Twisted Dreams

🟨 Slow Down

(***A real dream sent to me by a friend, edited and formatted for this collection.***)

It began in the darkness of my mother's closet, as I stepped towards the lowest end of the slanted ceiling. The tile was pushed open ever so slightly, revealing pitch-blackness on the other side.

I spoke to myself, half-hoping to receive a response, "I'm glad this place isn't haunted."

A woman's laughter sounded out, and I froze.

After a while, the woman and I became acquainted, and we conversed for hours, but about what I cannot remember. I do know, however, that she towered at nine feet tall, and that her silky hair seemed to flow into her sweeping black dress.

She led me outside, to a foggy place on the top of a grassy hill. On my right lay a white wooden bench, towards which people began drifting. One of them, I recognized as my father.

Our eyes locked, and the tall woman spoke again: "It is time to forgive." At that, my father and I hugged tightly, tears streaming down our faces.

The scene melted away, revealing instead the guest bedroom of my grandmother's home. The lights were out, and I knew it was the middle of the night. My grandmother entered the room, realizing my mother had forgotten to come get me and take me home.

She volunteered to drive me home herself, so we made our way all the way down the property to where my grandfather kept his green truck. My foot caught, and I slipped in a muddy puddle. As I straightened, something in my mind told me to go no further; but I continued onwards, putting my trust in my grandmother.

We began driving down the dark, shadowy road, and it was only then that I realized something was clearly off: she was drunk.

The truck swerved in the road and, my heart pounding, I whispered loudly, "Please slow down." A moment later, we careened into a tree, the sound and smell of rubber screeching filled the nighttime air, and at last, everything was dark.