Chapter Two
I felt better after I sipped on my cola and read my book. My feet relaxed in front of me and my stomach settled down. The plane was crammed with people. Thank goodness daddy had claustrophobia because a great benefit to traveling with him was his insistence on flying first class. I loved the special treatment, the spacious seats, the better food, and the free everything. If we fly overseas, we get free pajamas and slippers. The stewardess handed out drinks while everyone else boarded the plane. A cola settled my stomach nicely. I sat exactly where I wanted, which was as far from my parents as possible. It made me sick to watch them cuddle like two lovebirds. I noticed daddy didn’t have anxiety about flying to Texas.
When he was a child, his friends locked him in a tiny closet as a joke. Since then, my poor father has been afraid of small spaces. I don’t understand how a plane compares to a tiny closet, but daddy tried to fly regular class when we went to Maine for spring break. I was glad we picked a short trip. The plane was so tiny, daddy wanted to jumped from the plane.
I looked around while the stewardesses made drinks and handed out snacks. Dinner would be served later. I didn’t want to talk to anyone so I put in my ear buds and enjoyed the silence. They never left my ears the entire trip. I watched the ground move under the plane as we prepared for takeoff. I knew this was my last chance to execute plan b, which was to throw a huge temper tantrum and get us kicked off the plane. We would be forced to drive to Texas and there was no way my parents were going to do that. Every second that went by, I knew plan b was a stupid idea. My body deflated while I let my breath, and plan b, go.
I looked at my parents as the plane flew high into the sky. I noticed they had their heads together and spoke of their excitement about going to mom’s hometown. They appeared like two old people trying to regain their lost youth. When will they realize they will never be young again so they should get over it? My thoughts turned red as I looked outside. The beautiful New York skyline was a sight to see. I looked everywhere below as memories flooded my mind. Tears zigzagged down my face as I relived every second in New York with my friends. My anger threatened to boil when I looked back at my parents. They were making a toast together. I heard their glasses clink and I shut my eyes. They never looked at me or came to see if I was okay. I wanted some space, but not enough that they ignore me. I turned on my music and set the volume loud. I droned out their stupid teenage excitement about seeing my mom’s high school and the places she hung out. My wet eyes threatened to close after so many days without sleep. Now that I was on the plane, I knew life would carry me to my destiny like a leaf in the river. After the airplane disappeared into the clouds, somewhere between my anger and rage, I fell asleep.
I sat on a school bus. It was nighttime, which was a pretty odd time of day to be going home from school. I looked around and noticed the familiar surroundings. We were driving in the country, on a lone gravel road. Renee and Jane sat in the back talking about something.
“Hey guys!” I said.
“Regina, you didn’t get off at your stop?” Jane asked with concern.
“I guess not. I think I fell asleep. What are you guys up to?” I asked as I got up and sat in the seat in front of them.
They did not answer me. Jane and Renee looked out the window in a daze. I looked out the bus window and felt connected with the scenes outside. I gazed at the mobile homes and trucks as we drove by them. My vision was captured by the livestock of cows, sheep, pigs, goats, and horses. Sometimes, a deer ran by us. We passed large bales of hay, lakes, and little ponds with tiny docks. I had never seen so much of the country. I am a born and bred New York City girl so this was something I was in awe of.
While I was in rapture with the scenery, Jane and Renee got off the bus. I looked up after a few minutes and they were gone. Their book bags and any trace of them were gone. I was confused because I did not feel the bus stop for them.
Before I could think any more of it, I looked out the window again and saw the familiar Fort Knox style house as we passed by it. The house was made of dark bricks with a ten-foot-high brick fence surrounding the property. Its massive roof peeked out, over the top of the wall. The bus took a sharp curve and slowed down. Ahead of us, a fog rolled towards the bus. Before I could worry the driver would go through it, the bus turned to the left and away from the fog. I let out a breath of relief.
The bus stopped and I got off. I felt happy that I made it to my destination. The bus drove away as I realized that I had no idea where I was. The tree line indicated a forest was fifty feet away. A deserted house stood in the distance. The overgrown grass swayed with the wind. I felt nervous and stupid. Why did I get off the bus? I looked everywhere for a street sign or someone who could help me. Panic made my breath come faster and the night grew cold. I hugged my shirt close to me to keep warm. As I stood there, I felt someone watching me. My eyes searched the dark tree line and scanned the road for signs of a person. I could not see anyone. It was so cold now. Someone was here, I felt it. Was I supposed to meet someone here? It could not be Jane or Renee. They would have gotten off the bus with me.
