I awoke to a burning field grain. I screamed at the top of my lungs, but my father was in another world, a world of pure intoxication. He was an unconscious heap in the barn. I did my best to pull him out but it was futile. I had to get out, but so did he! I needed to think fast; just then the barn floor gave way, I fell farther and farther, watching my father burn.
I shot straight up in a pool of sweat breathing hard; my mom came entered, wondering what was wrong.
"You ok Barley?" my mother asked.
"Yeah" I gasped.
"Was it the same one?" she said concerned.
I nodded and then asked her to leave. She closed my door, I needed dome fresh air. I walked out onto the terrace looking out at the Manhattan skyline. The dream happened, I couldn't help it but it had become more often and much more vivid. It was from my childhood, the barn, my mom leaving, my dad drinking, the fire, and something I never understood that saved me. But mom had adopted me; I thought it was behind me. I had been going to therapy but nothing helped.
Where did I go from here? The sun began to rise; I didn't think I had been out here that long. The warmth wash over me and I smelled my mom's world famous breakfast. I entered the house, I was ready to dig into the loaf of bread but my mom slapped away my hand, something about eating too many carbs. She produced eggs, sausage, and best of all a chai tea (I despised coffee). She sat down next to me and began to dig in.
We talked and joked; spoke about the week and how excited we were for summer vacation, anything but the dream. We did our morning ritual of washing the dishes together and then the loaf of bread exploded.