Dreams and Lullabies- Part 9

As the petals of a nearby daisy began to be plucked off of its head, they were carried away in the breeze. The petals were whipped and cracked by the wind; the rhythmic sound of Paul’s voice was also carried. The words, “she loves me,” and, “she loves me not,” were the rhythmic textures that were carried, producing a little song of happiness and heart break, depending on what he pulled. Paul had been basking in the sunlight for hours, his skin nice and warm, but he was also cool from the breeze. He had made friends with the grass and the daisies around him, and had enjoyed their company. As he began to sing his simple song, some of the daisies rushed to him, wanting to be plucked by him.
As he got to the last petals, instead of hearing himself say, “She loves me,” he heard Marylyn’s voice say, “I love you.” He then pulled his eyes from the petals and up to the horizon ahead of him. Sitting before a white chair appeared, similar to the chair were he slept in his first dream. Marilyn was sitting in the chair; she was in a wedding gown, it was as white as pearls. The dress was sleeveless which caused her creamy porcelain skin to show. Her hair was up in a decorative bun with porcelain chopsticks sticking through the bun. She was shoeless, showing her perfect feet to him. Her lips were plump and juicy like a ripe strawberry, just plucked from a field. Her cheeks were perfectly red as if she was a geisha. She sat more relaxed than proper, as if she was waiting for someone.
“I love you,” she said again, tears filling her eyes.
“I love you,” she said, his eyes began to water.
“I love you,” she said, the words began to echo in his head.
“I love you,” she said, her body began to shake.
“I love you,” she said, she began to scream.
“I LOVE YOU,” she said, the ground began to shake.
“I LOVE YOU,” she said, her skin began to boil.
“I LOVE YOU,” she said, her skin began to crack.
“I LOVE YOU,” she said, as she disappeared into thin air.
His eyes at this time were flowing with tears, as if he was a river. The words were still echoing in his head. His body slowly began to rise unconsciously and started to walk towards the chair, as if he was in a trance or hypnotized. As he came upon the chair he sat upon the roughness of the textures that the chair produced. His body was instantly pulled against the chair as if there was a magnetic pull on his body coming from the chair. The chair began to speed towards the horizon, as if it were a car. The chair began to swerve and turn and curve out of control, slamming into dead tree. The chair turned red, as it drained the blood out of his body from cuts and gashes in his skin. Cracks in his skull and bones became exposed through his skin, not causing him any pain, as if all his nerves had been numbed. The chair then bent and crooked and twisted into the form of a hospital gurney. As he lay in the hospital bed, wires and tubes tore through his skin and grow longer, connecting machines and bags of medicine.
The ground began to shake, and deep cuts appeared in the ground. Then out came walls of pale white, followed by a flat white ceiling that fell from the sky. The grass below and dirt beneath the bed then shook and white tiles protruded from the ground. Then chairs and windows and doors appeared around him, as if they were there the whole time. Then a cloth wrapped around his body, turning into a hospital dress, causing him to no longer be nude.
As Paul’s eyes whipped from side to side, he realized that he was alone in the room. But then bodies began to pop up around him. The people around him consisted of his friends and family, all of them with the same face of sadness and tears.
Then Paul sat up, his body staying still, but more like his spirit that was moving. The long piercing ringing of the heart rate monitor began to soak into everyone’s ears. He got out of the bed and looked back at himself, his lifeless body pale with stains of blood. As he looked upon himself, he remembered all of the things that had happened to him, the accident and the dreams. Tears filled everyone’s eyes, but everything seamed to be in slow motion. The people around him screamed, his mother dropped to her knees. His friends cried and held each other. His brother sat in the corner, weeping with sorrow. Everything was sad, and everything was bad, except for Marilyn: she was sitting on Paul’s side, whispering in his ear, repeating the words, “I love you,” over and over again.
Paul was dead. 

