River of Dreams

River of Dreams: Chapter 18 [Part 2]

Chapter 18 [Part 2]

“Oh stripped down to my naked core. The darkest corners of my mind are yours. That's where you live, that's where you breathe.”—Apocalyptica, “S.O.S (Anything but Love)”

Life lesson #523: when you're trapped in the grocery store behind someone with three shopping carts full of cat food and a million tiny coupons crammed into a ginormous Ziplock bag, just close your eyes and chant "there's no place like home" over and over again until you magically end up there. Trust me, it works. Little Dorothy might have been on to something when she decided to click her ruby red heels together and count to three back in her wondrous misadventure in Oz. 

Unfortunately for me, I didn't have the luxury of waking up perfectly fine with a bunch of friends and relatives staring down at me as if they were worried about my mental health. Instead, the whole ordeal was kind of like playing a game of Minesweeper, except when someone accidentally trips and blows everything to smithereens. Instant, surprising, and oh so painful. At least Dorothy had Toto and her rickety old house to break her fall.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the ceiling. It was a deep navy blue with dozens of plastic neon stars stamped across it, creating a sea of blue, green, and yellow. The lights above me were off, cloaking the small room in darkness as black as the bottom of the ocean. Propping myself up on my elbows with a grunt, I gazed around the darkened room.

"Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," I muttered to myself. "Great."

Even with the glow from the dozens of neon stars plastered to the ceiling, my eyes found it difficult to adjust. Sliding my hands up the walls for support, I came to my feet and shuffled towards the light spilling in through the window. As I moved, I felt the soft material of my pleated skirt sway against my legs, my bare feet easily recognizing the fluffy bodies of the stuffed animals scattered across the carpeted floor. It seemed like everywhere I stepped, one was letting out a loud squeak or calling me its "mama".

I swear, if another one had called me "mama", I would have chucked it out the window.

The head of the twin sized bed was rammed against the wall under the window. The baby blue curtains billowed in the cold winter breeze as snow swirled into the room, coating the pillows and toys like powdered sugar. A part of me wanted to take a running start and leap onto the bed and soon I  was traveling to the bed on quick, agile feet.

Twunk!

"Holy mother of—GAHH!" A yelp penetrated the heavy silence as pain bit into my toes and crawled up my body like hundreds of tiny spiders. I clutched my injured foot and cursed under my breath, hopping towards the bed.

Suddenly I was tumbling backwards, arms flailing, and collapsed into a pool of toys that burst into squeaky song the moment my body made contact with theirs. I groaned as the few that went up decided to test Newton's Laws of Gravity and came crashing back down again on my face. Seething with anger, I glared at the item I had stubbed my toe against only to discover the number "1" painted on the front side of a block, framed in green. Number blocks. A plastic blue ball was situated next to it.

Well, now it was obvious I was trapped in a little kid's room. 

Joy. 

Calm down, Amy. Spontaneously combusting right now is not the brightest idea. Want to do yoga? Yoga sounds fun right about now, the voice in my head soothed. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down, in spite of the sporadic thundering in my chest and the utterly complete silence that threatened to suffocate me.

And then something sliced through the still air: a music box.

I snapped my eyes open. A chill crawled down my spine, raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck in alarm. As far as I could tell, the room was empty, so who could have turned on the music box?