Chapter Eighteen
Parker

Peaceful slumber. A thing that I did not expect to achieve on my first night at the Hanson’s. I knew that the nothingness of the satisfying unconsciousness had to be interrupted by something. And I waited for it, unknowingly.

I was right as I found myself enveloped in a dream.

I’m in a room. A very dark room, black on all four walls with no windows, though for some reason I suspect that it’s night and there would be no light in the room anyway. I turn my head left and right, squinting and trying my hardest to see into the pitch black.

It isn’t until the sound of a match being struck is heard that the dream has a sense of familiarity to it. I watch, knowing what’s about to happen as a large mirror, and a small table are illuminated in the soft glow of the candle’s flame. I watch, waiting for her to appear and after a while, she does.

Her hair, dark and curly still falls over her shoulders, she is still wearing the same clothes. The only thing that seems different this time around is that her eyes are a little less vacant and seem to, from very far away, see me this time.

I watch with wonderment and fascination as she raises her fist again. I wait for her to shatter the glass. Slowly this time, her balled up hand goes toward the mirror and hits it straight in the middle. The glass slides neatly to the floor.

I expect her to blow out the candle and walk away now, but instead she gives out a cry of pain and holds the hand in which she had smashed the mirror in the other. Even from this distance, I can see that her hand is bleeding excessively.

I move to help but when I am face to face with her, a scream suddenly rips through the quiet room. I look at her, but she is looking around the same as I am, wondering where the screaming is coming from.

I try to forget about the screaming and concentrate on the matter at hand, but she looks at me longingly.

“Help him,” she whispers and her voice almost sounds familiar, but I can’t place where I have heard it from before.

I look up at her, not quite sure what she means by this. She sees my confusion and repeats herself.

I nod, knowing now what she wants me to do. I bend down and blow out the candle myself. The room goes dark and I can feel myself being pulled back into the clutches of reality.

“What the-,” I said without meaning to, waking up with a start. I knew I had woken up from the dream, but was still oddly aware of screaming going on somewhere. And, unlike in the dream, the screaming was now close.

I looked to my right and saw Zac struggling to calm Taylor, who appeared to still be asleep and was fighting his younger brother with all his will.

It took me a minute to get oriented and convince myself that this was actually happening. When I did, I moved to help Zac, who was speaking in a soothing voice though he looked scared half to death himself.

“Taylor calm down,” I said, trying to be soothing myself.

It didn’t take long for everyone to be standing in the doorway, gawking with fright at the scene before them. Isaac was especially pale. Once he seemed to gather his wits, he moved into the room as well, pushing me and Zac gently out of the way.

“Tay,” he said, trying to get Taylor to sit still. “Taylor, it’s only a dream. Wake up.”

Suddenly Taylor’s eyes flew open. I noticed for the first time that sweat was pouring from every pore of his skin--or seemingly so at least. His hair was stuck to his face and neck, his clothes (which he had ended up falling asleep in) were glued to his body, sodden.

“It’s okay, Taylor. It was just a dream. You’re all right,” Isaac said to him soothingly.

I looked at Zac. He looked relieved and tired. I wanted to ask about why this seemed like such a normal routine to everyone, but I was too frightened myself for even thinking of speaking.

“Is he all right?” I whispered to Zac.

He nodded reluctantly, obviously not quite sure of the answer to that question himself.

It took quite a while for everyone to disperse and retreat back to their bedrooms. Isaac himself made a move to leave, but Taylor stopped him. His eyes entreated him to not go and Isaac silently agreed.

“I guess this is my cue to go back to the guestroom,” I said, getting up. I’m not sure if I was being cowardly or considerate.

“Don’t go either,” Taylor said. His voice was small.

I nodded, sitting back down.

“I guess we’re in for another long night,” Isaac said, though he didn’t seem to be too bothered by it. Just used to it. I couldn’t help but wonder why.

Any interpretations of Parker's dream are welcome.
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Nineteen