Dreams and Lullabies- Part 8

As Paul’s father opened his weary eyes, he realized that he had fallen asleep with his head lying against his son’s chest. He looked across the bed to see that his wife was missing from her seat. As he frantically sat up he noticed his wife was sleeping on the couch, holding their youngest son, John.
All of a sudden there was a knock on the glass door, causing Paul’s father to jump out of his skin; he stood up and walked to the door. Turning the handle to the door, he slowly opened to see a familiar face; it was Marilyn.
“I’m sorry that I’m here so late. My boss wouldn't let me get out of work until I cleaned the toilets,” she stated, the sound of pleading was running through her voice as if she had to ask him to let her in, though she was almost part of the family.
“Come on in,” Paul’s father said, taking her coat for her. As he removed it, he realized that it was drenched in water, as if she had swam through the ocean in it.
“It’s pouring outside,” she said, not even turning around to notice that he was confused about why it was dripping wet, “I had to run 13 blocks, from my work to here in the rain.”
“Oh,” he replied. “I was wondering…” he began to say, but suddenly stopped. The reason for his sudden end in the conversation was that he noticed that Marilyn had stayed almost in the door way. She was staring at Paul’s limp, cold body, her mind and body was stunned to the point that it was as if she was paralyzed. Her skin from head to toe began to crawl, as if she was covered in an army of ants. The color in her face became pasty as if she had seen a ghost jump out at her. Her heart began to thump in her chest, her hands began to shake like a rumbling train, and her mind began to race, causing a headache to pound through her skull. Her eyes slammed shut, squeezing them like her fists below her. She began to shake all over and the ants became bees, stinging every inch of her skin. She all of a sudden dropped to her knees and began to pound her fists on the ground; tears began to stream down her face, making a puddle on the floor. Paul’s father threw himself down at her to try to stop the noise that she was causing, trying to stop her from waking his wife and son.
“Stop, stop, stop,” he whispered to her, lifting her off the floor. ”Come on. Let’s get you to a seat.” He dragged her to the chair that had formally had held his wife, sitting her up in the chair. “Would you like anything?” he said, looking her in the eyes to get an answer. He looked deep into her eyes, searching for something that may give answers to all the things that were going on around him. She began to shake her head no, signaling that she was fine.
“Okay,” he stated. “I’m going to go get me some coffee.” He stood up and patted her on the shoulder uncomfortably. He began to walk out of the room, not looking back at his wife, his sons, or even Marilyn. As he opened the door a voice, close to a whisper, began to come from behind him. He turned around to see who was talking, still holding onto the door handle. Marilyn was leaning over and was talking into her love’s ear.
Paul’s father smiled, a tear rolled down his cheek. He walked out the door and closed it quietly, trying not to wake up his wife and child. 

