Intro: In 2015, I wrote down a dream, which I rarely do. Usually they fade minutes after waking up, but this one stayed with me. Dreams are as real as the reality we share, so I consider this creative nonfiction.
The Dream; March 2015
I detest the color orange. Long ago, Mom had painted the kitchen bright orange and pale yellow. We sat together at the breakfast table. Everything was “nice” until the electrical storm. The lights went out. Again. I looked out the window at the muddy grey landscape and wondered, “For how long?”
Mom started pulling empty jars out of the recycling bag and putting them into the lazy susan. She was making another mess, and we needed order. I wrestled her to the ground. Lightning struck and sparks flew past the window. We screamed too loud to hear the thunder. I hugged her like a child and cried because she had lost her mind.
I was in my old blue car driving up the hill when the lights went out again. The town went pitch black. The lights on the dashboard were all I could see. I pressed the gas pedal down, but the car was stuck. I lifted the door handle, but the door wouldn’t open. I couldn’t unlock the lock and I was trapped. The humidity inside began to force me down into my seat. The pressure was building as if invisible hands were pressing down on my chest. It was smothering me, and I couldn’t fight it.
I think I passed out, but I was uncertain. When I woke up, I was lying on the front lawn of our house, and the blue car was parked in the driveway. The sun was rising in the west as I wiped the drool off the side of my chin.
I went outside through the side door. It was minutes before dusk, and I looked up at the soft greyish blue sky. It’s my favorite time when the sky looks depressed. The planets were visible; translucent pastel orbs lined up in a neat row. I held my hand in front of my face and pretended that Jupiter was resting on my palm. It was strange. They were too close to Earth. My neighbors drifted out of their homes, and my sister joined us. In unison, they pointed and stared at the sky. But I sensed something wrong. All the planets were in alignment except Earth. I ran for the side door, grabbing the doorknob. The ground started to contract and expand. The movement increased as the Earth began to breathe on its own.
People lost their footing. Shouting, they were flung into the air, glided across the sky, then fell away from the Earth. Gravity had stopped working. I held tight to the doorknob as my sister grabbed for me. She caught my free hand by two fingers as the ground shook the bones in my body. I needed two hands to open the door. Her gaze was nervous as her eyes widened. She shouted, “Please don’t…”
I let go. Using both hands, I pulled myself into the house. In the kitchen, Mom was trying to open a window. I hurried to stop her, and our fingertips touched. Abruptly, our bodies were pinned flat to the ceiling, surrounded by broken glasses and dirty dishes, as the earth plummeted from its orbit. The freefall held my face firmly against the door of the orange cabinet. I wish I had stayed outside.
Red Velvet Jones 