Evanescent

Disclaimer and Trigger Warning: This work contains a reference to trauma, psychological abuse and suicide, and may trigger some individuals. Adult language warning. Any similarity between characters and real life people is coincidental. This is a work of fiction and I hope you enjoy it. -Sia

1 Day After

“That’s what they do. Fuck her and move on. She’s a piece of shit. She’s everything you want and need until she’s in your head, then acts like a dominant ass that makes everything your fault. Fuck those people. Seriously.” I nodded at my brother’s words as if he could see me. It amazed me how such a short-lived relationship caused so much damage to my psyche. I’d known Mona less than four months, and felt as though I’d been in a yearlong, abusive marriage with both her and her best friends. I wanted to know how she’d garnered so much loyalty from these people. The wondering was driving me crazy.

“I blocked her on everything. I really just need to move on. My head is so fucked up right now, I’m starting to wonder if all of this is really my fault. I don’t know what to do,” I said and sighed heavily.

“You get rid of them. Letting it matter to you is what feeds them. Just block them all and let them die.” He has a way with words, my brother but he was right. Dwelling on this, constantly trying to talk it out with Mona was a waste of time and my emotions. The most aggravating thing about this was, I saw red flags from the beginning. The more I thought about it, the more painfully obvious they became.

“I feel like an idiot. I mean, the first time we ever spoke we had a misunderstanding. I was making jokes, and she got really offended so I apologized and moved on, but I don’t know, we talked after that. Things were going so well. I really liked her, you know. This whole thing is just a giant bag of dicks,” I said. I sighed again and ran my hand through my short, unkept hair.

“You deserve better all around.”

“I told Holly everything Mona said about her behind her back. I don’t know if it will do anything. She didn’t respond, but I got a nasty message from Mona this morning on HoosApp. Called me a deranged freak. Like, seriously? I’m the deranged freak? You got to be hella petty to unblock someone long enough just to get that across.”

“Yeah, I’d say so. She’s probably taking advantage of all of you. You were taken for a ride, and she’s not healthy. Cut that cancer out. She’s really taken advantage of your emotions. You can’t win with her. She kept goading you into defending yourself and then made you feel like garbage when you did. You did what any adult should do and apologized for your mistake. Now, she’s just dangling it over you to make you feel bad.”

“You’re right. I can’t believe I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You saw the red flags, but she kept manipulating it around to make you feel guilty for questioning her ‘majestic’ authority. Her attempt at separating the people involved with the drama, and act like the unbiased party is exactly how a manipulator keeps power. If you’re all at odds with one another, she has power over all of you. There’s no way for you all to collaborate and realize she’s playing a game.”

“Honestly, I think Holly is being manipulated just like me. Owen on the other hand, was totally loving it. All the drama started with him in the first place.”

“Did you notice how Mona never asked how your day was? Every time you asked her however, the response is always the same: ‘woe is me. Look how I suffer. Look how much I go through, but the important thing here is your flaws’. She just wanted you to feel sorry for her and her suffering.”

“I’m shaking my head right now. Things were really good. It just sucks, the whole being disillusioned thing.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry this happened to you. Listen, Ezra, I have to feed the goat and get groceries. Don’t let those bitches get under your skin. You’re too good for that. I’ll check in later. I love you.”

“I love you.” The end button “booped” and I let myself fall back on my bed. I was glad I had a brother like Abel. I was grateful for his perspective and advice. Even when I’m wrong in a situation, I can rely on his honesty and truth. My two friends, Jesse and Fish, had been supportive, even if all they could do was listen. Mona probably assumed, or hoped I’d be completely alone in my misery, her personal punishment for me. Well, joke’s on her. I shook my head as I laid there. My resolve was absolute but didn’t make me feel any better about the whole situation. I’d been had. Again. Same shit, different narcissist. I got up and walked over to the closet to change into sweats. I looked at the cute, little lingerie outfit I’d gotten to surprise Mona with. I laughed out loud, then all at once I was sobbing; warm snot running down over my lips, tears running down my face soaking the collar of my tee shirt; a much-needed ugly cry.

7 Days Later

I like Meredith. She’s nice; down to earth. Typically, I avoid female shrinks because women judge each other more harshly than any other group of people. If I go to therapy, I don’t want to be judged. I want to be validated. I didn’t feel judged by Meredith. I felt like I was being heard for a change.