Dreams and Lullabies- Part 7

As Paul awoke from his slumber, he realized that he was nude and laying on his face. The rain that he had fallen asleep in had eaten away at his clothes, leaving him naked upon the ground. Though he had fallen asleep on the spine of the road, he had woken in a field that was covered in an endless amount of blades of grass. The field was an endless valley of grass, as if the whole planet was covered by the green blades. He was the only thing in the vicinity as far as he could see, besides one tree that seemed to curve with the dome of the sky because it stood so tall.
The sun that beat down on him was red hot, causing his skin to burn and caused sweat to drip out of every opening in his skin. Requiring shade, he ran to the tree that lie in the distance, and found just that. Laying his body onto the cold grass, he stretched to take in all of the cool shade and gentle breeze that traveled over head, rustling every branch.
As Paul sat below the tree, the tree grew higher than the sky and vine fell to the ground. He moved his way towards the base of the tree as the flowers started to flourish around him. He could feel the grass begin to dance, as if the wind had blown to a beat, like a drum. He saw hills start to spring up in the distance, and begin to shake. It is as if the hills and mountains are doing the waltz as an earthquake shook the ground beneath him. Paul dug his fingers into the soil as he felt the earthquake shake his spine, but it was not the shaking of an earthquake, but the shaking of a million footsteps.
As Paul looked off into the distance, thousands of heads began to appear over the horizon, men coming to work. They were carrying their axes and hatchets, headed for the tree, their job to cut it to its roots. As the men reached Paul, they picked him up so that he would not be in the way. Thousands upon thousands of hands passed him to a clear spot were a plain chair was waiting.
The chair was smooth, like skin, and was firm like calluses. As Paul sat in the chair, he stroked the arms of the chair, feeling all the crevices and curves. He then realized that he was sitting on the formation of many hands, taken from the near by towns. As Paul tried to jump out of the chair, the hands grasped him and pulled him back into the hands.
“You cannot go,” the hands said, “You cannot save the tree. Its fate was decided by those who we live inside of.”
Confused to his wits end, Paul began to scream out, but this only caused more hands to spring out, covering his mouth, their grasp tighter than the rest.
The hands forced Paul to watch as the workers dismantled the tree. They chopped at the tree, causing screams to come from every branch and every leaf. The wind stopped blowing. The men screamed back and began to pull on the vines that hung from the dying tree as if they were children pulling on their mother’s hair. Blood trickled down the trunk of the tree; drops of blood filled the soil. This caused the flowers to welt because the blood was poisoned from the hatred towards the workers. The grass shifted and moved and ran for fear that they would die, postponing their ever-waking fate. The tree swung its branches, striking the workers that were to close to the tree. The men fought back. They swung their axes, their hatchets, their knives, and their hammers, chopping through the branches like warm and melted butter. Blood oozed and spilled and gushed out of the tree’s wounds, causing it to become weak. The tree wobbled and tumbled and fell, the men ran for safety. The tree hit the ground and crashed through the surface, crushing the flowers and blades of grass that had been spared by the poisoned blood.
As Paul watched all of this happen, his heart and soul and mind became enraged with anger towards the workers. He tried to get up to attack the men, but the hands that detained him tightened their grip because they new the consequences of his actions if they did not hold. Paul began to frantically tear at the hands, causing them to bleed. He ripped apart those who held him, pushing the chair to the ground; it burst into dust.
Paul ran towards the workers, fist clenched, fueled by hate and anger. The workers, knowing he was behind them, stopped and turned around. They taunted and teased and mocked Paul, knowing that he was a greater man then the rest of them. As Paul approached the workers, he received every blow that they threw at him without any reaction, but as Paul got closer to the workers, they aimed more towards his heart. Paul’s hatred grew rapidly as more and more insults came from more and more workers. As he reached the workers, heat ascended from his skin, causing him to look either like a glowing god or devil engulfed in flame. Then the workers, trying to show that they were men, taunted Paul until his breaking point, causing Paul to lash out at the workers.
As Paul swung at the workers, the blows seamed to disappear, as if he was swinging at air; he stopped and opened his eyes. As Paul looked around, all he saw was the fields, covered with grass that moved to a beat. He looked behind him to see the tree that was previously his friend; it lay dead on the ground, putrefied and decomposed. He then looked at the path leading to the tree. It was sprinkled with the bodies of the deceased, unrecognizable by even their kin.
Paul once again fell to his knees, as if he was once again on the spine of the road. Instead of tears, the fire that engulfed him began to fall off his body, setting the dead on fire; the bodies instantly began to turn to ash at the touch of the flames.
Then Paul leaned onto his back, still nude, and began to bathe in the sun and the wind; the grass massaging him to the beat of a drum.

