Dusty's Dream

Dusty sat in a corner and looked for his blanket. He hated it when his parents fought. Even though they were yelling at each other, and he knew that, he always felt as though they were yelling at him. George, his extraordinarily fat cat, lumbered toward him with a tremendous yawn and a purr like an engine. Hefting George onto his lap and rubbing the light layer of dust off his fur, Dusty pulled the blanket up over his head. It muffled the noise a little, and he liked it in the dark.

George’s purr filled up the small space underneath the blanket as Dusty scratched behind his ears and hummed a quiet tune. He managed to block out the yelling for a moment, and in the darkness and heat of his hiding place, with the drone of his cat’s purr in the background, Dusty fell asleep.

He dreamed of many things – of George when he was younger and thinner, of picnic days on the beach, of days when his parents got along… Some dreams were memories, others were founded in memories, but some were entirely his imagination.

He stepped out of a bright cabin with swirling clouds of dust in the sunlight and walked to the edge of a canyon. A river frothed below and a tall waterfall sparkled across the deep ravine, bending off course in the breeze. Dusty jumped. He dove down into the depths, feeling the wind on his face, feeling the shifting of his stomach, and knowing the river would catch him. It never let him sink.

The river accepted him gently and he floated on the surface. The flowing water carried him slowly down the canyon to open water and he sank below the surface in a pocket of air. As the sea settled him to rest in a net of seaweed, he slept in the darkness of the deep water.

Dusty woke to find himself in a dark, damp prison. It bothered him that he didn’t know why he was there, more than the fact itself bothered him. Footsteps interrupted his wondering, and he peered out to find a guard walking toward him.

“Please sir, do you know why I’m here?”

The guard laughed. “They don’t tell us all the details. And what do you need me to tell you for? You’d think you could remember something like that.” He kept walking and left Dusty in his cell, confused.

He felt a drop of water hit his head and he shivered. Curling up in a corner, he hugged his knees and shut his eyes tightly. A deafening rumble and crack startled him and his eyes flew open to a thick cloud of quickly settling dust. As it cleared, Dusty saw the jagged hole in the wall of his cell and the rain pouring down outside. Slowly, he rose on his unsteady feet and clambered out the hole.

He became more confident when the warm rain began to trickle down his face and the smell of wet earth reached his nostrils. He was heartened and empowered by the water’s glorious defeat of the dust.

He woke to George’s sharp teeth clamping down on his chin. The cat had his paws on Dusty’s chest, a very uncomfortable situation with a heavy-set feline, and was nibbling at his chin. Dusty reached a hand up to get George off his chest and settle him back into a more comfortable position. He faintly heard more yelling from the other room, but he threw the blanket off anyway. He looked at the column of dust his blanket created in his bedroom light and got to his feet, carrying a protesting George with him. As he looked outside, his parents’ voices faded from his ears; the rain began to pound harder and he opened his window to breathe the smell of wet earth.