Adventures in Dreamland

My item has been submitted for consideration in: "Dreamer's Sanctuary" .

Word Count: 1,648



Adventures in Dreamland

         This can’t be right…

         I glance around myself once more and close my eyes for a full five seconds, but when I open them again nothing has changed. I’m still standing in the middle of a busy street—a busy dirt street that smells like horse manure and vomit, lined with medieval-looking buildings where people in medieval-looking clothing are bartering, bickering, blabbering, and doing other medieval-looking things.

         “Move, wench!” A loud voice yells just before hooves force me to shuffle backward to avoid being trampled. I trip over my skirts and land on my ass on the packed dirt. Wait… skirts?

         I haven’t worn a skirt since I was five.

         I glance down at my body and sure enough, I’m dressed just as oddly as the people around me.

         “Mommy, what’s wrong with that lady?” A child asks his mother as they scurry past me.

         “She must be daft, dear. Don’t look at her.” The mother says, pulling her nosy son along by his arm.

         I can hear you…

         “There you are!” Someone says, grabbing me roughly by my arm and hauling me to my feet. “If we don’t hurry we’ll be late!” A girl around my age has a tight grip on my arm and proceeds to drag me through the crowded street, gushing at the speed of light about some sort of game and me costing her a lot of money. I have no idea what she’s talking about or where we’re going, but I can’t get a word in amongst her nonsensical chattering. The strangest part of the interaction, though, is how quickly we seem to be moving. Though my skirts are twisting around my legs and I’m tripping and falling with every other step, we never slow down or stop.

         “You’re late!” A man yells at us when we reach the door of one of the buildings. The girl offers him a half-hearted explanation before dragging me inside.

         “What are we doing here?” I ask as the girl and I fight our way through another crowd of people, shoving everyone aside and ignoring their protests.

         “What do you mean? The game is about to start!” She answers, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

         What game?!

         The crowd parts to reveal a huge table surrounded by people. The layout of the table looks similar to Roulette, though there are at least 200 different slots. According to my acquaintance, we’re supposed to put our balls in a rutted track just outside the numbers and place our bet. I have three balls, which I place next to hers on the table.

         “How much?” She asks me eagerly.

         “How much what?” I retort, thoroughly confused.

         “Money!” She tells me, exasperated.

         “I don’t know, a hundred?” I offer. I’ve never been to a casino before, nor have I ever gambled. How am I supposed to know what a normal bet looks like? Apparently I chose wrong, though, because as soon as I placed my bet a hush fell over the room and everyone turned to stare at me. “What?” I ask the girl, who’s staring at me with her mouth hanging open.

         You’ll catch flies like that.

         “Are you sure?” She asks me slowly.

         “She already said it!” Someone shouts, and the room murmurs its agreement adamantly. Before I can say anything, the wheel on the table starts spinning quickly.

         “Wait, I didn’t pick any numbers!” I protest.

         “What on Earth are you talking about?” The girl asks, annoyed.

         I could ask you the same thing!

         When the wheel stops spinning, all the balls have magically landed in the same slot except for three of them. Judging from the look on every face in the crowd, those three balls are mine and I’m in big trouble.

         “Let’s see that hundred gold!” Someone shouts, and the room roars its agreement. I glance toward the girl just in time to see her golden curls disappearing into the crowd.

         Of course. What did I expect?

         “There’s no way a wench like her has a hundred gold.” A tall man across the table says with an evil looking smile. A shiver runs down my spine as the aura in the room turns foreboding. “You’ll be coming with me, girl.”

         Rough hands grip my forearms tightly and drag me from the room. I close my eyes and scream, kicking and writhing in a foolish attempt to earn myself freedom. When I open my eyes again I’m on the back of a carriage that oddly resembles the hayrides I used to take at fall festivals as a kid. On either side of me are huge, impossibly muscular men watching me intently.

         “What’s going on?” I ask the tall man, who is seated across from me in the carriage.

         “Congratulations.” He says cryptically, flashing that evil grin again.

         “Huh?”

         “It’s your wedding day!” He tells me. The carriage’s other occupants congratulate me as well, offering me their best wishes. The somber, foreboding mood seems to have lifted, giving way to a celebratory air.