Meredith is in her early fifties. She likes listening to Dido and Carly Simon, she’s been married for 20 years, and her son goes to college in Boston. A normal lady with no judgement bone in her body.

“So, you spent a couple days in the psych department. Do you feel it helped?” she asked.

I didn’t say anything. The truth is, it’s embarrassing as hell; a bitch putting me in the hospital and she never laid a hand on me. I mean, I wouldn’t want that or even prefer it, but it just seems like a more legit reason to be there.

“Ezra?” she smiles and waits.

“Sorry, yeah. I was at the hospital for a little while. It didn’t really help, or not help. I mostly just feel dumb for going.”

“Why do you feel dumb?”

“I don’t know. I guess maybe there are other people who have worse issues. They could have used the room for someone else. I just feel like I was being baby sat and they didn’t give me my meds, er, well they gave me my anti-depressant but not D three, or a multivitamin. I asked the nurse, and she said, ‘we don’t do that’. What does that even mean? It’s a hospital, you know, a beacon of wellness?”

“Okay. First thing, I don’t think you should feel dumb at all. Other people who may or may not have needed the room more is irrelevant. You felt like you needed to go for your own safety and wellbeing. That’s a positive thing. Perhaps you’re actually seeing things as not being as bad as you initially thought they were, which is good. That’s also a positive thing Ezra. The other thing I’d like to talk about, if you want, is how you ended up there in the first place.”

“I drove.”

“Yes, but what I’m asking is, what was going on the night you decided to go?”

“Oh. I was crying, pretty hard. I was going to change clothes and I looked at this cutesy outfit I bought. I was going to take pictures of myself in it, send them to… assbag,” I said, and shook my head.

“And by ‘assbag’ you mean?” I start to laugh.

“Mona. Mona is assbag,” I say still chuckling. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. It’s just amusing to hear other people talk like we do.”

“We?”

“My brother, and me. I feel like we just make up funny sounding names to call people because it’s so much more interesting than calling someone asshole or jerk.” She has a smile on her face which fades to concern.

“You were looking at a cute outfit, and then what happened?”

“I don’t know, I just started ballin’ like a baby. I mean, like really crying. Snotty, red-faced, tears soaking my collar. I was a mess all of a sudden. And I just grabbed my pill box. Some I take still, some I just have left over from my back injury, and the ones I’m supposed to take when the vertigo makes me dizzy, and I was figuring out how much of everything I had, and if they’d kill me or not. Then I realized I felt okay about it, about dying I mean. And it scared the shit out of me. I haven’t felt like dying in over year, and then all of a sudden, not only do I want to die but I’m okay with that?” I paused, and she waited. “I’ve always been the person to think it’s so sad when people kill themselves because there’s so much in the world to do, places to see, experiences to have; that’s a lot to just give up and there I was, a hypocrite counting pills.” I could feel the tears coming, welling up and spilling over like overfilled pools. Meredith held a box of tissues out to me. I took a couple and muttered, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Ezra. It’s okay to cry. Nobody can see you but me, and I don’t mind,” she said and smiled sympathetically.

“It scared me so bad, I threw on a jacket and ran out to my car and drove to the hospital,” I said through my tears and shrugged. “I was there for three days, and now here we are.” I sniffled and waited for Meredith to respond.

“Hm, it sounds like you’ve really been through the wringer emotionally. How long were you and Mona together before all this happened?”

“We weren’t together at all. She referred to us as friends with potential, and by potential, she meant romance, after we had both organized our own respective lives.”

“And what did she mean by that exactly? Organize your life?”

“Well, for me it was taking care of the debts I have. I had mentioned I wanted to lose the extra weight I gained, so getting healthy, and I have plans to move out of my grandmother’s house. And for her, I guess it was working on her depression. I can’t honestly think of what else. I mean, she was always talking about all the shit that was wrong in her life. She hates her siblings for various reasons, her mom is going senile, her cat is dying, her friend is dying which is news to me by the way. She never even mentioned that until she was telling me to fuck off. I mean, it goes on and on. It got to a point I just lost track, and all I felt was sympathy and sadness for her, all the time. I mean, I started to resent asking her how she was doing, but I wanted to be a good friend, so I asked anyway. I don’t think she ever said anything happy. I think the most positive thing she ever said was ‘I’m tired’. I sighed heavily. “Things got so messed up, so fast.”