I shivered as I tried to remember. My life depended on it. Snow fell from the sky like someone was shaking it hard on the world. If only I could remember! I think it was a man and…
I woke with a soft start and groaned with pain. My back was killing me! After my forth birthday, I noticed a horrible pain in my shoulders. Unfortunately, the pain never went away. If I stayed in one place for too long, my shoulders stiffened up, and I would be in an enormous amount of pain for a while. I wondered where we were when I realized I ached from the stupid airplane seat. I must’ve fallen asleep. I hoped we weren’t near Austin! I was about to freak out again. I had not mentally prepared myself to get off the plane yet. I needed a few more minutes to deal with this whole getting off the plane idea.
“Don’t worry sweetie, we still have an hour till we land,” mom whispered gently.
I looked over at my mom and saw her sweet smile. Her golden blonde hair reminded me of Sleeping Beauty. Her brown eyes were full of love as she smiled at me, but not easy to see was her pain. Those eyes held lots of tears and pain she refused to show. Her petite body looked strong, but was about to break. After all, her mother just died.
“Thanks, mom,” I replied.
The funeral notice for my grandmother, Lydia Underwood arrived by email two days ago. Mom cried for hours and would not talk to anyone except daddy. They stayed in their room for the whole night, talking and planning. I didn’t care to know what they discussed because I didn’t think their plans affected me. I figured mom and dad would leave me in New York while they went to the funeral. The whole thing would take three to five days, and mom would cry for a while, but she would be okay. I would definitely be there for her anytime she needed me. After all, she never talked about her mother or showed she cared. Things should be back to normal soon.
I smiled at my mom and gave her a nod. Daddy was fast asleep, his head on her shoulder. They must have moved seats when they finally realized I sat so far away. Maybe this trip would be good for them, like daddy said. They needed time together to have some romance. The last thing my parents have had in these past years is romance. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.
My dream journal was in my carryon bag and I reached down to grab it. I’ve been writing in it for five years now. It practically jumped out at me when I saw it in the bookstore. Back then, it was a brand new green leather book with crisp golden pages. Now, it was a beaten up darkened thing with yellowed pages. I wanted to record my dream.
Dear Diary, I had another dream. This time it was on the ‘lone country road’. Same as always, I was on a bus with Jane and Renee. It was night and I was fascinated with the country setting…
I stopped writing and closed the journal. I needed a minute to think. I ordered another cola from the stewardess and sipped on it. The sky was amazing at night. I couldn’t see the stars too well, but the darkness reminded me of a scary movie. I opened my journal to the first page and read the first entry. My younger handwriting was messy, but easy to read.
Dear Diary. Is that what I’m supposed to write? Or is it, Dear Journal? Hmm… I suppose it doesn’t matter. I bought this journal to help me keep track of my dream, so I hope I won’t be writing in it much. I haven’t told anyone about my dreams. Everything began when I was around five years old. I didn’t take much notice to them at first, but now I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched and manipulated in my everyday movements. Maybe those books are right and my dreams are only images of things we see every day. I’m not sure, so this journal is going to hold my dreams.
Anyway, my dreams started with a house. A big, beautiful house that I will run away from, screaming in horror, if I ever step into! I don’t know what the downstairs looks like, but it is the upstairs and backyard where my dreams occur. Then, my dreams included these long, dark, and isolated roads. I assume the dreams take place outside of the city because there’s lots of trees, grass, livestock, and no one for miles. Plus, the oddest occurrences have happened with my boyfriend Jeff. I used to feel sweet to him; want to do things to show him how much I love him. Now, I find any reason to fight and push him away. But, I feel that something out there is happy for our fights and pushes me to do it. I swear I’m not crazy! I just feel this pull.
Let me start from the beginning, a long time ago I started dreaming of a house. I don’t know where it’s located, but I will never forget it. The upstairs is open with large windows running along the wall that faces the backyard. The room has wood paneling and feels like a cabin. The backyard is large and open. It is enclosed by a long line of pine and oak trees. The woods. I feel that something is there. It’s coming for me. The house won’t protect me, in fact, it feels as if the house is an intricate part of someone else’s plan. What plan that is, I have no idea, but my dreams return to the house consistently. I can be driving down a country road and pull into my “home”. Then my dreams go crazy. There’s an explosion, I’m running from something, trying to hide from it. I usually end up at the house. I look out the large windows and feel that something horrible is coming for me. Maybe it’s searching for me right now?
I paused. Reading the first entry was fascinating and a little frightening. When I started this journal, I wanted to keep track of my reoccurring dreams. Not every dream was the same, but the ones with the house, roads, and mirrors were. I felt something chasing me every time I dreamed. I continued reading.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now descending into Austin, Texas. Temperature is a warm ninety-seven degrees with clear skies…” He went on, but I stopped listening.
“Great, I’m literally in Hell.” I muttered with a mad giggle. I locked my journal and put it back in my bag. My worst fear was someone would find my journal and read it. Or worse, I actually find the house of my nightmares. Thank goodness they were only nightmares and not real.