         …What?!?

         The carriage comes to a stop outside a large stone castle, and my guards grab me roughly by my arms again and drag me inside. The castle doors open to a picturesque wedding scene, straight out of a bridal magazine. Nearly everything in the room is white, aside from the hot pink bouquet of peony’s I’m holding so tightly I’ve nearly crushed their stems. The brightness of the scene blinds me and I stumble down the isle, tripping over my wedding dress and nearly twisting my ankle in my high heels.

         I finally make my way to the altar after the most awkward wedding march in history. I turn to face my groom and nearly faint at the sight of him.

         This has got to be a joke.

         But it isn’t.

         “You’re Charlie Sheen.” I tell him matter-of-factly.

         Charlie Sheen raises an eyebrow at me, as if I’d just said something insanely obvious.

         At least I’m marrying young, studly Charlie Sheen instead of old, cokehead Charlie Sheen.

         I ignore that last thought, refusing to see the bright side of this situation.

         “I am so, so not marrying you!” I scream, tossing my inappropriately colored bouquet to the ground and stomping on it. I tug the impossibly poofy skirt of my dress up over my knees and run for the exit. My guards grab me within two steps though, and hold me in place at the altar while I kick and scream.

         I’m not sure how smoothly the rest of the ceremony went, but I do know that the only thing I vowed to do was castrate my new husband the second I had the chance.

         After we’re pronounced husband and wife, Charlie and I are whisked out of the castle and loaded into a limousine.

         “Are you out of your mind?” I scream at my husband, removing my heel to chuck it at him. “Who the hell would want to marry you? I didn’t even get to pick my numbers! That’s totally not fair! And how the hell are we in a limousine? I thought this was the middle ages? Hey, are you listening to me?”

         Charlie completely ignores my rant and starts pulling neon-colored strips of cloth out of his pockets. He hands bright pink ones to me, which I stare at dumbly.

         “Do you want to make it there in one piece or not?” He asks, frustrated. I slowly reach out to take his offering, which only makes him more annoyed. “Just get ready.” He snaps at me, turning away to roll down his window. I do the same, though I have no idea what’s going on.

         “Ready?”

         No.

         “Okay, now!” He says, throwing his pink strips out of the window one at a time. I copy his actions, very much wanting to get wherever we’re going in one piece. “Now blue!” He tells me, throwing another pile at me. I start throwing them out the window, not realizing I’m actually throwing yellow ones until it’s too late.

         “Whoops.” I say, smiling sheepishly at the furious look on Charlie’s face.

         “Are you insane?” He yells, just as gunfire fills the air.

         “What’s happening?” I yell back as he shoves me onto the floor of the car and covers my body with his.

         “You just got us killed, that’s what!” He screams into my ear. “How could you throw yellow ribbons in the blue gang’s territory? Do you hate being married to me so much that it’s made you suicidal?”

         “No!” I cry, my voice breaking with frightened tears. “I don’t know what’s going on! Gangs? What gangs?”

         The car bumps and shakes, sliding onto two of its wheels and making me scream. Charlie curses under his breath and pins me to the floor as the limousine flips. It lands upside down and I end up on top of Charlie. I look down at him, but he’s clearly not conscious and beneath his head is a rapidly growing pool of blood.

         “Charlie?” I ask tearily, shaking his shoulders lightly. “Charlie.” I shake him harder, but he doesn’t respond.

         I’ve killed him!

         The next thing I know, I’m back in my own bed, in my own room.

         “Get up, Nicole!” Thomas groans, smacking me in the chest with his arm. I reach over and turn off my screeching alarm clock, to which he mumbles his gratitude.

         “Dude,” I tell him, shaking the arm that he threw across my chest. “I had the weirdest dream.”

         “What was it?” He asks into his pillow, opening one eye to look at me.

         “I married Charlie Sheen.” I say, giggling slightly. He stares at me for a long moment.

         “Go to work, crazy.” He tells me, rolling over to go back to sleep. I giggle again and lean over him to kiss his cheek before rolling out of bed and stumbling to the shower.