Chapter 39: Chapter 38: Are Dreams Actually Memories Come Forth (Part 1)

The past may be a field of autumn trees, of wildlife scattering and flitting about in their need for survival, and beauty even among the ugliest things, but there are certain points in life where you can’t help but admire the ugliness of it. The rotten grass that smelled of spoiled eggs. The creatures that inhabited it cried blood and screamed harsh. How such a place can exist amongst the beauty is unknown, but what I do know is that whenever I look behind me, away from the fog, that ugliness is all I can ever see. 

For me, the rotten grass is all that’s there. 

I look at a polluted puddle, and a face stares back at me. It’s the face of my mother, smiling at me. Her eyes are hidden behind a layer of muck, concealing the one thing that connected us. Most of my features come from my father, but the one thing that I knew for certain that came from my mother, it was her eyes. We share the same aqua eyes ever since I was born. 

But I can’t see it. It’s all hidden away behind all the pollution that tainted the lake’s waters. So, I look as far behind me as I can to find an autumn tree. I spot one, far off into the distance. A hole, meant for squirrels to make their nests, lit up and my vision went white.

Once the light vanished, I found myself in a stadium. The light came from someone’s phone, reflecting the sunlight as it shined on my face. I held up my hand to block the light, and it succeeded. I could finally see clearly.

I’m sitting in the top row of a baseball stadium. Down below on the ground, the batter was preparing themselves for the incoming pitch. The electronic board showed he had already missed twice, so if he missed once more, he’d be out. Not only that, but they’ve struck out twice already. This last hit will decide if they can remain batting, or if they’ll switch out with their opponents. 

Weirdly enough, my gut filled with anticipation for the oncoming swing. I wanted him to hit it and keep the streak going. Someone was already on third base, so if he can get a good hit then they could potentially gain two points. At the very least, they could get one and the batter can make it to first.

“Pay attention.” I heard a familiar woman’s voice beside me. I turn and stare wide eyed as I see my mother leaning forward on her seat, eyes focused on the game. A foam finger was covering her hand, and she had a sprite in the other. “I’m calling it now. He’ll hit it and get a home run. Just look at his stance. The way he crouches down, one foot ahead so he can get a head start. He’s preparing his best hit yet.”

I hesitantly tear my eyes away from my mother to see what she’s talking about. I pay attention to the batter’s stance, but it looked just like everyone else when they went up to the home plate. But she must know what she’s talking about. My mother was one of the best batters in her highschool softball team. At least that’s what she tells me. Anytime we go to play outside, the ball barely flies. 

The pitcher drew back his hand. Mother and I stood from our seats in anticipation for the hit. The pitcher flung his arm, and the ball launched into the air, flying at the batter with speeds faster than cars drive on a highway. 

The batter, with inhuman perception, somehow noticed the ball and swung his bat. It was just at the right time. The ball and bat came into contact and the ball changed direction. It flew into the sky, high enough to sail down the court, but not enough for a home run.

The player on third base began running as soon as the batter let the bat fall from his grip. The entire field was still before, but as soon as the ball flew in the air, everyone erupted into motion. The batter ran all the way to first, the third base player ran to home, and the players farther down the field tracked the ball, trying to catch it. This was their last chance to get that final strike they desire, so everyone focused on the ball as it fell to the earth.

I followed the ball’s path as well, hoping that it would fall to the ground with no competition. I forgot about this memory completely, but now that I’m here, I bathed in the warmth that filled my heart. It’s been so long since I’ve visited my mother, so I savored being with her one more time, even if it’s not really real. 

However, I saw it as soon as the ball began to lose air. A catcher positioned themselves directly below the path the ball was taking. With a single raise of their hand, the ball fell into the glove of the catcher, and everything that happened turned out to be pointless. 

So, why is the place this dream lives in filled with leaves of gold and life aloud and alive? A screaming of pure rage erupted to my right, and I turned to see my mother leaning so far forward, her hands were on the man that was sitting in front of us. 

“You have to be kidding me. Redo that shot!” Mother screamed at no one.

“Will you get your hands off me?” The man yelled. He stood up and stared my mother down, but she took his challenge head on.

“You want to go, punk? I’m in a pissy mood right now and I’m itching for a fight.” 

She grabbed her arm and pulled up her sleeve. The man was about to do the same until the woman beside him reached up and tried to pull the man down. 

“Will you shut up? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

He shook his wife’s hand off him and stared my mother down with an even fiercer glare. The man’s wife sighed as if this weren’t the first time he picked a fight with someone. This wasn’t the first time my mother tussled with someone twice her size either, but this time it was different. 

I don’t know what made me laugh. All I know is that when I stare at my mom’s anger ridden face, the way her skin scrunched up made her look like a raisin that set out for a year. That image alone let a mighty laugh escape my throat.