Dreams and Lullabies- Part 6

As others around Sam began to fall asleep, John on his lap and Joe beside him, he was wide awake. He couldn't take his eyes off of Paul, giving him a sort of insomniac state. As he stroked John’s hair, he thought about how he had met Paul on a late November night.
Sam met Paul their freshmen year of college and they grew to be great friends. Paul accidentally bumped into Sam as he came down the library stairs. As Sam tumbled down the 150 steps, Paul caught him from behind and pulled him up to his chest. He helped Sam pick up his books, and then they began to talk. After going to a local cafe, Sam invited Paul to a party that he was holding for his significant other, Joe. At the party, Joe and Paul hit it off right away, becoming friends the instant they shook hands. Joe said that he had a friend who would be perfect for him, her name was Marilyn.
As Marilyn and Paul became friends, they started to fall in love, which caused an immense amount of emotion between them. After Joe and Sam got married in Massachusetts , Paul and Marilyn, now head over heals for each other, sent the newly weds to Hawaii .
As Sam thought of this very fond memory of Paul, he took Joe’s hand and began to weep; burying his head into Joe’s shoulder, waking him. Joe whispered sweet words into Sam’s ear to comfort him. Not doing the job, he sung softly into his ear. Joe had the voice of an angel, and could touch the very core of all those who where hurting.
He picked one of Sam’s favorite numbers and began to sing, “Baby mine, don't you cry, Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine. Little one when you play, don't you mind what you say. Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine,” Joe sang this until Sam eventually fell asleep on Joe’s shoulder, and every thing was peaceful. 

Dreams and Lullabies- Part 5

As the car smashed into Marilyn, she let out a high pitch scream that would make glass shatter like sugar. Her skin burst into a dust cloud and began to blow in the wind, disappearing into the distance. Her clothes began to rip in the wind, caught on the protruding sides of the speeding vehicle; it didn't slow to a stop.
Paul’s tear drops began to fall like the rain in the spring time, trickling and splashing onto the ground. The pain in his chest and stomach was so sharp that it stopped his involuntary walking and dropped him to his knees. He shouted profanities and insults at the far off vehicle and into the wind as he smashed his fist upon the ground. The indents that his fist made were like two craters on the surface of the moon, getting deeper and deeper as his body began to slowly lower into the earth. His fist became red hot and blistered, for all his power and energy began to rip through his skin.
By the time his hands were on fire, he had created craters big enough to build a pond in, and that is what happened for the rain began to pound upon his spine. The rain fell so fast that it filled the craters as his fists continually struck the ground: His screams were so loud that they roared louder than the thunder that fled across the sky. His fist created sparks brighter than the lightning that fell from the sky and his mind began to race, causing the very winds above him to shift and turn into cyclones. As the pain and rage came to full velocity, he reared his head towards the sky and screamed so long that it bared his soul, causing ever molecule in his body to scream and turn and twirl.
Then the voice of what seamed to be of a higher being fell from the heavens upon his ears, “I’m sorry my son,” the voice was full of emotion and confusion. “I let you down; I didn't show you the love that you deserved. I take the full blame for all that has happened to you, and I promise that I will be here with you until the end.” A few more rain drops began to fall, these bigger than the ones from before, as the voice sobbed. “Remem…” as the voice choked up, it cleared its throat and began again. “Remember when you asked me if I ever cried, if I ever got teary eyed at all? Probably not; you were so young. Well I never gave you a straight answer, but I’d like to tell you it now,” the man cleared his throat a second time; he wanted to tell it just right. “ The last time I cried was when you were born, when I picked you up for the first time, I looked into your eyes and thought, ‘Wow, this is my boy, my first son, my first born’ and then I began to sway with you in my arms. You began to cry and I sang a lullaby to you called “Golden Slumbers” to try to make you fall asleep,” the man sung the lullaby as if he was singing it to a new born baby. “Golden slumber kiss your eyes, Smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty baby, do not cry, And I'll sing you a lullaby. Care you know not, Therefore sleep, while I o'er you watch do keep. Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry And I will sing…“ The voice cracked, and began to weep, and once again the rain drops began to fall from the sky.
Paul, still looking into the sky, watched the rain drops fall upon his face, and he also began to cry. The craters began to rise and the water spilled out of the holes and began to run like the rivers down the streets.
Paul, after crying for hours, eventually became weary and fell asleep face down on the ground as the rain fell upon his spine.

