The sun shines through the windshield, turning the car into an oven. The windows are down, and your hair whips wildly in the pine scented breeze. Your father turns the steering wheel, following the curve of the road. Music plays from the radio, as dense forest glides past.
" Mommy, Mommy!" You're in the middle seat, mouth sweet and sticky with candy. You brandish a once fluffy rabbit, the fur matted from the many times you played in the dirt and dropped Miss Carrots into a puddle.
Your mom turns in the passenger seat, a warm smile crinkling the corners of her mouth.
" What is it Y/N?" Your mom asks.
" Miss Carrots says she needs more candy."
"Sweetie, I don't think Miss Carrots said that."
"Yes she did!" You cross your arms, throwing Miss Carrots onto the floor.
" Y/N, don't you dare take that TONE with me. We're nearly at the park, and you'll spoil your appetite if you eat too much candy," your mom reprimands, turning in her seat.
Your tiny fists clench and you scream, kicking your legs, " I want more CANDY!"
" Y/N be quiet!" Your mom yells.
" No!"
" Geez, I'm trying to drive here," your dad complains. It's a wonder you heard him at all over your temper tantrum. Tears stream down your hot little face, as you hiccup, then scream again for more candy.
Your mom whirls around, her mouth a thin line, " Y/N if you're not quiet by the time I count to three, I'm never giving you candy EVER again! One... two..." But you don't care- all you want is candy.
You keep screaming, limbs flailing until your dad takes his eyes off the road for a split second, his mouth opens angrily, and he's about to scold you too. You're sitting in the middle seat so you see the black truck when it crashes into your parents car. The screech of metal ripping metal is deafening, your world flips upside down and the car bounces on its roof with a crash. All the windows shatter, and glass sprays over you, stinging you with cuts. The car bounces once more, your mom's screaming as both your parent's arms flail with the shift in gravity, their heads lolling. The car collides with a tree snapping it in two, a shard of the tree pierces through the windshield and rips through your stomach.
You gasp awake, flailing in your bed sheets, sweat pours down the back of your neck as you scramble to a sitting position. Reaching over you switch on your bedside lamp and pull up your shirt, inspecting your stomach.
There's no shard of tree in your belly, no scar, nothing.
You whimper in relief, leaning against your headboard. You're still gasping for air.
It was just a dream.
But it felt so real! You sit there for a while, your brow furrows as you replay the dream over and over. Something's not right. Putting your head in your hands you try to think. That car seemed so familiar and...Miss Carrots was a real childhood toy of yours.
You scramble out of bed, and blindly race down the pitch black hall heading to your parents room." Ow," you bump your knee against a table full of photographs, they clatter as they fall against the hard surface. You limp past, not caring to fix them up. Getting to your parents room, you push open their door with a creak and switch their light on, their darkened room floods with light. They both wake, shifting under the covers and blink blearily at you.
" What the hell? What time is it?" Your dad squints, he glances out the window and see that it's still night.
" Mom, Dad were we in a car accident when I was little?" You're still in their doorway, heart racing with desperation. You don't care that you've woken your parents. This is urgent!
" What... why are you saying this. It's", Your mom peers at the clock on their bedside table , " Jesus, Y/N it's four in the morning!"
" Mom, sorry but this is important. Were we ever in a car accident when I was little?"
Your father's face pales, " Why are you asking that?"
" Because I had a dream about it and in it... I got impaled by a piece of a tree that we crashed into," You step into the room, gauging their reactions.
Your mom gasps, a hand going to her mouth in horror. Both of them are wide awake and sitting up.
" Well it happened so long ago, we didn't think you'd remember," your mom whispers.
" So there was a crash," you wring your hands and start pacing the room.
" Yes but you were maybe, four at the time? Some of the tree we crashed into had gone through the windshield and impaled the spot where you were sitting." Your mom's eyes fill with tears at the memory, " The police and paramedics couldn't explain it, but you somehow got out before the tree went through the car. When they arrived they said you were sitting outside on the road. Not a scratch on you. I remember waking up, hanging upside down, and I saw the tree through the car... I screamed, because I thought... Thought I'd lost you," your mom chokes on a sob. Your dads arms circle around her, his eyes red with unshed tears.
" We both thought you were dead," your dad mumbles.
" How are you remembering this now? I thought you were too young to remember," your mum sniffs.
" I don't know... What I dreamt wasn't right anyway. I dreamt that I was impaled by the tree and that's when I woke up," You stop your pacing and sit on the end of your parents bed.
" Do you remember anything else? Like how you got out of the car?" Your father asks, a haunted look in his eyes.
You shake your head, " I only remember screaming for candy then we crashed."
" I wonder why you're remembering this now, it was so awful. Has something happened? To trigger you maybe?" your mom wipes the tears from her cheeks.
