Kick Drum Heart

I dreamed I fell of the edge of the earth.

I was flying, at first. The landscape below me was tinted a pale sepia. I saw thick forests race by, follows by plains and rivers. Thin streams spilled into a vast ocean where waves rippled noiselessly. One moment the sky held me, and I saw earth in its perfection– the next, air gave way to pale, lifeless nothing. The water dropped sharply away and I barreled downward, wings and limbs and long streaming hair tangling. My perspective changed, and I saw my own death as it happened, felt spinning, sickening, freefall adrenaline as it affected my body before my eyes.

The edge of the earth had rocks at the bottom.

I woke from darkness into darkness, pulling in deep breaths. Minutes passed before my racing heart slowed.  I wiped a thin sheen of cold sweat from the back of my neck with one hand while the other held up my mass of hair to cool the skin beneath it. I piled my hair atop my head haphazardly and leaned back into my pillows, puzzling. The dream I’d just had was not the only dream that showed me my death like a bad picture reel playing across my brain. It was just one of many, one of many frequent demises laid before my mind within the past month, every night, without fail. Last night, for example, I’d been burned alive. Incinerated. Needless to say, after almost four weeks of this, I was unnerved, befuddled, and not just a little fearful of the unknown doom that lurked before me every night. 

As for my daytime behavior, I’d be come strained, stretched to breaking point. Exhausted, I was snappish and irritable toward anyone and everyone.

I was also insanely curious. What do the dreams signify? I craved an answer.

I sighed in consternation and rolled to my side in bed, fumbling for the cell phone on my bedside table as I did so. I found it and checked the time: 5:49 AM. Damn, then, only eleven more minutes until my day was forced into bright lights and underfilled coffee mugs.

I tried to make the most of the situation by snuggling deeper into my cocoon of blankets and then lying perfectly still, curled up and eyes closed, hoping pointlessly for a deep and peaceful rest to find me.

With the peculiarity of sleep, it did.

I felt warm, cozy, and alive. Comfortable and comforted. I was myself, but wore a smart black dress– a strappy number that hit mid-thigh and left most of my back bare. My hair fell down my back in a cascade of shimmering, smooth gold and elegant black pumps increased the sophistication and appeal of the ensemble. Rather than feeling trashy in such a revealing gown, I felt classy. I strode along a city with narrow streets and shabby grey buildings but didn’t feel out of place in the least. I knew where I was going.

I reached a tall, ornately-carved oak door and knocked once, briskly, using the heavy brass knocker shaped like a rearing griffin with a sword through its heart. It took what felt like five minutes for someone to answer.

When the door finally did open, however, I felt a purely feminine jolt of approval at the sight of a tall young man who appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen. Deeply tanned skin, melted-chocolate eyes and exceptionally toned muscle were made mischievous and intriguing by the instant appearance of a quick and cocky grin. “Hey,” he intoned, a deep bass making my dream-heart pitter-patter. “Come on, Luk’s been waiting for you.”

He turned and led me up two flights of stairs, and proceeded to say, “You look great, by the way.”

As I watched him, I replied honestly, “Ditto.”

We reached a hallway, and then he paused before another oak door. He rapped out a brief “one, a-two-and” with his knuckles, then stepped aside to let me pass as the door was opened from the inside.

A large parlor, decorated in maroon, pale blue, and white with flecks of gold awaited. I was less than impressed with the color scheme, but recognized expensive furniture and accents. I observed a lack of televisions, stereos, and computers before I observed Luk.

In one of three large, comfortable-looking maroon armchairs sat a youth whose looks surpassed my guide’s. Tousled, dark blonde hair looked faintly windswept and a fair, finely-chiseled face turned in my direction. An open, welcoming smile was the last feature I noted before I was plunged into blue. His eyes were electric and I drowned in them. Waves of warmth fizzed pleasantly over my skin and before I was completely aware of it I was standing before him. I reached out my hand, and his grin broadened– he touched his palm to mine and my hand felt on fire–

Then I heard a noise, a buzzing. I was pushed roughly on the shoulder and jostled out of my other world. The sexy black dress was replaced with worn out pajama pants and a t-shirt, the heat in myt hand became an uncomfortable tingling– my head was resting on it and it had lost some circulation. The rough treatment I was receiving was courtesy of my sister, who demanded I get out of bed before she would leave.

“Get out,” I mumbled, turning my back to her.

“Get UP!”

“Leave!” I reiterated, thinking drowsily of Luk and blue eyes.

“Get UP!”

My eyes snapped open at the interruption of my reverie. Fury crept up on me. “Get OUT!” I said, louder. I tossed back my covers and sat up, frustrated with my sister and myself. She scampered out of my room, leaving me in darkness still, for which I was thankful. I heard her say “Mom, she’s cranky today,” as she stalked up the stairs in all of her ten-year-old intolerance for the tired.

I attempted to sink back into the soft mattress for one last time. I’d had a decent dream going, and I hadn’t even died–

I paused. I’d had a decent dream going. I hadn’t perished. The first dream I’d woken up alive in for over four weeks had just taken place. I felt a rush of gratitude for the nameless cute guy and this Luk, whoever he was; I hadn’t died when I was with them, and I’d gotten to wear cute shoes.