• Light peeked through the curtains, a stream of particles that lit a path through the semi-dark room, highlighting parts of the form on the bed. Birds chirped, their musical notes ringing with happiness. Sprinklers went off, their short chugging noise sounding over and over before a continuous one came, almost like a type writer. Peoples hushed voices greeted and talked about ‘it’. The over head fan shook sending a typical motel room noise towards my ears. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

    My gray eyes stared up at the ceiling, identifying all the bumps, the rough edges, trying to connect the dots, forming some secret picture that no one else saw. My arms were sprawled outwards; my legs together. I was completely motionless, completely thoughtless, only the rise and fall of my chest and the occasional blink of an eyelash occurring. Thoughts of that nightmare, that horrible, horrible nightmare replayed. Over and over, it went. But a small, relieved smile brushed across my lips. It wasn’t real. I was away. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

    I finally moved; only the slightest movement, just a turn of my head. My eyes settled on the phone lying on the table. No green light blinking. No messages. Why wasn’t she calling? A sudden need for reassurance rushed through me. She’s okay, she’s alright. She’s perfectly safe, in her apartment, waiting for me to call her. I smiled wistfully at the thought and sat up, completely abandoning my stillness. I reached over for the phone, the cold metal sending a startling comfort through me, a relief passing through me that I was awake. I stared at the hand that brought the phone closer. I felt like I was sharing a body, the sense of touch, the ability to hear and see the only things I’m capable of. Everything else was being controlled by a familiar stranger. I was going to check up on her. To prove that everything was normal. Everything was fine.

    Quickly, I scan the list of names. Madelyn, Maria, Mariana, Maritsa. The stranger stops and I stare at the name. The finger hovers over the call button. I want to scream at this body, this familiar stranger, to hurry and push it, but the hesitation remains. The finger slides across the buttons. Push it! I scream. The thumb presses against it gently, slowly applying pressure. Almost…

    A knock on the door sounds. The phone drops to the bed and suddenly, I’m pulled back into being the one in charge. The familiar stranger fled to a far part of my conscious. I know she’ll be back. The door knob turns and a woman peeks in. Wrinkles outline her red, irritated eyes, along with dark circles. She looked worn, old, and fragile. She didn’t look like that before I went to sleep yesterday. She smiles weakly, though tears fill her eyes and the hand on the handle trembles. Relief floods her face. Worry too. I smile awkwardly back, unsure what to do. What was wrong? Had something happen?

    Honey, she calls me. She asks me if I’m okay. I tell her yes, of course I was. Why not? She breaks down crying. Alarm runs through me, something tugging my memory. The dream. I shake it off, pushing it away. Not now. Standing out of my bed, I let my feet touch the rough rug on the ground. Mother is weeping into her hands, leaning against the door. And yet, I’ve no idea what to do, what to say. I didn’t even know what was wrong. All I could do was stand there, stare, speechless, clueless, and useless.

    The sobs reduce to sniffles, apologizes coming out in hoarse croaks. I nod meekly in response, not daring to ask that one question. What’s wrong? A part of me feared the answer, knew the answer but just wouldn’t let me know. Mother dabs at her eyes, forcing on a smile though worry glimmers in her eyes. She says I should eat, tells me to come downstairs. I nod in response once more. She turns and leaves, not heading towards the stairs. She’s going to her room. My thoughts now befuddle, I leave my plain room, exiting that door I had seen all my life. I go down the halls, down the stairs, down into the kitchen. There’s hushed whispering going on. Curious, I planned to join in. I step into the kitchen completely. Dad spots me and they immediately stop. I forced on a timid smile, gray eyes moving from my dad to my older brother. They both stare at me, their expressions solemn, both aging dramatically over night. My smile slips. What happened? I glance over at the clock, spying the digital numbers. School has already started. We were late. I pointed this out and my brothers eyes widen. Did I say something surprising? Dad told me today I didn’t have to go. I simply shrugged, not bothering to ask. If I ask, I’ll surely get an answer that will tear me apart. And I want everything to be normal. Everything to be fine.

    I go back up to my room, unknown tears lining my eyes. My body knew what was wrong. But I didn’t. And the dream was being reawakened, replaying in my head, though not as realistic feeling as the first time. I laid on my bed, suffering the scene play again, no button to turn it off.