It didn’t take me long to fall asleep after Charlie was gone. I was good at that, falling asleep. It once happened while I was standing up in the shower. That’s how it was with me. When my body needed rest, it was very insistent.
So, I fell asleep and had a dream about my father. This didn’t surprise me. I once read that dreams occur because your mind has to reorganize itself when you’re sleeping. So much happens during the day that you need to sort what is important from what is not. Some memories you keep close to the surface and others get buried. I think my mind was just trying to keep the memories of my father close to the top, where they belonged.
The dream started back at our old house on O’Carroll Avenue. It’s right here in town. An old couple lives there now. They have a big RV in the driveway and the TV is always on. I could tell by the way the light changed in the room when I was running past. I thought about stopping to visit them one night so I could tell them I used to live there, and see what it was like to be inside again, but in the end, I just couldn’t do it.
In my dream my dad was cutting the grass. He saw me and stopped.
“Hey, Zack,” he said. His voice always had lots of energy in it. Like talking to me was the highlight of his day. And even though I was fifteen, and big for my age, my father was always a lot taller than me in my dreams. Like I was still a little kid. He reached down and mussed my hair.
“You getting better?” he asked.
“I feel better,” I said. “I feel strong.”
“You look strong,” he said. Then he scooped me up in his arms and asked to see my scars.
I pulled up the right pant leg of my scrubs and revealed the two circles of scar tissue.
My father ran his fingers over them. “They look almost better!” he said.
“They get fainter every year.”
He seemed pleased by this.
And then, just like that, we were inside the house. I was looking out the window at the snow on the tree branches. It must have been Christmas, because my grandparents were there, and so were Charlie and his dad. I called him Uncle Jake, even though he wasn’t my real uncle.
I had lots of gifts to open, but I never got to because my father was suddenly missing. I looked around and caught a glimpse of his pant legs disappearing up the stairs. I ran after him and opened the door to his room, only when I got there it wasn’t his room any more, it was an old Roman city. Right in the middle of it was his desk. He was writing in the journal he always kept. He looked at me for a few seconds. Then he closed his journal and stood.
I didn’t want him to leave. I started to shake my head.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said. “You’re not alone.”
He waved me over to give me a hug, but the instant I moved towards him he froze. Then he started shouting at me.
“Get away! Run! Run!”
He was gone a second later. Buried in dust and wood and old square stones. I moved closer and looked down into the shadows. Two red eyes were staring back at me. Even though I knew the danger, I couldn’t help myself. I had to move closer. And I knew what was going to happen. The shadow darted out on four legs, swift as thought, and bit me hard above the ankle. The pain was very real. When I woke up it was still hurting. And my father’s words were loud in my ears.
“Run!”
Maybe I should have. Because there was a man in my room staring at me.