" I don't know, maybe stress from college," you shrug, " Sorry for waking you both. I was just a little freaked out." You stand back up crossing your arms, a chill settling into your bones at this forgotten memory.
" It's ok Y/N, but are you sure you're alright after having this nightmare?" your dad asks, a crease of concern folding his forehead. You glance at your mom who also has the same look of concern on her face.
" Yeah, I'm fine. It just freaked me out a little bit because I remembered Miss Carrots," a false smile wavers on your lips.
" Ok, well. If you want to talk about it we're here. Try and get some sleep honey," Your mom says, laying back into the covers with a yawn. Your dad lays his head down on the pillow.
" Ok, I will. Sorry for waking you," you get off the end of their bed and pad out of the room, switching off the light. So it wasn't a dream, it was a memory.
Shuffling down the dark hallway you head back to your room, wondering how you'll even get to sleep now. The remembered sound of the crash, makes your stomach churn. Your mind's racing, running over the details of the crash; glass cutting your face and the sharp, searing pain as you were impaled. Shaking your head, you climb back into bed and switch off the lamp. Just as you settle into your pillow, a glow catches your eye and you realize it's the screen of your phone. Frowning, you reach over and pick it up. There's a text message;
Hi. I don't want to be weird but I just had this nightmare and I want to see if you had it too. I was in a car, it crashed ,and I got stabbed by a tree through the windshield. If you didn't dream this then, that's good and I probably sound like a weirdo messaging you, smh. Sorry if this woke you. Tom.
You feel like someone's dumped you into an icy bath, your heart plummets through the floor, as you fight a wave of nausea. Your fingers shake as you type out a text to Tom Holland.
I had the same dream. I just spoke with my parents. It's a memory from my childhood- except they said I wasn't impaled by the tree. I was found outside the car, unscratched. I don't even remember it.
Tom's reply is quick;
Ok. This is weird. We've shared another dream, again. But it's a memory of yours this time? Can I call you tomorrow? Better yet are you free instead? I think we need to meet up and talk about this.
Your eyes widen and your stomach flips nervously. Meet up with Tom Holland tomorrow? Your heart races as you think of his gorgeous face. Should you meet up with him? What will you wear? You roll your eyes before you get ahead of yourself, it's not like it's a date or anything, you guys need to talk about this dream you've both shared. The thought sobers you and so you message him;
I know, it's making me freak out! What makes it even worse is that it's a MEMORY of mine. Even though we both dreamt it wrong (because I wasn't stabbed by the tree) but still, some of it was true. What does this mean? Are my thoughts just going into your head? Wow I hope not. Yeah, if you want we should talk about this. I've so many questions.
Your heart races with panic at the thought of Tom having access to your memories, or worse your thoughts and especially what you think about him. Think of something else Y/N! You force yourself to think about the essay that you still have to complete before Tuesday, just in case Tom can somehow read your mind. You think of all the research you need to do and assure yourself that you'll have plenty of time to finish it after you get back from meeting Tom. It shouldn't take too long for you both to discuss the weirdest thing to ever happen. Right? Your phone pings with a message;
Lol! I don't think your thoughts are going into my head. Relax, it's ok, we'll figure this out together. There's obviously some connection between us, but we just have to figure out what it is, and why. Although I am lowkey freaked out about it, but we'll be good : ) I'm trying to think positive. Um, I'm staying at the intercontinental hotel, is it ok if you come here? Or I can go to yours, just as long as it's nowhere public, I don't want us to get disturbed by people.
You wince at the thought of your parents meeting Tom Holland in your living room. That's the spider kid, your dad would say. Your mom would probably pinch his cheeks, Oh, you're so cute- isn't he cute Y/N?
It's fine, I'll meet you there and we can talk. What time?
You're thinking of an excuse to tell your mom about why you have to borrow her car tomorrow. You can tell her you need it to go to the campus library for your essay, which is kind of true.
Maybe 12, if that's cool? There's a quiet restaurant downstairs, we can get something to eat and talk about these dreams/memories/psychic connection between us when we sleep, if you want?
Your heart thumps and a flush heats your face. For some reason you thought you'd probably just meet him at his hotel room and talk there, let alone have lunch with Tom Holland? Calm down it's not a date! You swallow nervously;
Sounds good, seeing as I probably won't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. I might try and do some research online, try and make sense of what's happening with us.
Tom writes back;
That's a good idea. I'll look up some things too. I'll see you tomorrow :)
You smile at the emoji at the end of the message, then it hits you like a punch to the face. You not only met Tom Holland less than 24 hours ago, but you've spoken to him on the phone, and you guys are texting like you're friends and now you're going to meet up with him for lunch tomorrow? What the hell is happening? Shaking your head in disbelief, you type;
See you then : )