Day 8: Dreamcatcher
Write something inspired by a recent dream you had.
A couple nights ago, I had a dream I was on a double decker bus. One of those big red ones that always get smashed apart in a Jason Statham or The Rock movies. I was with a rowdy group of Philadelphia Eagles fans, who were celebrating their recent win over Trump's favorite team.
Every so often, we'd make a quick stop to pick up more booze, supplies or just random people. One of those people was a strange man, kept to himself, super quiet. He sat next to me and just watched everyone partying the whole time.
I tried to talk to him a couple times but he was definitely a listener not a talker. He was weirdly comforting. Like talking to a stuffed animal when you're scared at night. So I just talked to him about everything that was going on in my life.
Meanwhile in the background, someone gave birth on the upper deck apparently and they decided to name the kid Eagle.
I went upstairs to offer my congratulations, took a disgusting shot and went back down to sit with my strange new friend. But he was gone.
I asked some people around me where he went and they didn't know.
"People come and people go," some drunk dude told me. Thanks, drunk dude.
I was mildly, concerned and wanted to go looking for him but then I woke up. So now I'm thinking where did he go? Here's what I think happened:
The Stranger watched the short, loud woman go upstairs. He smiled. The bus came to a stop at a red light. He stood up, opened the doors, ignoring the "Hey!" from the bus driver, and walked out into the night.
He had something to find and he wasn't going to find it surrounded by Philadelphians. His instincts told him to walk forward through the crowd of people. He felt someone crying, someone that needed help.
He came upon a woman sitting on the front steps of her townhouse, tears in her eyes, watching the cheering, destructive crowd on the street in front of her. He approached her, cocked his head and gestured towards the spot next to her.
She stared for a minute, then nodded. He sat there, she cried for awhile, then went quiet. After a few minutes, she began to pour her heart out.
“Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”