Awake the Dream: Part 4

As I ripped through my closet, slinging clothes behind me toward my bed, I tried to settle my mind and think logically.

I knew a few things:

1.) There were soldiers in town,

2.) these soldiers had killed at least one person, that I was 100 percent sure of, whom hadn’t appeared to do anything antagonistic,

3.) and that I didn’t feel safe in the least here in my own house.

And there were a few things that I wasn’t sure of:

1.) I may or may not have lost three of my best friends, friends who I had survived through so much with,

2.) there could very well be more soldiers on their way toward our general direction,

3.) and I had no idea where my family was going to go now.

Then I caught hold of something, a blanket.  I slowed down for a moment and pulled it out from my closet shelf.  When I tugged at the end of it, it unfolded in sections, the end falling down onto the floor.  I pulled it close and wrapped my shoulders in its touch.  It was a Hispanic styled cloth, with alternating yellow, orange, and red patterns.  A mixture of triangles and squares.  It was the same temperature as any other object, but it sent a wave of warmth over me in this time of fear.  It covered me, like a savior from all of this confusion that was threatening to engulf me. 

I sat in its encompassment and let myself remember.  This was the blanket my mother gave to me on my eighteenth birthday.  A little more than four and a half years had passed since, and I had forgotten all about it and the events surrounding it.  I had come home for the week to spend some time with my family and friends here at home, even though I was missing my Thursday and Friday classes at University.  I was already asleep, but my mother came into my room the night of my birthday and placed a plastic bag on the foot of my bed.  I remember making some sort of grunting noise as I rolled over in bed to face her.  I was kind of irritated that she woke me up so late, but once I saw the bag and realized that it must have some sort of present in it, that annoyed feeling disappeared. 

She simply said, “here’s something for your birthday. Good night”, before turning off the light and walking out into the hall.  I felt my way through the darkness down my covers until I heard the crinkle of the plastic.  Blindly, I reached into the bag and felt soft fabric against my finger tips.  It felt extremely supple and silky in my grasp.  I drug the contents of the bag out and felt around the cloth’s edges till I reach the tags, which I quickly yanked off and dropped in my bedside trashcan. 

Even though I couldn’t see it yet, I knew it must look as good as it felt.  Then I pulled it up around me and fell asleep with it wrapped around my body.  It wasn’t until the next morning till I matched the colors and designs to the texture I had fallen asleep with.  With the light of the morning pouring into my room I lifted the blanket up to see it’s crisscrossing designs of geometric shapes and interwoven colors, from golden amber to crimson red.  It shimmered like fire when it moved in my grip. The colors dancing like flame in-between shadow and morning light. 

The sound of a car’s tires rushing against gravel shook me from my revelry back into the here and now.

I jumped up from the hardwood floor and placed the blanket on the foot of my bed.  I walked over to the window and looked out across my lawn.  My heart stopped.  There was a gray and black camouflaged military vehicle driving up the street.  I jumped to the first and most painful conclusion I could imagine: they missed me in town, so they are coming to finish me off.

I ran out into the hallway, I hadn’t even taken twenty steps and I felt like I was going to hyperventilate.  I don’t wanna freaking die, not now.  “Sydney!” I yelled, “Sydney! Dad!”

“What?” my dad answered.

“Let’s go now!”

“Me and your sister haven’t even started packing”. Dad stepped out of his bedroom at the opposite end of the hall.

“Grab some clothes and let’s go please. We just need to get out of here now!” I walked to the kitchen and while standing by the marble island countertop. From there, I could see out the front window a pair of soldiers armed with some sizable guns get out of the vehicle begin heading to the house diagonal across the street from ours.  My eyes were open so wide it felt like my eyelids were going to rip at the corners.  Then a door creaked open, the sudden sound nearly making me scream. 

But then Sydney stepped in from the back door with a plate of food, “What?”

“Damn it! I thought you were one of those friggin soldiers!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just go get some of your clothes packed”.  Realizing that something was intensely amiss, Sydney stopped questioning and began towards her room, setting the plate down on the counter.  I went back to my room and grabbed up the blanket and stuffed it into the top of my duffle bag.  I was trying to get it zipped as quickly as I could but I had stuffed too much in the bag and the blanket continually got caught in the lining of the zipper. My hands were shaking too much for me to properly close the bag either.

I heard a knock at one of the doors. “I’ll get it” Sydney said, I could hear her quick footsteps out of her bedroom. 

“No Sydney! Stop!” I dropped the bag onto the floor and tried to catch her before she rounded the corner to the door.

            But it was too late. Movies show intense moments like this in slow motion, but this wasn’t like that at all.  It was going so fast, too fast, and I couldn’t stop it.  I heard the door handle turn, the click, then the sound of suction as the door pulled open.  And then the gunshot cut through everything else.

My eyes opened. My heart racing.