DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS
Maryah
Dream-version Nathan looked tired, or worried, or stressed, or an overdose of all three. He sat on Dylan and Amber’s couch staring at the Christmas tree. Molokai and Baby Hilo were in the dream too, and snow fell outside, just like before I went to bed. Molokai was on the couch beside Nathan. He petted her and kissed her on the nose.
“Ha.” I grunted. As if Nathan would be that sweet.
Molokai’s focus locked on me and she whimpered. At first Nathan didn’t react, but then she jumped down and sat in front of me. She barked once, wagging her tail as she looked back at Nathan. He watched her, but didn’t say anything. She raised her front paws like she wanted to put them in my lap and Nathan’s green eyes grew wider.
He slowly rose to his feet, glancing around the room then walked over to the Christmas tree. He looked in my direction and curled his fingers like he wanted me to come closer. “Merry Christmas, Maryah.”
Why did my dreams feel so real?
He reached forward, removed a crystal peacock feather from the tree, and held it between us. He glanced up at the star tree topper and sighed. “I don’t know what I miss more, you or my sanity.”
I waved my hand in front of his face to see if he responded, but his eyes were shut tightly.
“All I want to do is protect you,” he said. “No, that’s a lie. I want you back, the old you, the you who knew everything.”
An urge to touch him overwhelmed me. I moved closer, close enough to feel the body heat radiating from him.
He opened his eyes but stared at the ornament in his hand. “You’d be able to figure out what Dedrick is planning. I feel like war has been declared, and I’m helpless to stop it. I can’t do this without you.”
As usual in my ridiculous dreams, I had no idea who Dedrick was or why I’d be imagining Nathan talking about war, but he looked so vulnerable. I raised my hand, reaching for his face, but he turned and walked away. A huge brown circle covered the back of his ripped shirt. Panicking, I looked at Nathan’s jacket, still draped over the arm of the couch. Sure enough, it had dried blood all over the inside.
Mikey , I told myself. I’m dreaming about blood on his shirt because my mind is still traumatized from seeing Mikey get stabbed . The real Nathan wasn’t bleeding, and he certainly hadn’t been standing in Amber’s living room saying he missed me.
Molokai trotted along behind me as I checked the next room and glanced up the stairway, but Nathan was nowhere to be found. He had vanished into thin air.
“Stupid dream,” I mumbled. Molokai barked at me.
I woke up and let my eyes adjust to the dark room. Molokai was barking downstairs, so that explained why I dreamed about her. I hated that I felt so drawn to Nathan in my dreams.
A beam of moonlight danced across my ring. I took it off and set it on the nightstand. My brain really needed to find something to dream about besides peacock feathers and Nathan.
Amber apologizing for Nathan earlier didn’t mean much. It’s not like he was apologizing. How could I forgive him if he never made any attempt to tell me he was sorry? Maybe his bloody back was a warning not to get close to him or he’d hurt me again, or stab me in the back. I wondered what April’s dream dictionary would say.
I flipped onto my side, fluffed my pillow, and tried to forget the whole stupid thing.
∞
Waking up to the sound of a metal shovel grinding against concrete was comforting. It reminded me of snow days in Maryland when my father would clear the driveway and sidewalk before Mikey and I went sledding.
Then I remembered it was Christmas morning, and my heart sank. I stared at the ceiling, trying to convince myself I could survive Christmas without my family. I wanted to run into Mikey’s room and bounce on his bed while shouting for him to wake up so we could open presents, but that would never happen again.
I sat up to look out the window and see how much snow accumulated overnight, but I froze with shock. There, hanging from the lock of Nathan’s bedroom window, was the glass peacock ornament from my dream.
I pinched the skin on my wrist as hard as I could, but nothing happened.
I was awake and the ornament was real.
After rushing downstairs and searching the couch and living room for a bloody jacket, and finding nothing, I realized I had a better chance of finding Santa and his reindeer. As if any part of my dream could have been real.
Louise—or someone—would be awake and freaking out if Nathan had been injured so severely, and he wouldn’t be sneaking into my room to hang an ornament in my window. The feather must have been hanging there since I arrived—I just failed to notice it.
I’d never been the most observant person in the world.
