Fragmented Dreams

Chapter 10: The Morning After

Things like that are just fantasy, it can't be real. Dark creatures and zombie men belong in the fictional world of books and films. The memory of Casimir slaying the strange oozing man with his glowing sword replayed in my head. How do I even come up with this stuff? Why can't I just dream about normal things? My eyes glanced around my room for signs of the alarm clock that usually sat on my dresser. What time is it? I wondered. The crack of light peeking around the edges of my curtain told me it was midday and a moment of panic overtook me.

"No, no, no, no, nooooo," I howled. I pushed myself up and threw my legs out of bed. I stumbled as my blankets clung to me, a tangle of blue fleece and cotton sheets. I kicked my legs desperately trying to throw off my entrapments. Lurching towards my dresser I reached out for my phone, still attached to the charger. Sadly, it confirmed my fears that it was well past lunchtime. I had already missed part of school yesterday and now I was skipping. This is something I tried very hard to avoid, no matter how tired I was. I was dangerously close to the amount of acceptable excused absences I was allowed for the year. Any more and I would have to go to summer school and would not graduate with my friends, or even worse, repeat my Senior year. I was getting too old for high school.

Text messages from both Zola and Sunita blinked on my notification alerts. I quickly texted them back to let them know I was alive, pausing as I grasped for an excuse. I never overslept, both my friends knew of my insomnia, but it was the truth. Yesterday I had gone to the nurse's office so I decided to feign sickness again. I didn't like lying to them but also wanted to avoid a barrage of questions at the moment. Technically I had passed out again, so it wasn't like it was an outright lie. I really hoped my fainting wasn't a sign of something more serious.

With my messages sent I raised my head to look around my room. Everything appeared in order but I had no memory of plugging in my phone or going to bed. I groggily replayed my actions before my collapse. I was cleaning the kitchen and I went to take out the trash. Outside I saw a man, or did I? Was the man part of my dream or real? Did I collapse again? Was it from exhaustion? I think I could remember bumping into Casimir before I passed out, his hands grabbing mine, and then nothing, only terror. Everything after dinner seemed so blurry, but the memory of my dream was crystal clear.

I could hear the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and assumed Grandfather must have come in for lunch. I slipped on my pale blue, terry cloth robe over my regular tank top and cotton pajama bottoms ensemble. I thought the tiny sleeping sheep that decorated the pants were adorable and ironic, seeing as I rarely slept, at least I used to.

As I shuffled down the hall, I decided it must have been Grandfather who helped me to bed, something he has done several times over the years. I stepped into the kitchen doorway ready to greet the familiar figure of my Grandpa but stopped short when I saw Casimir standing at the counter instead. He had his back to me so he luckily didn't see my clumsy halt. This young man seemed very much at ease in my kitchen as he sliced off a large piece of tomato, humming to himself.

I slunk backward, my hand gripping the edge of the doorframe. I hated to admit that I was jealous of this newcomer who had come to apprentice under my grandpa. I had always been greedy for my guardian's attention and fretted about him constantly, due in part that he was a very trusting person. I feared that this young man would abandon the farm at the first sign of hard work, leaving us both in a lurch. I worried about this mostly because over the years we have had to hire people to help with the harvest, but they never lived with us and this seemed like a big step to take. Grandpa George had told me Casimir was the son of a longtime family friend but I swore that I had never heard of this guy before yesterday. My brow furrowed as I worried that perhaps I was so self-centered or sleep-deprived that I couldn't remember him talking about Casimir or his family before now.