At this moment, I am asleep. With eyes flitting back and forth beneath eyelids, I dream. I dream mostly good things, mostly things that aren’t worth remembering. Not tonight, this one I will remember. I am conscious in this dream, Maddie is there too. Though I don’t know why, I find a little girl in my abstract dream world as well. Setting the room in my mind, I attempt to store the memory. A room lay almost bare.
Maddie sits cross legged in the corner of the room playing with the child. To whom this child belongs, I do not know. I lie long ways on an overused, black and grey, patchwork sofa. The wall is, at varying intervals, adorned with rips and tears of the drywall revealing the brown underneath. Because of the differences in color white, around the trim, the window looks to be painted closed. Boxes line the wall. I look at them with disgust knowing that I have to put all of the shit away. Kids playing baseball outside scream, shout, and run away as a baseball bat crashes through my window leaving glass littered over the hodgepodge piss-yellow carpet.
“Skye come with Mommy, Mike throw a fit,” Maddie says lifting the small child from her yellow well used Tonka truck to take her to the next room. Did I remember to note that the doors were the ugliest overcooked orange color ever? Maddie and Skye dissipate into one of the open doors.
Lethargically getting off the couch, I mumble, “Fuck It,” and tape a trash bag over the window storing the baseball bat in the closet. Looking through the dingy cardboard boxes we had stolen from one too many garbage dumpsters, I begin to empty them. As I pile the unorganized items into neat little groupings according to which room they belong: eating and cooking utensils over there, Blankets and towels around here, books and movies at the wall, as well as knickknacks and décor on the counter through the kitchen, kids outside the door begin making a ruckus with their baseball game again. Lazily shaking my head and rubbing my eyes I meander towards the ugly door and open it. Outside, the children scream and run off splashing big puddles of red muck fading into the red veined and grey distance. Confused, I walk through the strangest weird gunk—burning the image of oil textured goop and soft serrated ground into my memory—leaving no footprints underneath the red liquid. Maddie appears back at the front door holding Skye.
“Where are you going?”
“To figure out where I am, gorgeous,” is all I can reply.
“You’re home, goofball. Come back inside,” she says.
I continue forward anyway. The strange onslaught of emotions that overtook me was overwhelming. The ground began trembling underneath my feet as if I had irritated it. Then, all at once, the room, Maddie, little Skye, and myself is lifted towards the morose sky and is dumped into a new reality.
I am alone. Staring up at the rear end, the ass end, of an elephant. “There’s a room in the elephant,” I muttered. I was pooped and alone.
Time for my coffee, then off to class.
I wrote a paper once on dreams; it was twenty pages long and never revealed to me why I cannot remember a single one of them. Professor Lucht, who reminded me of Dumbo, didn’t have anything to add to my predicament in dream world. I gather I should just deal the hand I play. It was an A paper too.