by Charie Dawn
I saw him in-between passing cars before I stepped inside the bus. After that, I saw him in my dreams. At first he would be splashing through puddles of rainbows. Sometimes he’d be sitting on a park bench while I would be spying on him through binoculars. Another time he was sitting beside me in a classroom, his seat pushed right up to mine. Other times he’d just be there. Floating. I’d pass by him while running away from little children with dog heads. Or he’d pass by me while I’d be trapped in the clasps of a man with a chainsaw. The latter, he would just look my way and all of a sudden I’d be somewhere else.
I don’t know why I dreamt of him so often but I did. And I never saw his face in detail. It was always just an outline. The contours of his face. It wasn’t until second semester of school started that I saw him again. In blood and flesh.
He was walking up the front steps when my mom dropped me off one day. His back was turned towards me so I didn’t see his face but I knew it was him. He’d been in my dreams so many times that I just recognized him immediately, without a doubt.
1 comment:
Very intriguing. You captured my imagination, making me wonder who, how, and why. Your visuals of chainsaws and dog-headed children were striking.
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