3:13 am. 6 minutes ago at this point.
Been getting stress dreams about work lately. Usually happens this time of year. Usually it’s just we decided to hire my high school friends to help run the stone shop and they are fucking everything up while I run around explaining stuff to them. Or sometimes I’ve ruined my saw, a very expensive machine. For the former I often wake up and I’m glad I don’t have to see any of them again. For the latter it’s sometimes so vivid I wonder if I actually messed something up. Do I have a job tomorrow? I hope so, I love limestone.
This last one crossed a line. Felt so real I’m typing it down now instead of getting my last 47 minutes before the alarm. Can dreams cross lines? How do I tell myself it was just a dream when j can still feel her pulse on my fingers at 3:29?
It’s me and Steve, cruising down the road on an impromptu vacation, skipping work. Known him since I moved to the Midwest from the west coast going on 9 years now. Best friend, worked in a few kitchens together, finally got off the sauce enough I had him come work with me when we were hiring 6 months ago.
Only problem is we got caught, boss is pissed at us. This might actually be the least real feeling part of thr story. But either way we have to race back to work and beat our other two coworkers back and we get to keep out jobs. We’re crusiing. Steve giving directions cause he doesn’t drive (DUIs). I’m terrible with directions and he knows this. I haven’t learned what highway is what and how to get around in the city and surrounding suburbs because I don’t go far from home usually. So when I’m pretty sure we missed the ramp for I-80 94 we needed I pull into a gas station to get us ice cream bars and piss.
Quite a few people here. Feels more like one of the areas you’d pull off of in the west then Midwest. People are playing games, hitting a ball with paddles to each other. Is that pickle ball, or just what my head thinks pickle ball is? I’m mostly just annoyed that they are kicking up dust. I got an ice cream bar, coconut obviously, and now it’s got a tan. Fuck it, I’m in a hurry and not going back for a new one. Breath in limestone dust all day, I’ll live.
This is about the time I see Steve take off running to the bathroom. We stopped 10 minutes ago and that’s his personable problem. Mostly just laugh to myself, hope he’s quick so we can go save.. our jobs? Oh crap that’s why we were driving. Getter go yell at him to make it quick.
I turn the corner and hear why he was really running. The child’s screaming is piercing, the site is even more terrifying than I thought I could ever dream. Hoped I could ever dream. A chill down my body as I register I’m already headed the same direction it came from, and not 15 seconds ago Steve was running the same way.
Making my way around the privacy wall and into the bathroom I see his legs first. Down on his hands and knees, feet thrashing wildly. And then it all comes into view.
There’s a young girl with something at her neck. She is 8, 9 I can’t ever tell kids ages. Long brown hair is the only real feature I can grasp at this point because whatever the thing is at her neck is shaking her violently. But the light is playing tricks through her hair. While the thing on her neck is shaking it is still managing to make eye contact with me. I get the immediate sense it recognizes me.
It seems to be a cat, mountain lion is possible. If only it wasn’t covered in soars. Some of them boil, others I can tell have popped and are seeping. Fur is matted with what was once fluid and has dried. The only distinguishable fur is on its tail. It almost looks like a set of battle tested armor how thick the matted fur has become.
Steve is yelling now. Probably had been the whole time. He has his fingers around the beasts muzzle trying to pry it from the girl’s neck. I see blood covering his hands. Is that his? Hers? The beasts gaping soars? His scream isnt right for someone bleeding that much and the beast doesn’t seem to care about its physical well being the that leaves the girl.
HEY! I snap out of it. Realize it’s time to help. I take a quick couple steps up and swing my steel toe into its ribs. Not going to work. The beast didn’t notice me and I might as well have kicked a boulder. Regroup a second and see the sore on its neck. Bottom side, just in front of the shoulder. I aim for that spot and when I connect my shoe is buried up to where the laces would normally be tied.
It howls. Its eyes focus on me again. The sense this isn’t over floods me. We know each other. This is only a round I’ve won. A small conflict. This will have almost no bearing on the next battle unless I can remember this all. I need to write down the weakness I found. I need to shake myself awake and not forget this time. Because I know I forgot last time. And the beast never has to forget. I’m visiting its world.
So he stalks off, paying no mind to the screams of the people gathered. Steve’s hands are fucked, big time. So it’s up to me to stem the bleeding coming from the girl’s neck.
Apply pressure, someone call 911, it’s going to be OK. I’m here. Don’t talk.
But the tear at her throat is big. I can feel her pulse racing. Four fingers can’t stop this. It’s sickeningly warm. Now she looks me in the eyes. Eyes I recognize but can’t place. Has she been part of the battles before as well? Living some hell in my dreams where the beast is stalking her and I’m helpless to do anything about it? Her eyes are pleading now. I’m sure mine are too.
I whisper she’s a beautiful girl and help is going to be here any second. But the pulse which was racing seconds ago has slowed. I feel her eyes. I feel her pulse.
I wake up. My fingers are throbbing the same beat as hers. The same fingers holding her neck together. Trying to stop all of that blood. And they are still throbbing now at 430 am. I need them to stop. I need to try to go back and help. I know it isn’t going to stop taking her from me.
But I also need to go to work. I just hope the next time I remember.