One Last Shot

chapter six: the call

• • •
Tayla

     I have always been a person who dreams. Whether it be a detailed one with people in my life or something short and random with characters I have never even met, I always find myself dreaming at night. I know many people rarely do, but I remember my dreams every morning when I wake up from my groggy slumber. I don't know what it is that causes me to do it so often. Even though I aced the class, I barely payed attention in psychology. I sat next to this large group of friends that all happened to be in the same class and all they would do was constantly argue about some hockey teams. Believe it or not, it's hard to focus when the people next to you are blabbing about how many teeth they say on the ground after the fight between opposing players.

     The main thing I remember about the frequency of dreams, is that some people have more stress or trauma that causes them to have  an increase of dreams, as well as a greater time period that they can remember them. Lindsey and I discussed this topic before and I argued I had frequent dreams because of the amount of stress I was under. When we first talked about it, I was still fairly new to Chicago, about two or three months, and I was still figuring out how to juggle my life in the city as well as my life back in LA with my family. Matt was forced to endure countless amounts of phone calls, even more than he does now, just so I could make sure everything was going smoothly with our parents and I felt like the stress was starting to pile up.

Lindsey didn't totally agree with that. Yeah she understood that the back and forth was a lot for me, but she blamed it on trauma rather than stress. I never considered myself as a person who suffered trauma. The only thing traumatic that I went through was the accident at the ski lodge, and even that I wouldn't consider my own trauma. That happened to Owen, and even though Lindsey argues with me that seeing my younger start to bleed out in front of me traumatic, it's not mine. It's Owen that has to deal with the aftermath of what happened, the scars on his body because of it, so when she tried to give me sympathy as she explained it, I took none of it. Owen was the one who had to deal with that pain, and I would never take someone's sympathy for what he had to endure.

     Trauma or no trauma. Stress or no stress. I'm constantly dreaming, and after certain 'dreams'; let's just say I'm glad I wake up.

     It's around five o'clock by the time I open my eyes to the sunlight peeking through my blinds that cover my large glass windows. Although my shift last night went by fairly quick, I am always amazed by the sheer amount of energy it takes out of my body. Having such a messed up sleep schedule definitely doesn't help my case either. Last nights shift went till seven am and I finally fell asleep around nine, so as most people are waking up and starting their day, I'm passing out under my big fluffy comforter.

     I roll over to my left side and grab the remote on my nightstand and press the button to open the blinds. Lindsey always makes fun of me for them but honestly, I am a shorter girl and there ain't no way I can reach the top of those windows. Plus it doesn't help that opening blinds is like the one thing I'm too lazy to do. The sunset looks beautiful today. Winter is almost here and stupid Illinois' day light savings time causes the sun to go down insanely early. Our midnight here now is actually like seven o'clock.

     I rub my eyes a few times and give them a few hard blinks before grabbing my phone and bringing it up to my face. I unlock the screen to see a multitude of texts from Lindsey staring back at me.

Lins: morning sunshine !! xxx

Lins: what are the odds starbucks actually has my order today ??? i swear anytime i decide to go on the massive escapade that is their drive through, i'm always turned down