My mind freaks me out sometimes.
I had a dream last night that was so epic, I had to share.
In the dream I was about 13 (already a nightmare) but I was not “me”. I had a younger brother who was about 9 or 10. We were picked up from school by our dad. I remember every detail, down to my little brothers back pack. We were very poorly dressed. Our hair was greasy, nails dirty, very skinny. Our father looked like the guy who stole the dog at the beginning of Ace Ventura Pet Detective. Big dude, kinky hair, mean looking. He took us home then said I needed to watch my littlest brother who was around 2. He was blonde, and adorable. I told the 10-year-old to start on his homework, while I went to go do the dishes. Our mother was passed out on the bed in her room. I could see long, thin, brown arms and delicate hands with several rings on them. She wore tight acid wash jeans and a ratty shirt. I just shook my head and picked up something in the hallway.
I got after my brother to do his homework again while I changed my little brothers diaper and gave him a dirty bottle. That’s when my younger brother whispered that he knew Daddy wasn’t his real dad. I hushed him and asked what he was talking about. He said he found a paper that said we weren’t Dad’s kids. My heart sank, somehow deep down I knew it was true. I asked where the paper was, he told me the hall closet. I told him to be still and went to look. Sure enough I found a shoebox of letters, ransom letters to several parents, and pictures of several kids. Dead kids. One picture was of a boy that I remembered like a dream. I grabbed the papers and took them out to the living room. I ushered the boys into the bedroom they shared and shoved all the paperwork into the backpack and stuffed it under the bed.
Just then, our father came home and came back to the bedroom. He asked what we were doing. I told him I was helping the boys clean up. I made sure to be really nice and respectful with my tone. I watched nervously as he petted the boys. He said to get it done quick and make dinner, he was going out again and would be back in an hour. I heard my mother mumble something and he went to her. Shortly after, he left. I told my brothers we were getting out of there. I began to shove a couple of change of clothes and some diapers into the back pack. I said to 10-year-old that we needed money. I knew that Mom and Dad kept a lot of it somewhere. He told me he had found it in the locked dresser. I went to it and try to pry it open. All the while I kept listening for our mother to get up, or our father to come back suddenly. I couldn’t get it open. My brother came up and said he had the key. I opened it right up and there were stacks of money. I grabbed all of it, and a pack of cigarettes just to spite my parents.
I took them back to the bedroom and opened the window. I pushed out the screen, and heard the front door open. Our father was home. I heard him yelling at Mom so I took the kids and we made a run for it. We crossed a back lot toward a gas station. The 10-year-old kept running ahead and I yelled for him to slow down and look for a cab. I kept looking for one too but didn’t see any. The city was big and I knew that we could duck in somewhere if we were being chased. We got about a mile down the city street when police whistles began to blow. I didn’t know if they were coming for us or not, but I was scared they would take us home. We turned down the next street and ran. I held the two year old the whole time and just prayed we would make it. We were going to go to the airport, buy a ticket, and fly away to our real parents. I knew if I found mine they would love and accept my little brothers.
Just as the dream got exciting, one of my kids came in the room and woke me up. I wonder sometimes if dreams come to you from others who have a story that was never told. Sometimes they are so real….I remember the layout of the apartment, the dirty faces of the boys. Weird.