Meredith looks at her watch. “I hate to stop you there, but I have another client coming in. I’d like to start seeing you once a week for a little while though, so we can really work through this. Is that okay?” I nod. I didn’t want to say no, but I told her I wanted to die. It was inevitable that she would want to see me more often. “If you need to talk before then, you can always call my office,” she said and smiled, her blonde-grey hair fell somewhat over her face. Meredith looks like a mom. I think that’s why I like her. I got up, and the old, comfortable loveseat creaked lightly. I walked to the door where Meredith stood holding it open. “See you next week, Ezra. Everything is going to be okay,” she said. Meredith gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze as I walked by. I gave her a small smile and said thanks.

4 Months Ago

“Geez, everyone is so easily offended these days… That’s why I don’t get along with other millennials,” I think to myself, but still, I felt bad. I very clearly offended this person which is never my intention when I interact online. Maybe most people hide behind the anonymity the web provided, but I tried to keep it real. So, I typed a quick apology to EightBitSamuri: “I’m sorry I offended you. Have a good rest of your night.” Short and sweet. I knew we wouldn’t be friends. I was in a good place in life. I worked in the mental health field, and just didn’t have the patience for people who were a bit emotionally unstable outside of my career.

I’m not a bully but I am a comedian of sorts. Sometimes, I’m too much for some people. I know this, and I’m the type to make amends. Jesus H. Christ though, it’s the internet. If someone makes a joke, take it for what it is; a joke. I was watching Battle-Loaf’s gaming stream, a girl I’d met earlier on when I started streaming video games. We weren’t close or anything, but I stopped in once in a while to say hi. She seemed like a nice girl. EightBitSamuri and Battle-Loaf had met at some point and became instant best friends. I figured, if this girl was cool with Loaf, she was cool with me, so I went to my go to icebreaker: jokes. Details are sometimes hard for me to remember, but I do remember Eight saying something about liking girls but girls not liking her because she was ugly, or something to that effect. I wound up saying something like, ”Maybe you should try guys,” which was honestly only half a joke. I mean, it could just be she was barking up the wrong tree.

I knew from an early age that I was gay. I didn’t need to have sex with anyone to know that, but people like my brother for instance, are open to the possibility of having a sexuality that differed from the norm. He experimented with a friend and found he was indeed straight, and he never needed to experiment again. Some people just have to know for sure.

The bantering between Eight and I continued for a few moments until a direct attack was launched at me. My handle is PinkPineapple, and Eight said something about me being a “bondage butt plug”. Truthfully, I wasn’t insulted. I think the worst thing that happened was the image my brain created. There couldn’t honestly be people who enjoyed being tied up with pineapples up their butt, but hey, one man’s fruit is another man’s kink, I guess. I’m not an idiot, and while I hadn’t taken any offense, it was obvious I had caused some. I apologized via the stream chat but was met with silence. Even Loaf spoke directly to Eight, but to no avail. After no answer, I simply told Loaf to have a good night. I wasn’t there to disturb her friends and regulars. I left peacefully.

Sometime later, I received a DM (direct message) from Eight. It read, “Sigh, okay, look, I was taking a long time to reply because I was playing a video game with a friend. But yeah, I'm having a bad day so I'm not responding too well to teasing. Also, lewd stuff really doesn't jive with me due to some personal trauma. So, it's not your fault. I've just had a depressing day, so don't worry about it. You're good.”

I remember thinking it read like a mild guilt trip, and that it was odd that she was not okay with “lewd” jokes after having used “bondage” and “butt plug” together in a sentence but in all honesty, it didn’t matter that much to me at the time. We were, after all, nobodies to each other.

I didn’t talk to her again after that for a while. I didn’t have a reason to, but unknown to me, she’d been lurking my streams, subtly getting to know me. Truth be told, I had watched her streams too, and then we started talking to each other. She’d mentioned trauma the first time we talked. I guess that’s why I kept her in mind. My former stepfather is a pedophile and I had been his regular victim up until he moved to Oregon. I understood sexual trauma, and the way it fucked you up for life. I’d already done a great deal of healing in the last decade, but it was apparent to me that Eight hadn’t really had a chance to do the same. She was an enigma; a puzzle I had to figure out, if only to help her move forward. And this, is one of my biggest flaws.

4 Months Later, Some Time After Therapy

What would make you feel happy right now? A drink at the bar? Netflix and chill with your girlfriend? A wild night at the casino, or maybe cuddling with your cat? These all sound like great things to me, but what really makes me happy is peaceful solitude. There’s no one to impress, no one I have to explain things to. I can soar across space and time and ponder the secrets of the universe.

