one-hundred-three.

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APRIL 5th, 1994, SEATTLE, WA

          THERE WAS A dream that came to Lindy that night. It could have been classified as a nightmare too, but as she sat up in bed, gasping for air as she had two nights beforehand, she felt an epiphany strike her like lightning in a barren field.

In her dream, she had been standing outside of Kurt's Lake Washington home, a stormy sky threatening heavy rain above her head. She had been confused and looking for shelter, but hesitant to walk inside the house before her, the house where she knew that she was not welcome.

But then Kurt had appeared from behind, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward with a fast jerk. He looked upset, like he was in a rush to get somewhere and Lindy was holding him up.

"Kurt!" Lindy had cried out. Seeing him, even in dream form, was a sort of overwhelming relief. He always looked so perfect in her dreams. The detail of his face was all there, right down to the scruff on his chin and the sharpness of his jawline.

"Come on, let's go," Kurt urged, tugging Lindy along towards the house. He kept looking ahead with determination. Something was awaiting them both inside. 

"But why? You've got to come back with me! Everybody's looking for you! You don't understand!" Lindy resisted, yanking Kurt in the opposite direction. Her dream-mind was telling her that she had to bring Kurt back to her apartment and call everyone to let them know that he had been found. And then she would tell him about the baby, and all would be fine again.

"No, we've got to hide," Kurt objected. He turned around to face Lindy and right before her very eyes, he changed.

The handsome man that she had always known morphed into something completely different, though she had seen this face before as well. It was a face complete with blue lips and waxen skin, drained of color and pale as death. His eyes were sunken, rimmed purple and bloodshot. He was . . . dead. Or he at least, he looked as every bit dead as he stood in front of her, still holding her hand.

Lindy let out a small scream, stumbling backwards. She was reminded of when Kurt had nearly died in her bathroom, brushing close to death as a needle had hung from the vein in his arm leaking blood. 

"Trust me," Kurt said vigorously. "You know. You know. You know."

And then, Kurt fastened his grip tighter on Lindy's hand as the wind picked up and the trees began to bend. He pushed forward, staring ahead with fortitude in his deadened eyes. Lindy did not understand at first as to why Kurt, clearly depleted of life, wanted her to follow him into his house. But then she followed his line of sight.

He wasn't looking at the house. He was focused on the spot above his garage, covered by a pane of windows.

The greenhouse.

Lindy had woken up right after this, in a worse state than she had been in when waking up from the first dream. This one felt like it had very nearly killed her, causing her heart to slam so hard against her chest that it felt like her ribs had been crushed with the pressure of it. 

It wasn't even daylight yet as she sat up in bed, her legs tangled in the mess of sheets. She grabbed her throat, trying to force air out of her closing esophagus. Even in the darkness of her room, everything was coming together and making sense as she recalled the dream vividly. She pictured Kurt's face, hell bent on reaching that greenhouse before anyone could find them. He had not verbally stated that that was where he was going, but Lindy knew without a doubt that it was the place.

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now