Hopelessly Seeking Happiness

Chapter 4: I Had The Strangest Dream...

I was inside my high school; everything was exactly the way it had been since the last day I attended. It was small being as it was an alternative school. I stood there at the entrance, in front of me was the narrow hall leading to the stairs at the end, to my right were the boys restrooms and a teacher restroom, if I moved slightly forward I could see the drinking fountains, to my left were the stairs, in front of the stairs was the desk that belonged to the security's, and next to the security desk was the glass case inside it were all the schools achievements. I found it odd there was no security's at the desk, they usually were there to search your purse or so you could turn in your cell phone. I walked forward to classroom #2, but it was empty, I found no trace of Mr. Aguilar my awesome history teacher. I found that extremely odd, for he never was absent; never, come hail or high water he was at school, teaching us in his own outlandish way. Always the first to arrive and the last one to leave, where was he, where was the "Hi mija." I was so accustomed too? Every day I would be greeted by him as he past me in the halls, but where was he now? I started to get an eerie feeling; I felt my hands begin to shake, what was I doing here, where the hell was everybody? I headed back toward the entrance but found I was inside a classroom, not just any classroom; I was inside the elective classroom, I read the board innately: Art finish drawing self-portrait. I walked to the desk where all the student folders sat; I looked for mine under the 1st/PM sign. There it was, below 'Evelyn Morales', my folder, with my name written in clumsy scrawl: Jazel Spacegirl Vela. I smirked at the 'Spacegirl' part, even back then I knew who I was and what I stood for. I grabbed Evelyn's folder as well as I made my way toward our desk, she had the tendency of being late or absent, but I would always grab her folder just in case. I opened up my folder and took out my drawing pad and started flipping through the pages, at around fifteen pages in I found my self-portrait it was me with my emerald hair, half my face portrayed how I looked on the outside; with my pin-up inspired makeup, my winged liner and my bright red lip. The other half portrayed how I felt on the inside; a walking corpse, mangled and mutilated. I quickly got up from my desk to get some color pencils, I sat back down and continued to work on my drawing, it looked good but I wanted it to look great. I started shadowing the face and adding highlight to my hair. I was lost in this drawing, I was not paying attention to my surroundings, but I could hear the clock tick and tick and tick and tick. The ticking started to grow louder it was becoming a nuisance I could no longer concentrate on my work. I grew anxious and started coloring like a mad man, ruining the whole drawing, I couldn't control my hands they just went on and on, and the ticking went faster and the ticking grew louder. My hands colored and didn't stop, I tried my hardest to get them to stop but I was not in control, I yelled at my brain to get my hands to stop, to take back control, but all in vain, my hands seemed to have a mind of their own. And that damn ticking never ceased. "Stop!" I yelled. "Damn it, Stop it!" "Stop!" I had been yelling for minutes on end, my voice was starting to become hoarse. I felt my chest smother me, convoluting my lungs from working properly. My screams became muffled and tears started to trickle from my eyes, the room started revolving, and everything went black.

