The Dream

The fog was warm and thick. She snuggled in it at first, not wanting to wake and pulled at the blanket covering her head. There came smouldering heat from her gut that gnawed at her to stir. Kelly grumped and fidgeted in her sleep, welcoming the lilt of her own sweet dozing breaths.   It was still dark but something inside her felt as if she'd been sleeping for a long time.  Her mind began to sputter; remembering the argument and how it had been so foolish; pointless. She frowned.


 It seemed that most of their fights were just that anymore. She winced at the awful things they'd said. She couldn't remember seeing Paul so angry.  He'd cleared the table with his arm splashing the meal all over the walls and floor.  Then he'd yelled that the house was a mess. With her big dark eyes flashing she'd smirked, waved her hand over the catastrophe like it was a game show prize and asked


"Thank you my dear, for pointing it out. Do you know how it could get like this? My my what piggies!" She picked up the couple of plates that had been missed by his childish display and chucked them into the pile.  They too broke and dumped.


He'd started for her and Kelly startled herself by taking a defensive stance. If he was going to do it, she was going to fight him the whole way.  Her fists clenched;  her leg rocked back in position to kick; hard if necessary. When he'd seen her prepare for his tirade he hesitated, almost stunned. Paul raised his open hand and smacked the table. 


"Not WORTH it." he growled and turned on his heel to stalk off per usual.


She wondered if it would be in poor taste to leave it all in his bed; stifling the laugh from the vision it created as the garbage was collected and removed. Disposable. That was how she saw their relationship now.  Disposable.  Silently, she removed herself from the unhappiness, choosing to cool her heals in the study.  It surprised her when Paul came in to the den where she was curled up with her book and a cup of tea.  


"Truce?" he asked handing her a wine glass.


She took it and held it, waiting. "And?"


"I'm sorry." he said softly; slowly.  He swirled it in his glass and drank deeply.  "It's your favorite." 


"You remember what that is?" she asked.


"I'm trying." he said a little more tightly.


"One glass of wine, does not an apology make. Paul, what's wrong? With you, with this, with us?" Kelly waved her arms. And so the night began again with talking, honesty and tears.  It was hard to hear and admit they had both failed themselves and each other.  They talked about new beginnings and how it could be different; better.  He told her that he loved her.  She smiled a little less coldly. As they continued, the night became fuzzy. The wine blurred her mind and slurred her vision. Kelly needed to sleep. Paul was still talking but his voice drifted down a long tunnel and disappeared before she could hear it.  Like black, deep water, the tickle of exhaustion crept along her limbs and weighed her down. She couldn't fight it and at last closed her eyes. The sleep was deep and soothing.


So now as she woke, the scratch of her blanket prodded her to remember. No, it begged her. She tossed restlessly and found little room to move.  Kelly tried to swallow and found her mouth and throat brittle.  Had she been snoring?  Her head thumped so viciously inside her skull, she thought is would crack it in two. Kelly's eyes rolled open lazily, snapping shut before she could truly process the darkness around her.  Her neck began to tighten and ache as did her forearms and legs.  It was then she realized the sweet smell that had reminded her of peaceful Sunday naps was tainted with must and sourness. It stung her nostrils and made her straining eyes water.  The blanket was not her wool comforter from her bed but more like a sack. Kelly's aches came from the position she was in; tossed and crumpled like a rag doll. Her bed seemed infantile and pinching.


As reality came bounding in, so did the first shovel full of dirt.  It skittered across the burlap and sifted in through the holes, giggling and dancing along her skin as it searched for a home.  Another came quickly after it: whump. This one nestled along the bend in her middle pushing out the first scream.  Then came the shower. Rocks and broken tree roots mocked and stabbed at her, rushing in as unwanted roommates in her rapidly filling "bedroom".  Adrenaline began to broil through her nerves and into her muscles.  She pushed and fought against her shroud and the pins that pricked under her skin as the drug he'd slipped her began to pull back.  The fog started to melt and she tore at the burlap to free herself.  Kelly gasped and yawned with horror while her body endured the pummeling of shovel after shovel full of dirt.  Her breath was coming in rasping bursts; burning her lungs with every attempt. Screaming only allowed mud to form and clog her mouth and throat.  At last the threads gave way and a flood of sand and dirt rushed in to welcome her to her forever.  


Kelly began to dig, her arms gulping, grasping at the soft, choking muck.  Her legs punched and mashed it solid so she could begin to swim out of the blackness coating her.  Arms burning and head lolling, she clawed her way to the upper ledge of the grave.  The first full breath she took filled her to her toes.  She laughed and gulped again, hungry for more; a lifetime more.  Paul stood there leaning on the spade he'd been using to bury his wife. Patiently he sighed.


"Really?" he asked, the disappointment sagged his shoulders.  "Now I have to dig again." he sighed sadly.


"You ..." she spluttered and continued to climb out of the hole using all four limbs independently.  She resembled a neut running.  Her feet were just pulling away from the cold ground.  She was free and clear.  


He slumped forward a bit, heaving the shovel up over his head.  "Good night Princess." he grunted and swung down hard. The thick crunch made him wrinkle his nose in distaste.  The white blinding light and searing pain in her head and neck were the last reactions Kelly had as her skull snapped to the side.


Her eyes flew open in a scream.  She bolted up out of the chair nearly knocking Paul to the ground. Her hands trembled.  She fell to the floor on her hands and knees sobbing and coughing.


"What the HELL?" he gasped stepping back to see the entire picture. "What's the matter with  you? Jeezus Kelly, I just came in to apologize!  I leaned in to touch your cheek..."


She continued to pant and fight for her breath. At last she looked up, focusing on her husband, their study, her chair. She had fallen asleep in her book and had a bad dream.  She began to giggle and blush with embarrassment.


"Oh my God. Paul, I had a horrible dream.  I couldn't believe it." She stood up and absently brushed at her clothes. "You won't believe it." she shook her head and looked up at him.  


He smiled and offered her a glass of wine. "I'm sorry.  Truce?"


She took it and sipped.  "Whew. How awful." she sighed, wiping her hair from her forehead.  "Ooo this is nice..."


"It's your favorite."


Her smile dwindled only a little.  He sat down opposite her and they began to talk. She began to tell him her little nightmare, finding it even more funny with the wine gently relaxing her muscles; making her sleepy. So Sleepy.




Nothing glamorous.  My daughter and I were watching videos and movie trailers and came across one that was REALLY creepy.  We both gave it that nervous: "Ha-ha-haaa?" and admitted goose bumps.  This did not solve the problem of course. But it was fun and I like it.  In the end, that's all that matters. (Tex? You in there? Go back and read those last couple of sentences before you begin to slash...*wink nudge*)