Thursday, October 10, 2013

Am I Awake?

Part of taking classes are the assignments, so as I said earlier one of my classes is creative writing. For our first assignment we have all been working on writing a short short fiction story.  Everyone brought them in for a workshop with our classmates and then get to go back and refine it. 
It was amazing to see the shear talent and creativity of many of these young students. I have to admit I was a little nervous bringing my writing in for others to read and critique. Many of the suggestions were both useful and helpful. Here is the end result.
I know with all of the political mayhem I could have taken shots at our government, but for today I figured I would share something of mine. I hope you enjoy it and consider it a small break from you day.

Am I Awake?
     It is only a dream!  The first thing I remember was waking up, quickly.  You know, like when you jump out of bed because you know you are late.  I’m not late though, and I can’t seem to open my eyes yet.  I hate waking up.  Morning is the worst part of my day.  Get the kids to school, pack my husband’s lunch, clean the house, the list goes on and on.  
     Why can’t I open my eyes?  Come on wake up!  What are you going to do, sleep the day away?  Oh, that would be so nice.  I can feel the darkness closing in again.
     I must be dreaming, I think to myself.
     “John, hurry up your going to be late for school again.”  I yell down the hall.
     “I’m coming mom!  You’re such a frigging nag.”  He says with teenage sarcasm.
     Annoyed I begin to throw lunches together.  Never seeing the dogs following my every step or the warm sun peaking in through the kitchen window as it shines across the floor.  I hurry around, getting everyone ready to leave for their day.  The fragrant smell of warm coffee brewing, teases my nose while I wait for the mass exodus to begin.
     I yell, “Move it!  Don’t make me tell you again.”
     John a lanky and lean teenager strides into the kitchen, plopping down in his chair he absently picks up a piece of toast and begins to munch on it.  At sixteen, he is a full head taller than I am.  His sandy blonde hair and brown eyes sparkle as he savors every bite.  He walks over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup of coffee.
     “Ah,” he sighs drinking the fresh brew.
     “John, get going you don’t have time for that.”  I tell him.  “You have to leave now!  You’re going to be late!”
     Making a face, he scoops his nap-sac off the chair heading for the door.
     “You’re a pain in my ass.  Some day you won’t be able to tell me what to do.”  He growls as he is leaving letting the door slam in his wake.
     Some days I would really like to just smack the crap out of him.  Sighing I go and pull out my husband and daughter’s lunch and wait.
     Taking a sip of the forgotten coffee on the counter, I savor its bite as I turn to face the two remaining occupants.  My husband Len and daughter Kerri who are quietly finishing their breakfast, oblivious to the world around.  They get up, leaving their dishes as they turn to head out the door.
     “Have a good day babe.”  Len says, kissing me before he and Kerri go out the door. His 6’4” body an older replica of my son, towers over my youngest as they shuffle out the front door.  Turning I, face the kitchen, which looks like a tornado, has gone through it.  As I stand there finishing my coffee, I enjoy the brief moment of silence in my now empty house.
     Picking up the laundry basket that is sitting by the door, I make my way to the laundry room to get things moving along.  All the while, I keep a running dialogue going with my two bulldogs.  They follow my every step dancing under my feet they keep up, while I hurry to get things done.
     “Mom will take care of it all.”  I say to them as I pull out my stepladder to grab a new box of detergent off the shelf above the washer.  Climbing up I reach up on tiptoes to grab the bottle above my head, just a little further I think as I push to reach it.  The dogs jostle the ladder and I feel myself falling back.
     “Ahhh!”  I scream as I fall and the dogs run from the room.  Backwards, I fall and then suddenly there is blackness, no sound other then the dogs whimpering from the other room.  As if in slow motion, everything fades from grey to black.
     Why can’t I wake up?  Why can’t I open my eyes?  There, it’s getting lighter.  I think to myself.
      I can see myself laying on the floor now, blood pooling around my head and my leg twisted in the ladder.
     Is that me?  I ask myself as I float above.
     Is that how I look?  Worn and tired.  Detached, I look at myself laying there on the floor.  Suddenly the dogs begin to howl, whimpering they crawl in close laying their heads down next to mine.

     “I’m dead!”  I realize, as I look at my still lifeless body growing pale and mottled.  The puddle of blood underneath grows larger.  Just like that, and it’s over, no good bye, no apologies no second chance, no do over’s.

Its More then Just a Dream

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As a recently married 46 year old I am in the process of finishing my degree. Working to take care of my family and live my life.Blogging, working, writing, and chugging along like most of us.  Who am I ? I am you, I am me, I am your mother, friend, the best and worst that we each have inside of us. I am a different perspective and find myself fascinated by the interesting moments in life.

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