After seeing Meredith, I drove to the cemetery in the city. I’m not one of those people who relish in sitting around buried dead people. This cemetery has a fountain, walking paths, and this giant oak tree that has to be at least a hundred years old, and that’s where I found myself sitting. The breeze was cool, but it was sunny, a perfect autumn day. I sat wearing ear buds listening to pop rock, feeling the wind blow across my short, dark brown hair tickling my scalp. I sat with my legs straight out, crossed at the ankle. The music sounded like white noise, and I felt sort of numb. I idly let my last conversation with Mona play over in my mind. I wanted to understand what it was about me that attracted people like Mona. People that ultimately disrespected, insulted, and used me. I almost felt bad for what I said, but after every shitty thing she’d said to me in four months, I think she deserved it.

I closed my eyes and listened to the music until the lyrics had meaning again. I felt like I was falling asleep, but I didn’t mind. I hadn’t slept well in three weeks. I was exhausted. I was suddenly annoyed with Mona. She’d been talking about how exhausted she was every single time we spoke in the three weeks before The End. How could she say I had a ‘me’ mentality? She could have cared less how exhausted I was, or what I had going on. She never even asked. Everything changed after the Big Drama. Forgiveness, and second chances don’t exist in Mona’s world unless she’s the one demanding it, then it’s expected; and what a garbage human being you are if you don’t extend that courtesy to her.

I had to stop. I was aggravating myself. I had to let it go because I was never going to get an apology; I was never going to understand Mona and having the desire to do so was decidedly unhealthy. I needed to reflect upon myself. I thought about the good stuff instead, before the Big Drama. I would have worked three jobs just to save the money to visit Mona or buy a plane ticket for her to come here. She was cute, funny, witty and she has this slight gap between her teeth that I just thought was so adorable. I only told her that once though because she personally hates it. My gaming streams were exciting, and I found myself starting early some days just so I could talk to her. It didn’t take long before I was crushing. I hadn’t had fuzzy feelings for anybody in a long time, and it felt good.

The wind and the music softly lulled me to sleep, and I let it. It was one of those weird sleeps when you’re wholly aware of it and yet, you’re not conscious to the waking world. My thoughts about Mona, turned into thoughts about things unrelated, which turned into unrelated images as I slipped into a dream. I opened my eyes and I was awake but I wasn’t because the world around me looked vaguely familiar and yet it wasn’t the world, I existed in.

The sky was violet, but not the color of a violet crayon; a translucent violet, and it looked as if it was stuck in permanent twilight. It was strange and beautiful. Then I realized I was me, but not quite me. I looked at my hands and arms. My tattoos were gone and the mood ring I used to wear as a child glittered on my ring finger. It was like I was twelve again. “Oh god, please tell me I’m not twelve again!” I thought to myself. I felt anxious. I just wanted to wake up. I started walking slowly forward, looking all over the place, but for what, I didn’t know. “Wake up, wake up wake up…” I chanted quietly. I started sprinting. I was panicking now.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something coming towards me. I turned to look, but there was nothing. I continued to search until the long grass distracted me. It was blue! It was the color, and only slightly more solid, than a tropical, aquamarine ocean. I brushed my hands through it, and it felt as though I was dipping my fingers into warm bath water, but my hands remained dry. I brushed my hands through it again, and again. It calmed my panic.

I have a thing for textures and touching them, sliding my hand into a bucket of glass beads, the squishy, cool wetness of slime, the godly softness of high thread count sheets. As a matter of fact, when I find myself feeling up some poor, defenseless texture, I can get completely lost and distracted by it for a while. I am nothing, if not a weirdo.

There I was, stroking this alien grass when I saw it again, whatever it was. This time, however, it didn’t disappear. It, a dog perhaps, was coming right towards me. As the animal got closer, I realized it was in fact a dog, but not just any dog. This dog was every color of the rainbow and then some. The best way I can describe its fur was psychedelic; a trippy, hippy kaleidoscope of magical goodness. The dog ran, but its paws didn’t touch the ground. It was beautiful and everything about this dog made me think of all things good and pure. I was not afraid, but rather in awe of this magnificent creature. It slowed to a walk and approached me the way any happy dog would: excited, tongue hanging out, tail wagging so hard its butt wiggled. I took in the sight of this dog and noticed it was medium sized, had dainty paws, long hair, ears that stood up slightly and folded in the middle, a tail that curved up and fur that dangled down from it. Despite the wild, vibrant colors of the dog’s fur, its eyes were soft pools of chocolate brown that radiated unconditional love.

