Ecstasy- Rapper imagines

Ghost Dreams- Polo G

"18 year old student, Taurus Tremani Bartlett, also known by his rap name Polo G was shot and killed last night in a drive by," the tv reporter says. "Here's Bill, at the scene of the crime."

"Yes thank you. I'm Bill Mathews, with ABC Chicago news, here at Maggie Daley Park where a young teen was shot and killed. Officer says that Bartlett was walking to meet up with his friend group when a black suv sped by and took his life. Prayers are going out to his family, and the police have their eyes out for the Vehicle."

"If you have any information on this vehicle," bill states as a picture of a familiar truck pops up on the screen. "Please call this number. The call will remain anonymous and confidential within the police force. Thank you."

"That is so sad," my mother says, turning off the television. "That poor boy. His family. He went to school with you didn't he?"

I nod my head. Polo was a well known thug, but barely talked to anybody. His group was small but his bank was big. I never knew him and I didn't want to. The streets are not for me and they never will be. My ma is right, it is sad. But out here in Chi? That shit is inevitable. We didn't wanna say anything but we all knew something would happen to him. Just like how something happened to everybody else and is gonna happen to all the others.

It's streets, jail or the grave the moment you graduate- and just like polo, even before then.

"It coulda been your brother," she tells me, picking up her phone to go call my aunt. They always 'sharing stories' as my mother calls it. My mother and Auntie Pu are the definitions of gossip girls. No secrets kept around here. If she know, my moms know. If my mama know, she know. It gets annoying.

"It coulda been anybody," I say, fixing the pillows on the couch and standing up. "I'm going to sleep, ma, I love you."

"I love you too. Do me a favor and text your bothers to be careful. We don't need a part two of that lil boy."

"Yes ma'am," I say, walking up the stairs and texting Malik and Malcom. They respond with a simple 'okay princess' and 'i gotchu baby girl'. I say I love you and shut my phone off, throwing it on the bed.

I take my clothes off and hop in and out the shower. I am way too tired for all this shit. I put my phone on the charger and lay down, closing my eyes.

"Dear OG," I start my prayer. "Forgive me for Al my sins and thank you for this day and helping me make it to the nighttime. Please watch over my brothers with their knuckleheaded selves. And be with Polo's family. I hope he made it to you. If there's any way I can help, show me Lord. Anyways, goodnight. I love you King. Amen."

My eyes begin to get heavy and I drift off to sleep.

"Yo shawty," I hear a boy say. I turn around confused. Where the hell am I?

"Who are you? Where the hell am I?"

"You sleep, I think," he responds. It's darks so I can barely see him. I can barely see anything. "I'm polo."

"Polo," I repeat thinking of the dude that just died. This is a dream and I'm just dreaming about him because I just saw him on tv. That's all this is.

"You that girl with them crazy ass brothers from school," he says with a chuckle. "They ain't in this dream witchu right?"

I hope they are. My brothers were the most protective boys in school. They were like my body guards. I was so happy when the my graduated, because I got freedom. But that's when boys started to flirt. And get touchy.  And harass me. So I wanted them to come back. But they couldn't.

"I don't think so," I respond, trying to see if it's really Polo.

"Why yo dreams so dark," he asks, coming closer to me. "You going through something or you just emo?"

"I don't know," I respond, seeing his dreads and the tattoo that looked like the one on his picture.

"I thought that sharing dreams shit only happened on tv," he says. "You been thinking about me or something? Cuz ion even be thinking about you like that. You cast some kinda spell or some shit?"

"No," I say, confused. It seems like I'm fully conscious. I can move how I want and say what I want. I thought you weren't supposed to have control in your dreams.

"Then why I'm in here," he says, looking around.  "Do me a favor, shawty. Pinch me."

I look at up at him. Is this man dumb? This dream is weird as hell.

"Man, what you scared fo? Not like I'm a ghost or something," he says, grabbing my arm. I use my fingers to pinch him gently. "Baby ass pinch. Try again."

I pinch him again, harder this time like I would do Malik when we were kids.

"Aaacht," he says, pulling his arm back. He looks around at his body and his surroundings. I can't see much I can just see his head move around. "Man I'm still here."

Duh, this is my dream, not yours. You're dead.

"Lemme try you," he says and I push my arm towards him.

"Ouch," I yell out as he pinches me. I smack his hand away.

"My bad," he responds, rubbing my arm gently. "Better?"

I nod my head. I know this nigga did not just baby me talking about some 'better?'

"You feel any different?"

"No," I respond, and then suddenly I feel a jolt. Everything is dark. "Polo?"

I call his name out a few times and nobody answers.

"Open ya eyes," a voice says. It's Malik, standing over me. I look around and I'm in my room. It's just 2 am.

"Hey," I say, pulling him into a hug.

"Hey baby girl," he responds pulling back. "What you dreaming about polo for?"

"I guess it was because I saw him on the news. It was just a dream tho," I explain and he nods.

"You look like you barely slept tho," he touches my face. "Mama said you went to bed at 11 and yo breath don't even stank."

I smack his arm. I feel like I didn't even go to sleep. I feel exhausted.

"You wanna go pass by his mom's house and then get some ice cream?"

"Who's mom?"

"Polo."

"You knew him?"

"That was my boy, even though he called me crazy. Almost beat his ass when he told me he thought you were cute," he chuckles.

"He was so young," I say, touching Malik's face.

"If I woulda known he was gonna die I woulda let him date you," he jokes. "I wouldn't be the one to kill him."

"That's not even funny Lik," I say, smacking his arm.

"Nigga up there laughing with me, chill out," he tells me. "You coming or not?"

"I guess. I better get a gallon of ice cream to
myself too," I respond, getting out of bed.

I hope I never dream of him ever again.

Prt 2? Or should I make it a book like I planned?