I woke up this morning to the sound of my alarm clock, charming like church bells when it strikes noon. I open my eyes; it’s bright from the early morning sun gleaming through the cracks of my blinds, bouncing off the four walls. As I lay in my bed thinking about today’s chores, they run through my head like a batter just hitting a home run. I finally motivate myself enough to walk down a flight of stairs that feels like a lifetime to go down. A silence breaks through the dusty air that I feel is choking me with every breath I take. No one is home, I’m all alone. Downstairs in the living room, it is quite.
The curtains block the sun from hitting my eyes. I sit in a wooden rocking chair, set by the window. I’m able to watch the wind catch the leaves off the tall maple tree planted in my front yard. My mind begins to generate a story, and it all starts here. I prepare myself by letting my mind run free, like a bird being released in the jungle. Able to fly free, enjoying the blue open skies and the sounds of other animals surrounding. I felt refreshed, like it was a new story I’ve never heard before. My life is very structured. I have a daily routine for each day of the week.
I have no change, no worries but I know that someday I will be out of place. Where will that place be? Where will it bring me? I asked myself many questions, making myself feel like I’m being interrogated in a small dark corner of a room. I scare myself back to reality, but I don’t think reality is where I want to be. What is reality exactly? Do we live it every day? I can’t possibly be drifting back into a make believe story, but yes this is where I want to be. In this story, the one I’ve never heard before I suddenly realize that I am the one telling it, I am the one that is writing it.
This story feels so real; it feels like one of those novelties you pick up at the bookstore and start reading. You end up buying it because every time you turn the page you want to read more. The more I think there is no story at all. This could be a dream, but what am I dreaming about? I see this beginning to end strange. It was like an awkward silence between two people when they first meet. It is very possible there is no ending. Maybe it is just the beginning. I seemed to have drifted off deep. I’m starting to see a new light. This time it is not so bright as the suns beams. The more light I am seeing, a smile appears on my face.
The first time on so long, I had a smile that looked to be real. A porcelain doll, the smile is pretty with pink flushed lips and teeth white as snow. What am I seeing? What is making me feel this way? The light begins to fade. I see people I have never seen before, but they know my name. They greet me one by one shaking my hand that feels wet on cold from the nerves in my body. Who are these people? It looks like a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and flowers are blooming. I feel happy, I feel like I’m famous. When people cheer for you and take pictures, it’s like the red carpet is just for me.
Where does this carpet lead me? It looks so long, but shortly I get to the end. There are three doors that appear in front of me. One to my left, one straight ahead of me and one to my right. The crowd tells me to choose a door. I’m scared, not sure what the doors are for. I want out of this story, this impossible dream I am having. But I’m not sure if I want to leave this happy feeling. The best feeling I have ever had. I begin to hear the church bells again, wondering where they are coming from, I look around at the people, and they are beginning to fade like they were shadows standing in front of the light.
I begin to panic. My fingers start to twitch, and my hands and face begin to sweat. I begin to really wonder where I am. I open my eyes like an owl spotting its prey amongst the ground. I look around, and I roll to my side. It’s 9:00AM. I lay in my bed wondering what the hell happened. Was it a dream, or was it my future? Like deja vu. I run down the stairs that only had three steps. I wander into the living room, and my 5 year old brother with blonde hair and blue eyes, is playing on the floor with mini Tonka trucks. In the kitchen is my mother cooking breakfast.
Outside there are clouds and rain on the ground. I look at my father who is sitting quietly in the wooden rocking chair, the same chair that I was just sitting in. I stop and look at all of my surroundings. This seems like the same place I was just in five minutes ago. I sit in the couch that has mini scratch marks in it from the two dogs jumping on the pillows that I sat upon. I get scared and panic. Again I start to sweat and my face turns red, like a light that sits on top of the fire truck when it rushes to a burning house. I can’t quite figure out why I saw what I saw.
It must have been a dream, at least which is what I thought it was. I sat there thinking I will never really figure out what I was trying to get at. But this was no ordinary dream. See, two weeks later I entered a room at a function I attended. Everyone knew my name, I wasn’t all too sure who they were. And there were three things that I stood in front of me. My future, my present and my past. I was an intervention. I was in a place where people gathered to push me on the right direction. But I was the only one that could make that decision. Where did I want to go? That I will never know.