“Ezra!” it exclaimed. “It’s you! You’re really here!” The dog had a lovely, feminine voice. We stared at each other for a moment. It dawned on me that she looked exactly like my childhood pet, except she’d had black fur with streaks of grey, the only indication she was an old dog. Everything else was right. Every fiber of my being knew this dog. I tilted my head, unsure if I was right, and said, “Poppy?”

“Ezra!” she answered. I kneeled down to hug her. The hug lasted but a moment before the ground beneath us began to shake suddenly and crack apart. It was as though the mositure had spontaneously dried up. The sky began to swirl and blacken to the shade of a deep purple bruise, a strong wind began to blow. The beautiful, aquamarine grass withered and died.

“What’s happening?” I said, fear washing over me. Poppy hunched down to the ground, a low growl escaped her. I rose and turned, squinting against the wind, and tried to focus on whatever it was Poppy saw. I could see a dust storm of some kind, and it was heading straight for us. “What is that? What do we do?” I shouted.

“That is pure evil, and you must leave. Now!” she shouted over the increasing volume of the wind.

“Leave? What do you mean leave?” I shouted back.

“There’s no time to explain Ezra ! Go! Go back! Before it’s too late!”

“Go where? What do you mean?”

“Just run! Turn around and run!”

“B-but, w-what about you?” I shouted but the wind had become so loud, my words were lost. The cloud of dark purple dust was just out of reach. My legs were like jelly. The proximity of the dust cloud made me feel as though I’d swallowed a poisonous cocktail of hate, sadness, shame, self-loathing, and the desire to die. The storm was close enough now that I could make out the shapes of people, but I realized whatever creatures these were, they were not people. They were impossibly tall, with eyes that were blindingly white, they were all black as if they’d been dipped in ink. They had long, claw like fingers that seemed to ooze. One gazed at me, and I made the terrible mistake of looking it in the eye. I was pulled into a kind of trance. The weight of the dark feeling was starting to crush me, and although the creature didn’t appear to have a mouth, I heard its voice penetrating my mind, “Stupid girl, did you think we wouldn’t find you? You disgust me. Look, at you, so weak, so easily manipulated. It is all your fault, all of it. Nobody loves you. Sick, worthless, deranged. You should just kill yourself. You can’t change. A waste of space is always a waste of space. Fuck off, and die…” The voice continued, but somehow, I realized that the other creatures had also begun to chant all the horrible things in existence. I couldn’t look away, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. I had a splitting pain in my head, and realized the creature was so close now, right in front of me staring into my eyes, its long claw-like fingers were physically penetrating my skull. I opened my mouth in a silent scream. I was dying.

A burst of light blinded me, and I became aware that I was flying backward. I hit the ground so hard, it knocked the air out of my lungs. I was no longer in the trance however, and I became aware of my surroundings once more. I sat up slowly. The burst of light had thrown me quite a distance away. I could still see Poppy and the creatures. There was a circular glow, a bright aura around Poppy. The burst of light had come from her. She had saved me from them. She looked at me briefly, and in my mind, I now heard her voice, “Run.” I scrambled up from the ground. My lungs burned for more air, I thought my head would split down the middle, but god damned if I didn’t run faster than I’d ever ran in my whole life. I had no clue where I was going. I just knew the evil was behind me. My heart sank. Poppy was alone, fighting what could be an indefinite number of evil creatures. I heard Poppy yelp in the distance. I turned to see what had happened but before I could get a clear view, a sink hole opened in the middle of the ground, and I tripped right in.

I fell for what seemed like hours. I was almost used to the sensation of falling when the hole tilted and I was falling forward, if that makes any sense. I felt like throwing up. Suddenly I was in space, like an astronaut but with no suit and no oxygen. I could see the earth. I was in awe. It was like I was seeing the planet for the first time. I wanted to cry, and for a moment I forgot I was suffocating.