The man and my mother stopped staring at each other and turned my way. They saw me doubled over in laughter, looked at each other, and smiled like a bunch of dumb idiot dumbbells.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” The man apologized.

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“No, I’m sorry.” Once mother finished her apology, she grabbed me and hugged me close to her, laughing along with me. “Let’s finish watching the game, Ty.”

Now I remember what was so great about this day. The game fell away, becoming only background noise for the sound of our laughter. I don’t remember the last time my stomach hurt so badly just from laughing, but I miss it. I miss it so much.

A crack of a bat hitting another ball sounded throughout the arena, and mom let go of me. I stared at the ground, catching my breath after every little bit of oxygen left my lungs. I noticed something fall onto the ground. Something black.

My attention rips away from everything else and I stare at a black piece of goop on the ground. It stuck to the floor like a piece of bubblegum. The goop slowly flowed further out and flattened itself to the ground.

I looked up, since that’s where it fell from. I don’t see anything spectacular, so what probably happened was someone threw their trash down. What kind of trash can look like that though? 

As I stare up, my eyes glaze over the sun. It blinds me, and the world returns to nothing but white.

Suddenly, I’m back on the road of fog and rotten grass. I shook my head, wondering what had just happened, then looked back at the tree. It’s nothing but a normal tree. A squirrel climbs out and climbs the tree, circling around it. Two baby squirrels exit the hole as well and follow their mama up the tree. They disappeared behind the golden leaves, and I never saw them again.

What just happened? I’ve never gone back and looked at memories like that before. It was so real. I felt so enthralled by what was happening, that for a brief second I believed that was reality and everything after had just been one insanely long dream. That was the wrong assumption. That was the dream, and this is reality.

I look at another part of the road, but this time at a rotten part of the forest. A lizard sat on a rock, bathing in sunlight that shone on it and it alone. Red marks were underneath its eyes. The marks were the same color as blood, and my eyes entranced themselves into the crimson marks. 

Then it blinked, and blood shot out of its eyes. My eyes follow the blood, and the world changes before me once again. 

I shake my hand, pain throbbing at the tip of my finger. I take my finger out of my pocket and notice that I had cut myself. Digging into the pocket, I feel something metallic at the bottom. I take it out and I find myself staring at a green pocket knife with a yellow dragon painted along the side. 

I know this knife. It’s the knife that I’ve had ever since I turned eight. It was a gift from my mother on Christmas. She thought that if I took it with me, then I’d have something to protect me whenever she’s not around. 

She was right, too. If it weren’t for this knife, I’d have been robbed multiple times by thugs on the streets. I look at my body and notice that I’m back to being a normal fifteen-year-old. I remember something, so I pull up my shirt to see if it’s still there. What do you know, it is still there?

A pack of abs is what’s buried underneath this shirt of mine. I can’t believe I let myself go so bad. I was one of the most fit people in my grade, working out daily and everything. But now the closest I have to exercise is masturbation. At least until Harmony came along, and now she works me out in other ways.

I pull down my shirt and look around. I’m on a sidewalk in the suburbs of Juxten. The moon is high, and the sun is non-existent. The only source of light came from the street lamps and from the moon’s radiant glow. 

I notice I’m in front of a house, so I look to see who’s home I’m in front of. My breath leaves me as my memory kicks into overdrive as a nostalgic place comes into full view. It’s a place that only exists within two realms of reality. One is my memories, and the other is my dreams. Although it exists in reality too, the house is not the same as it was before.

I’m looking at a place I haven’t been to since sophomore year. After the incident happened, I just never came back. I was too focused on writing my upcoming book, dealing with my father, and surviving highschool to ever come back. That and I just didn’t want to return. It hurt me too much to see this place. It’s hurting me now, but I still walk towards it.

Something falls at the corner of my eye. I swiftly turn, my heart leaping out of my chest. A piece of black goop lies in the center of a lit up sidewalk. It looks back at me, but it has no eyes. 

I look away from the strange never before seen goop and return walking to the house. There’s no way ignoring that thing will bite me in the ass later. I’m walking towards a house that’s tortured me for years on end. I think ignoring this house right now will bite me harder than whatever that goop can do.

I stand on the porch, taking deep breaths. My hands are shaking. My eyes go blurry. I steel myself, preparing to ring the doorbell and ignore the beating of my heart. My brain tells me to stop. My brain tells me to stop. My brain tells me to ring that doorbell and never look back.

I ring it. 

The sound of a doorbell vibrates through the house, and I know I can never look back. Whatever happens, happens. I’ve taken this path, and the only thing I can do now is follow it, no matter how many dead ends it leads me to. 

Footsteps approaching from the other side. I stop breathing. My heart refuses to quit beating. The door opens. A familiar redhead awaits me.

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