I go back into my house through the back door, so as not to wake my parents. My bedroom looks so familiar. My vintage typewriter on a desk, next to my closed laptop. My bed, the covers torn and laying on the floor. My cloths in a dresser, a bookshelf. All of these books I payed for myself after reading them from the library. I had to secretly get a library card when I was in third grade. I said that I was going to see Erin, but I walked in my raincoat down to the library. Imagine a wet but exited looking third grader, who wanders up to the front desk. You can see the magic in his face. Life was magic back then. He pulls out a dollar and places it on the counter.
“ Can I have a library card?”
I sit on my bed and stare out the window, my thoughts churning around in my head. Uncontrollable. Tonight's events feel so far away I think it may actually be a dream. I sigh and fall down in my bed. I need some rest.
I’m sitting in a boat, and the water around me is so very cold, the boat so very weak.
Why do you always have such dreams Vierra?
The thing is, I don’t. I usually am so tired that I sleep like a rock. No dreams. Just eerie blackness. This should be no different.
That's the thing Vierra. Everything about this is different. Can’t you see it?
Yes, I can see it quite clearly. I can feel it. The boat was so real. I can feel the cold biting me, threatening me. I can clearly see the beautiful waves. Beautiful and dangerous. It is amazing to me the power of a mind.
But the cold is seeping away. I am being sharply told to wake up, and to wake up now.
James is framed in the doorway . I can still feel the cold. I can still hear the sound of the wind, ripping and tearing at my little wooden boat.
But I am also wide awake.