Dreams of the Dark

“Time for school Sam”, his father yelled up the stairs. “You don’t want to be late again do you?” 

“No dad”, Sam sluggishly replied as he stumbled down the old creaky stairway from his room in the loft. Sam rubbed his eyes as he took a big yawn, displaying his exhaustion.

“Another bad night's sleep?” his dad questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I guess”, Sam replied, not wanting to say much more. He hasn’t slept much lately, especially the last few nights; tossing and turning in his sleep due to similar recurring dreams which are anything but pleasant. He wakes up tired and a little frightened at what he dreamt, or felt, the night before. Sam’s father has noticed his fatigue and is slightly concerned, but he’s never been good at saying what's on his mind, especially to Sam, so he just continues to clean up his breakfast dishes before heading to work. 

Sam and his father live on a small farm right on the edge of a quiet town, where his dad is a brilliant woodworker. He works diligently day after day in a rusty old barn out back where he creates a variety of beautiful pieces to sell to a few of the shops in the larger towns nearby. The locals know him well and lineup to order his one of a kind masterpieces. He wanted to teach Sam the love and labor of the woodworking trade, and still daydreams of father and son lovingly working side by side. Sam, on the contrary, has never shown any interest in his fathers artistry, much to his fathers disappointment.

Ever since Sam’s mother sadly passed away less than a year ago, Sam has been more reserved and isolated, alone with his thoughts and time. He hardly speaks with his father other than the usual daily greetings or over a hot meal, and he has since stopped spending much time with his friends at school. He leisurely takes the long way home from school, walking for hours until the daylight fades, usually returning home just in time for super. After an adequate meal (his father was never much of a cook but has incessantly tried) he routinely retires to his loft for the night and reads. Often he just lays across his bed staring into nothing and lets his thoughts slip away. He reflects about his mother, how his life was before her death, joyous and full, and how he feels completely and utterly lost without her. He knew that no matter how much his father tried, he could never replace in his heart where his mother had been. This feeling of emptiness left Sam feeling abandoned; alone. Coming home after school day after day and seeing his father had been a sorrowful reminder of her and what made his heart ache, so he chose instead to live in solitude, existing only for the next day, hoping things would get better, yet truly having no hope at all.

This day started out like any other day. Sam was nearly late for school, but made it just in time to slide into his seat seconds before the bell rang its warning cry. Sam diligently sat through his classes, trying to absorb his teachers' lessons while inadequately only half listening. He ate lunch with his friends while trying to avoid conversation as they spoke about their delightful weekend with their families at the county fair, and trying not to envy them for their tasty home cooked lunches made by their mothers. They all had mothers. And siblings. Families. What Sam was missing, and longing for; what he would never have. 

Sam took the long way home again after school, walking through the town and along its streets,  turning down the dirt path through the fields and farmland. It was a warm autumn day, and he let the sun soak into his skin as he walked. It was quite a beautiful town, with scattered farms and pasture and tiny forests of trees dotted about. The colors of the trees were changing from their usual greens to the colors of fire. The birds were singing their melodies, the crickets laying low in the grass and frogs patiently waiting for the rain to come. There was a family of deer in the meadow as he walked past, and a small bunny crossing the rocky road before him, but he gave only a quick glimpse to any of this. Some would say this was one of the most beautiful places in town, but Sam didn’t see it; he couldn't see it. He was blinded by his sorrow; he was a prisoner to it.

After dinner that evening Sam crawled up the stairs to his loft, changed into his sleeping clothes, and sprawled out along his bed. He said his prayers, but with newly formed indignation and distrust. After all, he thought, why bother? His life was not going to change, and what he wanted more than anything, he could never have. His mother was not coming back, that he knew. He decided not to read this night, as he was too tired from the little sleep he got the night before. He turned off the light, and lay there staring up at the ceiling, thinking his usual thoughts, of all the pain in his life. He was only 14 and had already experienced loss like no other. He didn’t think life could get any worse. How could it? Then he drifted off to sleep and the dream uninvitingly came back, again.