Dreams and Lullabies- Part 4

The room was dead silent except for the constant dripping coming from Paul’s IV. The sound was enough to drive a man mad, and was almost doing just that to those who surrounded Paul’s almost lifeless body. His mother, tissue in hand, sat to the right of Paul’s bed, holding his hand and covering it in tears. His father was out in the lobby getting coffee for him and his wife, for they hadn't slept in over 24 hours.
Among those who sat in the room consisted of Paul’s grandparents who sat on the couch that was brought in from the lobby, Paul’s best friends, Joe and Sam, stood behind Paul’s mother, and his little brother, John, sat crying in the corner. But of all of these people, the most beautiful person in the room was the lovely Marilyn.
She sat next to John, holding his hand and trying to comfort him, even though she herself was an emotional wreck. Her beauty rained supreme over everyone else’s ordinary looks; she was as beautiful as a white dove flying over a great sea, her hair was as bright as the sun, and her skin was like newly polished porcelain. And though she sat in a grim and dark room, her face was like an angel’s. Though her beauty was like a light in an abyss, her spirit was even brighter. If you could capture it, the blind would see, the deaf would hear, the mute could speak, and the cripple would walk and jump. She gave hope to those who had none, and at this point and time, hope was running low. She stood and walked to Paul’s mother, putting her hand on her shoulder, she began to speak, “I’m sorry, but I have to leave, my boss doesn't give anytime off unless it’s a family member in the hospital,” she said as her voice began to quiver.
“It’s okay my dear,” Paul’s mother said, grabbing Marilyn’s hand. These were the first words spoken by her in hours: she began to speak again, “You will come back, right?”
“Yes, as soon as I get off of work,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry,” she said as she began to walk out of the room. She waved good-bye to John, opening up the door. She shut the door and began to walk to the elevator, not stopping to say good-bye to Paul’s father because she was afraid she would become hysterical.
After watching Marilyn safely get onto the elevator, Paul’s father stepped into the room, coffee in hand. His clothing consisted of a pair of white tennis shoes, a pair of blue jeans, and a polo button up shirt stained with his wife’s tears. He sat the first cup of coffee next to his wife, she didn't touch the warm Styrofoam cylinder, nor did she even realize he had given it to her. He then sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. He sat his coffee on his thigh, never lifting his hand to take a drink. He stared at his son’s closed eyes, thinking of all the times he had scolded his son instead of saying how much cared. He leaned in, coming close to his son’s ear, and started to whisper some words, tears streaming down his face. 

Dreams and Lullabies- Part 3

When Paul’s eyes opened a second time, he was on the spine of a road, walking its path. As he looked from side to side, houses parted on the left and right, he came to the conclusion that he was on his street. Realizing that his house was the next one on the right, he tried to run, but his legs felt as if he was walking through water. He pulled his body right, but it was as if he were pushing against a brick wall. As he moved past his house, the aroma of fire embers and burning pine was in the passing air. He turned his head to see his house, there were flames spilling and poring from every window, every entrance, and even the garage. The house screamed into to wind, its insides breathing fire. The smoke rose from the building as it caved in, the structure to bent and turned. Paul’s heart raced, his mind spun, and his eyes fogged. His whole world was spinning, his body swayed.
“Are you alright?” said a voice that was meant for an angel. He snapped back into reality, realizing that noticeable voice was his girlfriend, Marilyn.
“Are you alright?” she asked again, fear and dread in her voice. He stared at her as if he had seen a ghost.
“What’s wrong with you?” her voice was getting more and more distressed. His heart began to beat like a Native American drum.
“Yeah I’m fine,” he said as his stomach began to turn with fright.
“How did you get here?” he asked. His palms began to sweat and run like if he had put them under a tap.
“ I've been here the whole time,” she said. All of a sudden his heart felt like it stopped, his breath rushed out of his chest, and his feet stopped.
“Were you here when…” he began to say before a red sports car raced down the road, coming straight at Marilyn.

