• The Dream
    Elbow on table, face squished against cheek; She looked at me. Her stare pierced right through me. She was a zombie.
    She picked up a napkin, wiped her chin, balled up the napkin, and clutched it. Twinning’s Irish Breakfast Tea. Her favorite. It was the least I could do. She then proceeded to take another sip of tea, relaxing her muscles, but a drop dribbled out of her mouth, down her chin and made its final descent straight back into her cup. It made a loud “ker-plunk” noise as it hit the liquid.
    She was in and out of consciousness, her eyes open then closed, open then closed. I couldn’t take it anymore! Ferociously, I stood up, yanked the balled napkin out of her hand.
    “DARLEEN, do you see what you’re doing to yourself? You look like a baby. A baby. A baby, who can’t wipe its own God-damned mouth.” Her eyes festered open, shocked, that I had the courage talk to her like that.
    “I know. It was a sad thing that happened. Your husband died, but he’s dead. Gone. No amount of self-pity is gonna bring him back, and you know this. Now get off your pity horse and LIVE life. It’s been 3 years.” I stared at her, yet again, waiting. Waiting, for some type of response. An Acknowledgment. NOD, even, that she, MY Darleen, was still in there. She looked directly into my eyes.
    “I had a dream.” She paused. “He died.”
    “NO, DARLEEN. That wasn’t a dream, he’s still d--“
    Interrupting me with a quick chime, the most vicarious I’ve seen my sister in a while. “NO. He died. In my dream. The night before he died on earth.”
    I saw a tear begin to roll down her cheek. “I’ll never forget that night, in my dream…He was coming back from the bar…but he didn’t want me to know he had been drinking, again. So he hitchhiked. And. And well, he was killed. Killed, by a drunk driver. Ya, you heard me right…the guy in the driver’s seat was drunk.”
    The way she told her story was the most alive I’ve seen my sister since the accident. She never told us how Donald had died. And we never asked.
    “The night after my dream. He died. The same way. But… But, this time. It was for real.”
    She assumed her same pathetic position as before. I could barely hear her. She was mumbling. Her hand was on her face, but the next thing she said…I would never forget. I almost wished I didn’t hear.
    “And that’s why I never sleep anymore. I’m afraid. Afraid… That you’re gonna be the one in my dream. That the victim’ll be, you.” I gave her one final stare.
    It all made sense.