Sam quickly sat up, hearing the unmistakable sound of a train, the train. The same train that he dreamt about the last few nights. Or were they dreams? He wasn’t really sure. It was hard to decipher, but regardless, it was here. As the horn continued to blow its ominous cry, he could hear the creaking and clattering of the iron wheels as they came closer. He nervously looked around, seeing nothing but the black sky, dotted with faintly lit stars. He was aware that he was alone, in the stillness of the night, and he knew what was coming. As the train slowly rolled up towards him, it lurched then stopped;  the whistle hissing. He anxiously looked up and saw the now familiar gaunt face of a man, at least what appeared to be a man. He had a hollow skeletal-like face, with deep set sockets, where eyes once were. He was thin and his bones stuck out of his tattered clothing, showing that skin no longer appeared. He did not smile or speak a word, only stared at Sam with a look that told him he needed to get on. 

Sam glanced around again, hoping for some outlet, dreading boarding the train. He had ridden on this train before, and each experience was hauntingly the same. He rode alone through darkness, in quiet solitude, until approaching various people he knew, in what seemed like a mix of memories and present life.  Each time the train approached, it would slow long enough for Sam to glance out the window and take in what he saw.

Tonight as they crawled along the track at an upbeat pace, they approached a lady in a field. When he first saw it was his mother, he noticed her affectionate smile, kind eyes, and her unwavering beauty, standing in the dim moonlight with a smile across her face. Sam called out to her as he always did, straining his voice with tears welled up in his eyes, but she didn’t look; she never heard him. He cried out to her again as the train rolled on, stretching his arms towards her in desperation. Sam pleaded with the conductor to stop, but he too did not listen; did not acknowledge his words.

They continued in the dark, with sadness already overtaking Sam, when they approached the chattering of a group of people; his friends. They were running and playing with laughter, not a care in the world. Their families then appeared, surrounding each other and chatting at once; having a merry time. Sam’s heart welled up with silent rage, and he did not call out to them; instead he sat back in his seat with a pitiful frown on his face and contempt in his heart. He was too full of envy and resentment and longed to be far from them.

As he hunched over in the seat, seething with self pity, the train rounded a bend, and he could see out his window they were approaching a faint light. As the conductor slowed the dreary train, Sam could make out a man in the shadow, his father. He was vigorously working on something with concentration and Sam squinted his eyes to see more clearly. He never could make out what his father was creating. Watching his hands work, gently cradling the piece of wood while skillfully operating with his instruments, sweat dripping from his forehead, Sam saw his fathers devotion and gentleness. Sam often felt guilty for his resistance to his fathers love and continual attempts to bond, but he just couldn't let down his guard; break down the barriers he himself put up in order to prevent further pain and hurt. He thought that if he kept all who loved him at a distance, then he would not be vulnerable to experience loss the same as he had when his mother left him. Yet even in doing so he was still deeply hurting, every second of every day. He solemnly stared at his father while these thoughts flooded over him.

The train started to pull away, and head back to his reality as was usual in his dream, when Sam noticed something he had not seen before. He could see now what his father had been working on; a wooden box, with intricate details along the edges. He thought he made out what appeared to be writing on the top of the box, a carving of letters amidst an elaborate heart. He saw in his fathers face a sense of pride, but behind that pride, he also saw what resembled pain and sorrow. He finished carving the last details on the lid of the box, and stepping back and taking a look at his completed work, Sam saw a faint smile and a tinge of hope in his eyes. Then he set the box down and his smile faded into sorrow, and he sat on a lonely stool with his head in his hands. His shoulders began to shake, and Sam could tell he was crying. Sam wondered what made his father suddenly so sad when the train lurched forward and started to crawl into step. Sam glanced at his father one last time and saw what he had inscribed on the box, the name “Sam”. At that moment and truly for the first time since his mothers passing, he realized how much his father too was hurting. He wanted to say something to console him, but he didn't have the words, and even so, the train was moving on, leaving his father alone in the dark. 

