but seemed to be taking much longer than usual. “So Jake, anything interesting happen to you at school today?” mom attempted to start a conversation.
I tuned out, thinking about who I would dream about tonight. I was mixed up about it a little. On one hand, if I knew them, would there be another chance to save them? But if I didn’t know them, it made it easier to just let it happen.
“Cici? Something on your mind?” My dad always asked with concern, but I knew he could never do anything about it. Mom however would find a way to get involved if she set her mind to it. It was the believing me part I knew she would have a hard time with.
“No I am just tired?” I lied, it was actually the first time in recent years I really felt wide awake.
“Is your homework finished?” mom had to chime in; she always was the more responsible one.
“Yep, I finished it at Laurens house remember?” Lie number two.
I finished eating and hurried up to my room, got ready for bed, but just laid there, awake starring at the ceiling, willing myself to fall asleep. It was the first time sleep didn’t come easily for me, so I tried once again to recall as many people I had dreamt about over the last few months.
The night’s dreams where somewhat uneventful once again. It was a sterile white room. My first thought was heaven, until I heard the monitors beeping in the corner. There was a middle age women lying still in the middle, it was her body that was controlling the beeping of the monitors. There were people around her, an older man with graying hair, but still fairly handsome, sat close at her side holding her hand, talking to her gently. Further back a young lady wiped her saltwater stained face with a paper tissue, her nose and eyes red and irritated, she patted the young man next to her, holding him close, not saying a word. The young man was trying to be tough, but you could see the strain as he fought back the tears that wouldn’t come.
I awoke envisioning the woman in the bed, I wanted a clear picture in my mind so I could find her, knowing I would not be able to save her, it was a medical issue, not an accident, and I was not a doctor.
I showered, dressed in my gym clothes and went down to breakfast. I ate slowly glancing at the newspaper sections as dad discarded them. I snatched up the obituaries, and looked casually for the familiar face. Then realized it was far too soon. She may not have even passed away yet.
“What would I have to do to be a candy striper?” perhaps if I was right there in the hospital I would be able to do something to help people I see. Mom was looking at me strange, “I heard it looks good on college applications” I quickly added. She always was looking out for my college education, and was impressed when I was too.
“What’s a candy striper?” Jake looked like he was hiding something, he only ever seemed interested when he was trying to distract from something he was doing wrong.
“A volunteer to talk to patients and help people who are in the hospital for long periods of time.” She answered Jake looking at me the whole time; it was that stare of hers at work. “So what made you consider doing that?”
“I just thought it would be something to do after school, my homework load isn’t too bad here, and I thought this would be a good chance to look at a medical career.” I concentrated on quickly finishing my breakfast and getting out of there. I could feel my mother stare all the way to school.