We all dream of ice cream

Your mother visits you in your dreams. Her arms tight around you, a little too tight, but you don’t mind. Her lips are soft as she presses them a little too firmly to your forehead. Your father is there too, he picks you up and holds you close to his heart. Thump, thump… thump, thump, his heart always beats a tad quicker when you’re in his arms. Exacerbating his existing arrhythmia. Now you are running through the grass, your parents watch with glee as you stumble and tumble. Undeterred, you prop yourself back up on all fours. The smell of fresh grass lingers in your nostrils while you look around for the friends you were chasing. Suddenly, you hear a slight chittering. Mere feet away, a gopher. Freshly popped from his hole. You can see your reflection in his obsidian eyes. He is watching you, waiting for your cue. But you are transfixed by the discovery of this new player. Who moves first? Will he? Won’t he? You cautiously take a step toward your new friend, careful not to spook him, but in the blink of an eye he disappears back into his hole. Did he even exist to begin with? Your friends run up to you, carelessly bumping into you, unable to stop from a full sprint. You tumble again, your ego ever so slightly bruised, but they don’t even notice. They are off again, running circles around you while you scoop yourself up from the soft grass. You give chase but they outpace you. You try to run as fast as you can but it’s like your legs are moving through water. Darkness streams in from every direction. It floods your eyesight until only your friends are visible, receding into the distance until the darkness swallows them too. For a time your sleep is too deep for dreams. You are mired in a vacuum opaque as a galaxy without stars. The emptiness that existed before you were born envelops and occupies your consciousness, even its absence will be unknown to you once you are gone.

Light bursts through once again, the tiniest pinhole in a smooth pitch-black expanse. It pulls you into itself ever faster, growing stronger and brighter as you approach. You emerge from the womb into shining light and the droning, whirring, ringing of a busy street. Blinded by the glaring sunlight you spin in place, straining your eyes for a familiar face. People pace the streets but refuse to look at you. Stepping over and around you by just enough to avoid touching you. Your heart beats in your ear and you try to swallow your saliva but can’t. Parched, the sun’s rays bear down on you with blows of overwhelming fatigue. The people’s faces are blurred as they speed past you. The buildings and smells of this place are foreign. Your breathing quickens, despite the heat your heart feels like a cold, heavy, sinking mass, drooping into your stomach. You stumble forward only to be buzzed by a passing truck, wrrroooshhh, the wind howls a warning of how close you came to death. All around you cars are honking, people are yelling. You gasp for air and take a few cautious steps away from the street. The pavement under your feet scalds your toes but the shadows of the looming buildings entice you like a cool breeze. The contrast of sharp sunlight and the shade is so dichotomous that you see nothing beyond the sun’s rays. As you step toward the shade you hear a low rumble. Somewhere in the distance a generator is running. You take another step toward the shade and the rumble coalesces into a snarl. A deep, mean snarl, the kind uttered low to the ground from a place of pure hatred. Whiskers, burned and fringed, emerge from the shaded darkness, followed by a discolored snout decorated by a scarred and scabbed nose. Crusty ears too ragged to perk up. Teeth, some broken, some missing, still gleam in the sunlight. One eye is an opaque milky mess while the other burns with the ire of a thousand suns. You back away but immediately feel the gust of passing vehicles, not one step closer, the wind whispers. You are stuck between a wall and impending death. You almost choke from the air caught in your lungs as your heart beats with no regard for your breathing pattern. The demon beast barks and leaps forward, its jaws snapping mere centimeters from your face. Another throaty snarl foreshadows an impending fatal blow and you collapse. Cowering, whimpering, dejected. Hoping only to be left alone.

When you open your eyes again the street is gone as is the devil’s hound. The darkness did not consume you between these dreams. You hear your parent’s voices in the distance. Someone is patting your head lightly. Anxiety and fear melt away as your heart slows down, what were you even afraid of? No matter now, your mother is smiling at you through an open door. She motions for you to follow her. You don’t want to keep her waiting so you extend your arms and legs to stretch out. A loud noise startles you from somewhere behind you. You want to turn your head and look but your mother is calling you from beyond the door, she seems impatient. Your father appears behind her, how did he get there? You stand up on all fours, unsure of your footing and follow your mother through the door. Suddenly you are in your house, the smells are all the same and the whirring of overhead ceiling fans is ever present. The neighbor’s dog is still barking, she doesn’t like you for some reason. As you follow your parents into the kitchen, your mother asks your father, “are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” he responds, “should we go out somewhere?”

“Yes!” Your mother loves going out, just like you.

You watch them carefully, ears perked up, maybe they’ll take you with them? Your father opens the fridge and pulls a bag out, “would you like some dinner little lady?” He asks you. But you don’t know those words yet. All you know is they haven’t changed out of their street clothes yet but have already taken off yours. A delightful smell permeates the room as your father opens the bag he took from the fridge, the fears and trepidations of your slumber are less than a distant memory. You can barely even recall where you were when you fell asleep. He scoops a heaving cup from the bag and drops it into your bowl. All you can see and smell is chicken and all you can hear is the blissful chomping of your jowls. Behind you a door closes but the sound is muffled by a wagging tail.