Monday, February 15, 2010

What Dreams May Come



Usually, I collapsed and saw nothing when I slept. I saw darkness during those hours. There were no dreams or nightmares. Lately though, I’ve been plagued by a single dream. A dream that involved two characters I created over a year ago and now they’ve returned.

The dream was merely a scene from the story about twin sisters, who wanted to be rockstars. They were stuck in a small apartment that was in shambles. The apartment had wallpaper that peeled like oranges, but didn’t have the same sweet smell. The smell was of wet mold and decay. Rats scurried into their hiding places and scratched their claw marks onto the wooden floors. All these two sisters had to sleep on was a single bed and a couch, which had too many stains and tears to count.

Megan, the older twin by only a few minutes, practiced her guitar on the couch. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail and she was in her comfortable gray sweatpants that were not like those tight outfits she wore onstage. She tried to sing along to the beat but couldn’t find the right words. They didn’t escape her mouth or her mind. She had a spiral notebook on her lap and continued to scratch words onto the paper, then would erase them with an elegant dash across the page. She flipped to the next blank sheet when there was no room to write and had a new start, a clean slate.

Sonia, the younger twin, just barged in. She slammed the door and didn’t answer Megan’s calls. Sonia was obviously troubled as she entered the bathroom. She clicked the lock into place.

Megan rushed to the door and banged her fists like hammers. The wooden door creaked only and didn’t fall down. Megan called out, “Sonia, open up!” She barraged the door with fury. “Where the hell were you?”

Sonia didn’t answer. She just stared into a mirror in the dimly lit bathroom. In the mirror, she saw the green wallpaper behind her; it was covered in white flowers and dark smudges. Sonia saw her pale reflection and her long, blonde hair cover her eyes. She pushed her hair away from her face and behind her ears. She then saw her bloodshot eyes. Her eyes that stared back at her pale skin. She couldn’t handle the rockstar life. It was too much for her.

“Sonia,” Megan continued to bang and started to cry, “please, just talk to me.”

Sonia put one finger on her cheek and guided it through her entire face. She tried to feel something: pain, happiness, sadness, anything. She couldn’t feel at all. Her face and mind were numb. Her thoughts were erased like a chalkboard after class. She could not remember what drug she had taken to make her feel this way. She could not remember who gave it to her. She could not remember how she even found her way back home. Her thoughts raced across her mind as she tried to remember what was happening, what had happened, and what was about to happen. Then, everything froze for her.

Another bang was heard in the apartment, but it was not Megan’s pounding fists. It came from the bathroom. Sonia had fallen into an unconscious state and Megan knew it. Megan knew Sonia had a drug problem, but never addressed it and instead ignored it. Megan panicked for a moment; she screamed and cried to God, “What the hell am I supposed to do? Why? Why? Why?”

Megan examined the room for objects to break the door with, but then had noticed the telephone. She ran because this time her sister’s life depended on it. She dialed the number: 911.

That’s how my dream ends. It has been recurring every night for five nights now. Obviously, Megan and Sonia want me to write about their story. My characters talk to me, whether it’s in my dreams or through my waking moments.

They speak; I listen. I don’t really have a choice. Is it a gift or a curse?

Megan and Sonia have a story to tell to the world and they have to wait like the rest of my characters. Right now, I think by telling you, my reader, a scene from their story will suffice with them for now. Maybe now I can go back to sleep.

Good night.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

We get it! You have a lot of ideas! Why don't you write about these ideas rather than yourself for once! How about you write their stories when you 'wake up' and find the time!

Vatche said...

This blog, Anonymous, is about my experiences as a writer. I have many stories already written down, just not published, and I'm not planning on publishing them on this blog. I also have stories that haven't been written yet. Sonia and Megan's story hasn't been written...yet, but I'm getting to it. I am only one person. I write everyday for 2-3 hours. I don't need you to tell me what I can and cannot write about either. Thank you for your comments though, they are appreciated.

Anonymous said...

we get it, ANON! You have lots of ideas about what vatche should write. why dont you 'wake up' and realize that this blog is about his 'experiences'. if you want his stories you can stalk him like all the other pedophiles with spare time.

-Rafi

Anonymous said...

btw the chick in the pic is hot. i dunno if its the guitar but im attracted! way to get more male readers vatche!

-Rafi

*Dreamer* said...

I really want to hear their story soon =) It's not a story I can relate to, but it definitely is one that I can empathize with and I'm sure you know why. Amazing altogether though =)

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