I jolted awake, and fresh, cool air forced its way into my aching lungs. I gasped as if I was a newborn baby experiencing oxygen for the first time. I jumped up so fast, my cellphone flung to the ground tearing the buds from my ears and I was instantly overcome with severe dizziness. I reached out and steadied myself against the oak tree until it passed. I looked up and it was in fact the oak tree I’d been sitting against. A normal, mundane oak tree in a normal, mundane cemetery in a run of the mill New England city. I picked up my cellphone and brushed the dirt off. My nap was no more than five minutes long. “What. The. Actual. Hell?” I said out loud. It was by far the most bizarre dream or perhaps nightmare I had ever had, and I have some pretty outlandish dreams.

“Right. It is most definitely time to go home now,” I said to no one. I was so wired, I practically sprinted to my car. I couldn’t wait to get home and take some Tylenol because my head was killing me.

Ghosts And Stuff

I was five years old, and I remember my teacher asking me to take a note to another teacher down the hall. I got to do stuff like this often. I was a good, obedient child. I always felt so proud of myself after delivering a note. I even got to walk there myself and walk back myself. On one such occasion, I was walking down the hall, bobbing my head from side to side, making my ponytail swish. When I neared my classroom, I felt as if someone took hold of my ponytail, and let it slip from their fingers. I don’t remember being scared, but I was very confused to find no one behind me or anywhere else in the hall when I turned around. Kids are resilient and trusting. I simply went to class, and I never said a word about it. Twenty-five years later, I still wonder about that day.

Occurrences like this have always been a part of my life. Feeling a presence, feeling a touch when I’m alone; all very normal in my book. As a matter of fact, I don’t believe I’m special in any way. I think all humans are attuned to the supernatural, but as a whole we’ve lost touch with the esoteric world.

Every cellist in the world had to start from scratch. Almost any person can become a cellist with practice, and dedication but not every cellist can play like Yoyoma. That’s something you’re born with. Some people are more sensitive to the supernatural than others. Some people are mediums, some are shamans, some are fortune tellers. I can see glimpses of the future and sometimes the past, but mostly my dreams gave me messages in the most unusual ways.

I’d seen Poppy before in a dream, but I can only remember one part and I can’t remember what she’d even said. The difference between that dream and the one at the cemetery is, the cemetery felt real. I remember every detail as clearly as I see the trees outside my window. I went home that evening with my head pounding and my body aching. Never had a dream left me in such a condition. How could it? I just have an extremely vivid imagination, right? Something was very off about this dream. I wanted to go back to that place and figure it out. I didn’t want to feel what the shadow people had done to me, but I remembered the way Poppy cried out. What if she was a prisoner somewhere? Or worse still, what if she was dead? It would be all my fault. She told me to run. Why didn’t I just run when she told me to? Oh yes, because I’m an idiot. I shook my head. It was a dream, just an everyday, hyper-realistic, physically painful dream. I didn’t believe my own thoughts. I could rationalize this all day long and it would still sound like bullshit.

I often wonder if I am crazy. I’ve heard on several occasions though that if you have to ask, you probably aren’t but if the secular world saw my mind, they would label me clinically insane but with sound mind, I can honestly say I see the future but only small parts that don’t seemingly have any meaning. I call them glimpses.

When I was nineteen or maybe twenty, my younger brother and I went to the gas station to gas up my old VW Golf. We were pretty broke at the time and so we were getting one gallon of gas, paid for with change. A good portion of the change was pennies. I had one of my “glimpses” and saw the clerk taking the silver coins but refusing to take the pennies. At the time, my glimpses were still new to me and sometimes I couldn’t tell if I was just thinking or if I was in fact seeing the future. I disregarded it and sent my brother in with all the change anyway. Not five minutes later, he came back to the car with the change.

“The dude wouldn’t take the pennies. Let’s just go somewhere else”, my brother said. As we drove to a different station, I told my brother about what I saw in my mind’s eye. From that point on, I made a sincere effort to teach myself the difference between my thoughts and the glimpses.

Seeing the future is just one thing. As far back as I can remember, I have always felt the presence of unseen entities in a space and whether or not their intentions are pure or malicious. I don’t believe myself to be special, or a superhero. I believe I have abilities most humans have if we were, as a society, open to the supernatural. I can’t explain it anymore than I could when I was five. Where does it come from? The gods? The universe? Aliens? Who knows? And now, I had dreams that left me physically injured? How very 'Nightmare on Elm Street'.. Despite how awful and scary the dream had been, I wanted to go back if only for the sake of Poppy. The problem was, how do I go back? I didn’t even understand how I got there in the first place.