Alley's Dream

She began to dream, a soft, glowing edge around the image her mind conjured up, like bleary-eyed vision or seeing through the fog, a cloud, but it was sunny. Summertime, she thought. There, in an open meadow of daffodils, in a summer dress of white cotton with little red blossoms, stood her mom, laughing at a four-year-old Julia who’d attempted to blow the sprigs from a dandelion with no success. Nearby, off to the right and out of sight of her dream eyes, she knew she sat, seven-years-old, holding onto the hand of a two-year-old Sean who wanted to run down the hill toward Mike, walking toward them with a picnic basket.

The scene was one she’d nearly forgotten, a happy time when they’d been a family. Her heart ached at the sweet smile she saw on Gloria’s fair face, her long, reddish-brown hair curling wildly around her shoulders and flying with every whim of the cool breeze. It was a memory, something long past, but was all to real in dreamland. Alley found herself, not her childhood self on that summer outing, but her now self, the one dreaming on her bedroom floor watching the long ago day like she would a play on a stage, wanting to scream at the happy people in her head. And she tried to. Tried to open her mouth and yell at them, warn them of the horrible day, just a year later, when the smiling woman with the pretty blue eyes would be lost to them forever. Maybe, if she could somehow let them know, let them see what was to come, then maybe she could save the family, cheat fate, and cut the grief off before it could ever begin.

But she couldn’t open her mouth. She couldn’t feel her mouth. Dreams weren’t real, only snapshots of past events, imaginary things the mind created. This was like looking at a home video, and if she could have told them, it would have done no more good than if she’d been yelling at her favorite actors, trying to save them from the trials and tribulations that made the movie entertaining and enjoyable. The difference being, she was a long way from enjoying the dream. A happy memory to be sure, but painful, similar, she guessed, to what it might feel like to have one’s heart slowly removed while the person still lived, breathed, and had conscious thought. Remembering was not something she wanted to do, not when it still hurt. Eight years had done nearly nothing to ease the loss. How does one get over something like this? She didn’t know, couldn’t comprehend.

Alley became aware of a commotion, not really a part of the dream, but there, interfering. She heard someone calling to her, yelling at her to wake up. With a gasp, she jerked awake, sitting up in an instant, nearly knocking Julia over in her haste. Julia grabbed the edge of the bed for balance, glaring at Alley with eyes much like Gloria’s.


“Why are you sleeping on the floor, in the middle of the day?” Julia demanded. Her dimples, always there whether or not she smiled, flashed at Alley.
“I fell asleep,” she mumbled, getting to her feet and closing her book. Julia stood with her. “What time is it?”
“Six.” Julia shrugged out of her coat, tossed it on her bed. She was one of those people who somehow managed to never be organized. Tended to be overly cheerful, too, much to the annoyance of Alley on most days.
“Not the middle of the day, then,” Alley pointed out, setting her book in it’s proper place on the shelf. She liked organization and tidiness.
“Might as well be.” Julia pulled a few books from her backpack which had been sitting on the floor by her bed, and piled them on the “desk.” She sat down to do her homework. Alley smiled. Sean was the only one who gave her a hassle over homework, but that was because Julia secretly enjoyed school, though she’d never admit that to a living soul. That would make her a geek.
“Dad brought you some dinner. Grilled Cheese from Denny’s,” Julia continued, not glancing up from her algebra. “Cold now, and soggy if you microwave it. Yum.”
Alley gave Julia’s short, spiked head a love swat on her way out the door....