I opened my eyes expecting to see the hotel room, expecting to be safe and sound, expecting the strange dream to be over, I looked around and realized I was in fact inside a room, but it wasn't the hotel room. I sawpaintings hung on the walls, they displayed people. I knew these people; there was one with James Dean, River Phoenix, Elvis Presley, Marlon Brando, and Kurt Cobain playing poker with Death. Another displayed a tan skinned man, with a handle bar mustache smoking a cigarette with John Wayne; they both had huge grins on their faces as if sharing some war stories. There was one of Castiel he was sitting on a bench his wings were visible, and he was staring gleefully at a little boy play in the grass, it was like he was watching over him; he was his guardian angel. In another there was this young girl wearing battered clothes in her hands she held two miniature cherubs, around them there were all these monstrosities trying to get ahold of them, the young girls face was audacious ,her eyes told a story, daring those monstrosities to get those cherubs, she would die to protect them. And finally there was one with what seemed to be thousands of mundane people walking toward this building called 'Society', in between these people was someone different. While everyone was colored gray this person was colored green. While everyone walked toward the building, this person stood opposite. The little green person held on to a microphone, and diminutive music notes flew everywhere. This person was trying to get their voice heard, was trying so hard to break free of the crowd, but it seemed no one listened. All these painting held meaning, held some sort of story and I knew each one, for these were my paintings. The men death was playing poker with were all men I admired. The tan skinned man smoking a cigarette with John Wayne was my grandfather; he used to be a big fan of John Wayne when he was alive. The little boy Castiel was watching over was my deceased big brother, whom I never got a chance to meet. The two cherubs the little girl was protecting were my niece and nephew. And that little green person who was so set on being different represented my black sheep. These painting that hung on these walls, walls that surrounded the room I was in, were mine and this was my room. I was inside my room. There was my desk, next to my vanity, there was my day bed resting on top of my floral rug. I was here in the room I had when I still lived at home. It was decorated to make you feel like you just stepped into the 19th century. But what was I doing here? I walked out of my room, "Mami?" I called out; I waited to hear my mother's sweet voice, nothing. "Mami?" I called out again. Nothing. "Mom?" I called out even louder. Again no answer. "Mom are you here!" She wasn't. I walked forward the bathroom was to my right, but it was empty. I opened the door to my left -the laundry room- but it was empty. I took the few steps that lead toward my parent's room, I swung open the door and was shocked to see it was empty, there was no furniture, nothing, and it looked like no one had been in the room in ages. I quickly got out and made my way to my sibling's rooms. "Nicole!" Her room was empty. "Ray!" His room was empty. As a matter of fact the whole damn house was empty. I grew frantic. "Mom! Dad! Nicole! Ray! Where are you! Answer me please!" My voice echoed twice around my abandon home, it rung in my ears, it enfolded my thoughts. "I'm alone." I said aloud so the rest of my body could come to the same conclusion and leave. My mind started to run on terror, "Move!" It yelled at my legs, but my feet were cemented to the floor. My ears pricked up at a faint sound; a door opening. The door from my room, it creaked open ominously and I could hear footsteps come my way. "Run!" yelled my mind, but I couldn't. My blood ran ice cold as a gruff voice called out my name, not only that, it said: "You have come home." I froze in horror, chills electrified my body sending me in shivers, sweat ran down my neck in streams, my heart gave unsystematic palpitations, and my body was to terror stricken to let out a breath. I mustered up every ounce of courage I had in me and ran out the back door. "Come back." I heard the thing call after me. I ran around my house to the front yard and through my parents' bedroom window I could see this beast stare back at me, it beckoned me with its claw like finger. I let out a blood curdling yell. I ran swiftly throughout the neighborhood, everything was abandon; there were no cars, no sign of any human life having been there. I just ran and never once looked back, not even when I heard the sound of footsteps chasing after me, not even when I heard those footsteps multiply. I could hear them repeat something over and over again. I couldn't bring myself to turn around and face the things that were after me. I could feel their bloodlust, I was beyond petrified and all I wanted was to wake up from this never-ending nightmare. "Over here Jazel, its safe here!" far ahead of me was a small boy, he was standing outside one of the houses. He was waving his little arms franticly trying to get my attention. "It's safe over here, come in here!" I heard his squeaky voice yell. I felt a sudden urge to protect this child, why was he by himself in the middle of all the anarchy? Where was his mother? I bolted toward him, "Get inside!" I yelled, but he just stood there waving his tiny arms. I felt my lungs wanting to burst, my heart pumped so fast it was at the edge of combusting, but I wasn't about to lay down for the freaks that were chasing me and I wasn't going to leave that little boy. I did what I always do, I pushed. I pushed my legs to keep going to not buckle in, I pushed my mind to not quit to keep my lungs working and my heart pumping. I wasn't dying today! I saw the door getting closer, but the footsteps grew louder, the muffled word was being repeated, it sounded almost like a chant, I still couldn't make out what they were saying. The little boyheld out his arms for me and I reached as far as I could, each step brought me closer to him, I picked up my pace. I needed to save him; I yearned to have him safe in my arms. Alas only a couple feet further, "I got you baby!" I bellowed as I scooped him up in my arms, I ran with him inside and shut the door behind us, I hysterically locked it. Hot tears streamed down my face, I held on to the little boy with dear life, "It's okay we're safe now." He consoled me. I sobbed louder now, I fell to the floor with him in my arms, and I cradled his body with mine, my arms tighten around him, I wasn't letting go of him, and nobody was going to take him away from me. "There, there, it's alright, no more crying. You're safe now, I'm here now." He had one arm wrapped around my neck and the other was stroking my hair gingerly. I felt a calming sensation pass over me, the tears stopped flowing, and I felt warmth illuminate me. "Yeah we're safe" I muffled out. "We're safe." I gave him one last squeeze before I brought him to up to my face. He was smiling brightly, I had to smile back, it was contagious. He had brown eyes so deep with compassion and they crinkled up when he smiled. He had a messy mop of hair, it was light brown, and it felt velvet when I ran my hand through it. His skin was honey colored, it was smooth to touch; he was around four or five. He was the most beautiful child I had ever seen; he looked so happy and content. Everything that was conspiring outside didn't seem to faze him. His laid-back personality bounced off him, it soothed my tremors.