To each, their Own Dreams

Prologue

(Author's note: The song linked in the prologue just provides additional emphasis to the story and is completely optional. Enjoy the story!)

"Dad" a voice rang through the black sedan, as a boy of 6 or 7 was incessantly tapping on the Plexiglas window. "What does a yellow signal stand for?"

"Hmm?" the voice behind the wheel started, "Well Jamie, you see, the yellow light stands for - "

Not pausing for an answer Jamie continued, "Whats that?" he pointed to a billboard.

"That's the new pizza they're having at Joe's, the one with the grilled -"

"And that?" he asked, a new billboard having caught the five-year-old's fancy.

"That's the carnival they're having this Christmas, there'll be Ferris wheels, toy trains'-"

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"Why do they have yellow lights'?" 

"Well Jamie -"

                                                                                                       . . .

The concrete began to blend with the asphalt as they drove on. The city's glimmer shifted from a bright wave of light to a tiny sparkle till it turned into nothing more than a small smudge on the painted landscape. The calm aura, serenity and peace that the lush landscape offered failed to arouse the curiosity of the five-year-old. Not finding any of life's puzzling questions along the plain countryside, Jamie began humming.

"What's that you're humming to?" The kid was so lost in his humming that he never heard his father's question. However, there's a very limited library of songs a child's brain can store. Catching onto the tune, the thirty-two-year-old began to sing.

     Almost heaven, West Virginia,
Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River.
Life is old there, older than the trees,
younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze.

The music continued, each verse louder than the last. The boy stopped and for a few moments' just stared out at the scenery passing before him, a flight of crows were making their way across the clear expanse of the sky, headed towards the horizon.

After having decided he'd paused for too long and with the indignation that only five-year-old's are allowed to have, he resumed his humming at a faster pace. The song picked up tempo too. Faster and faster they sang, the veins on their necks starting to pop out, the blood rushing to their heads gave their faces a crimson hue. Spittle and music filled the sedan. Completely lost in the music, their voices echoed through the car and out into the lush countryside that surrounded them.

A curious head would occasionally pop out from a neighboring vehicle , and for a few moments,' the rare company of Mozart and John Denver would have an audience.

Their faces flushed as they tried to maintain their composure and sing at the same time. It was difficult not to enjoy that sight. Oh! what a gallant sight it was.

They never noticed when yellow, with extreme subtlety, turned to red. They never heard the shout of the driver, the shrill horn as the trailer approached them, the screeching of rubber churning against graphite. They did, however, hear the sound of metal crunching when the bodies made contact and the sound of the crash, a horrible, horrible crash.

"Well Jamie" His father chuckled " Yellow stands for proceed with caution."