  When the sun began to slowly rise the following morning, Sam lay in his bed pondering his dream the night before. Usually when he awoke from this dream he felt angry and sad, feeling sorrow only for himself, but today he felt different. The image of his father solemnly working hard in the night with sadness in his eyes, still lingered in his thoughts, and he tried to understand why he had never noticed this before. Was he too blinded by his own sorrow and emptiness to not see clearly his fathers pain? The sudden realization that he himself had unintentionally been hurting his father while trying to find his own joy, made him feel uneasy and regretful. Was it too late to resolve any hurt he had caused his father and mend their strained relationship? But the real question Sam wrestled with was, could he truly be happy once again, even in his circumstance, in this life that was before him, just as it was? 

Sam quickly awoke from his daydreaming when his father lightly rapped on his door and called out to him. “Sam”, he said in a hesitant voice, “You’re going to be late again if you don't get a move on”.  Sam struggled out of bed, shaking the thoughts from his mind. He joined his father downstairs for breakfast, this time looking at him different. “Everything alright?” his father asked, then continued. “Did you get a better night's sleep?” Sam looked down at his plate while picking at his food.

“I’m fine” He answered, then added “I slept ok I guess”.

Sam’s father shuffled in his chair and looking at Sam said, “I let you sleep in a little longer this morning. You better eat quickly so you can get to school”. Sam scarfed down his food, as he was surprisingly hungry, grabbed his books then headed towards the door. “I'll see you tonight for dinner” said his father, and Sam nodded his head and ran out the door.

Sam was in a fog all day at school, just waiting for the school day to end. When the final bell rang its celebration cry, Sam, along with all the other kids, ran outside in relief. Sam decided to head straight for home that day, walking through town and bypassing the usual dirt path that led to his solitude. This time he heard the birds chorus, noticed the auburn colors on the trees, and even formed a smile when he saw a funny caterpillar crossing the path. It was as if he was seeing the world for the first time, and his heart was light. 

When Sam arrived at the house, hours earlier than usual, he ran out back behind the house into the barn where his father was working. “Sam,” his father said with surprise. “What are you doing home so soon?” with a worried look in his eyes.

“I just thought maybe I could spend some time with you, you know, if you don’t mind. Maybe I could watch you work”. Sam’s father didn’t have to say anything, because the smile across his face and the forgiveness in his eyes said it for him. They spent the afternoon, just the two of them, working and talking, for what seemed like the first time.

Later that evening, after dinner was complete and the dishes done, Sam started up for his loft, but before going, his father said  shyly “Today was a great day Sam. Thank you”, and he suppressed  his emotions while waving Sam off to bed. Sam nodded in agreement and headed up the stairs for the night.

As he lay in bed he thought of the day, of his father, and how he felt. He felt different, renewed, almost whole. As he dozed off into a deep slumber, he began to drift away again to the place he feared.

The sky was dark and the stars were out, and he heard the faint sound of the eerie train as it grew louder and nearer. As he listened for the groaning of the wheels, he saw the train approach, and the man with the haunting eyes came to a halt before him. The conductor glared at Sam, waiting for him to board the train, but this time Sam hesitated. He just stood there, fixed where he was, his feet feeling heavy and not willing to move. Sam had never considered not boarding the train; it had never occurred to him before. But something was different; he was different. As the train continued to rumble the conductor stood looking at Sam, transfixed on him, waiting. Sam, with his apprehension, grounded himself and spoke out to the conductor. “I am not going with you tonight. I am not going with you ever again.”

The conductor spoke for the first time saying in a dark and questioning tone “What makes you think you don't have to?" Sam stood in the dark facing his fear, resilient in his decision, and responded with confidence.

“I am choosing another path”, and with that he turned on his heels and started to walk away in the unknowing depth of night. As he headed away from the train, he did not look back. He heard the train hiss and screech as it roared out of sight. It was the last time Sam ever saw it, and it was the beginning of a new life, one that he had never dreamt possible.