Though I may not be traveling through the Twilight Zone, I often feel like I’m stuck in the Land of Oz (especially when a guy who stabs out the eyes in the pictures of employees he doesn’t like gets “Employee of the Month”). The world gets curiouser and curiouser sometimes. I fall through the rabbit hole every time I go to sleep, for I am an avid dreamer, both in wakefulness and slumber.
I can’t recall too many weird things happening to me (met plenty of weird people), but I had a dream that was so real, I remember it still, for it chilled me to my very core.
To give some context, when I was six years old, we lived in Rota, Spain, due to my mother’s Navy career. It wasn’t long after my brother was born in the winter of 1987, that I contracted spinal meningitis, losing all hearing in my left ear (something that comes in handy every once in awhile). I don’t remember much about it, except that I always wanted apple juice.
Well, I dreamt my life had went on as it had, and that my husband and I went back to Spain to the school and found my old teacher, Mrs. Haran (at least, that’s what I remember her name being), who came across very cold. I told her I was that girl who was so sick all those years ago–I wanted to thank her for having the whole class send all those drawings, wishing me well–and that’s when she told me that the girl I claimed to me had died twenty-five years ago.
I remember just being in shock, my husband comforting me, and everything going away. I have often wondered how different my family’s life would have been without me (a sort of George Bailey contemplation). I’ve heard the average person escapes death at least seven times in their lifetime, without their even knowing it. I’ve also heard that more murders are committed at 92 degrees Fahrenheit than any other. I hear so many things, I don’t know what to believe anymore.