Hanging on to the Dream

Hanging on to the Dream

Floating up to consciousness, eyes closed, I began to hear an unusual sound. Was it the wind? It felt early, quiet, the way ‘too early’ usually feels, but the sound was wrong.

Determined not to open my eyes until I figured it out I lay there listening, dozing a bit too. I’d stayed up too late again. That movie was a riot. Yes, I’d seen it before but it was just as funny the third time.

Listening again, I began to play with the sound. I imagined it being different things. Mice, no, that would be creepy. Flying saucers? Tiny flying saucers that snuck into my room through the air vents? I had to laugh at how beings from outer space seemed more acceptable to me than mice.

I mean mice are cute, but in cages. Crawling through the walls, maybe not so cute. Besides it wasn’t a squeaky sound, not even a wooshy sound really. It was more a plopping sound, but a quiet plopping. A soft quiet plopping. Kind of like the plopping sound a foot makes when it plops up carpeted steps just wearing socks. I had to laugh a little bit at that too. Soft, plopping, stocking covered feet plopping up carpeted steps, coming to get me.

I could just imagine it being a person, my mother maybe, coming up the stairs to tell me I had to get up. I had to get ready for school or something, or I would be late! I almost laughed out loud, such a cute silly dream. My mother waking me up for school.

But then I heard it.

“Get up! You need to get ready for school! You’re going to be late.”

My lovely dream did come true, unfortunately, but it was not very lovely anymore.