Dreams and Lullabies- Part 2

The paramedics pushed him into a room filled with lights that would make a man go blind, but not this man: he was dead. A doctor rushed into the room, followed by men and women in scrubs. They were pulling behind them many machines, fitting into the room so that they could try and to him.
“Clear!” the doctor screamed, pressing hot iron like paddles onto his chest.
“Again!” frantically screamed a woman in white scrubs, they had pointless little drawings of flowers and birds frolicking through a field.
“Clear!” once again was shouted. A large amount of electricity ran through his body, jump starting his heart.
“Got a pulse,” one of the nurses said, hooking him up to a machine that would keep his heart pumping.
At that instant, a man and a woman rushed into the room, frantically looking from face to face. The woman cried out in the middle of the room for her son, then seeing the man lying on the table, she rushed to his side. She began to hug his body and kisses were thrown onto his face. Hands rushed to her, pulling her away from her son, because they were trying to put in tubes and wires. The man grabbed the woman and held onto her as tight as he could because if he didn't she would of pushed her way back to the injured man.
“Give me my son!” she screamed tears and mucus rushing down her face.
“What happened to him?” the man said holding onto the woman, who was also his wife.
“His car was flipped on I-95, a passing car saw the whole thing happen and called 911,” said the doctor who had just finished saving their son’s life. “We will know more once you fill out some paperwork and we talk to the police.”
With a nod of his head, the man pulled his wife away, out of the room of lights and into a room wear they would have to fill out some paperwork for the hospital. As the man filled out the papers at the front desk, the woman stared at her son’s lifeless body, tears soaking her blouse.
“First things first,” the lady behind the desk said, “What is your sons name?”
“Paul,” the man said as a single tear streamed down his face. 

Dreams and Lullabies- Part 1

As the florescent sun came up over the horizon, the coast gleamed with the anticipation of the new day. The crashing waves began to sparkle and excel as the sun began to run through them. The light began to slowly make its way up the shore, causing the sand to become hot. It made its way up to the houses that lined the shore, the people inside still sleeping. The warm rays of the sun ran up the house, passing through every nook and cranny, slipping into the living room window. The sun light began to cross the floor, chasing the shadows of night into the abyss. The sun then came upon the chairs and couches that were scattered across the room.
He sat in a grey recliner, passed out on the stains of sweat, spit, and remains of the party from the previous night. As the sun light passed his eye lashes, it escaped into his eyes, passing through his cornea and lenses. The sun then came across his optic nerve, causing all the millions of nerve fibers to send the picture of a bright light into his brain, turning it on like a car. His eyes lids shot open, his heart beat quickened, and his stomach turned. The drinks, food, and whatever else that had been shoved down his throat the previous night began to come back up. His chest and trachea began to burn as the bile began to fill his mouth. Onto the oak wood floor spilled his entire insides including chunks of his stomach, filling the floor and rushing to the edges of the house.
After dry heaving, his stomach empty, it began to settle and he sat back. He looked up and saw the beach that lay before him. The seagulls were now out, and they were hunting for their breakfast. As he watched one gull fly down to catch a fish, he prayed that the gull would catch it, that it would be happy with its morning. As the gull dove into the water, he watched with anticipation to see if the bird got its prey. As the bird shot back up out of the water, the fish in its mouth began to flop, causing him to smile.
He started to inspect the scenery; the waves and sun reflected the bright ball of fire that sat before him, causing him to cover his eyes from it with his right hand. The back of his hand, covered in the vomit that had just come out of his mouth, blocked the sun. This revealed to him the friends that lay on the ground inside of the house who were passed out on stains; they lay in his vomit. He sickly smiled, causing bile, chunks of stomach, and food that covered his teeth to show.
He then leaned back into the chair, sinking into the curves of the cushions. He fell back to sleep, or what he thought was sleep, because he did not know that what had just happened wasn't real. He did not know that his body was not laying in a nice La-Z-Boy, but was lying in his disfigured and mutilated convertible, blood poring from cracks in his skull and cuts in his membrane where bones were projected out.
As he lay in his dream chair, he thought that nothing could be better than this, that the most amazing and extraordinary feelings were the ones he was feeling; the feelings of being sick and happy.