In my Dreams - Courtney Barnes (important books to read TXT) 📗

chest ache. However, saying the words out loud might diminish the fear that was creeping inside, and that was the only reason I took a deep breath, and began my tale. “It was weird, I was dreaming of a guy from school who I hardly know. He’s been in my mind most nights for the last few weeks, and I don’t know why. Tonight it was the same one I’ve had before, but this time he was killed and died in my arms. It felt so real.” I was wrong, saying the words didn’t help; my heart sped up as I pictured Lucas’ dead eyes and pale white face.

My mom looked sympathetic. “Oh honey that’s awful, but you know it was just a dream, right?” She touched my cheek lovingly, and again her soft touch did nothing to ease my mind. “Who was it?”

I pulled away from her. “I’d rather not say. What time is it anyway?”

“Midnight. You have the rest of the night to have happy dreams.” She smiled obviously trying to cheer me up. I returned the smile, so she’d think she had helped. I didn’t feel any better, but she didn’t have to know that. “Thanks mom. I’m okay now.”

“I’m glad honey. Goodnight.” She kissed my cheek and turned out the light as she closed the door behind her.

Still feeling a little anxious I picked up my book, and read for a while.

My sudden exhaustion overpowered my uneasiness. I put the book away and lay down, hoping I could get back to sleep. Closing my eyes, I hoped for blackness. Instead, I saw Lucas’ lifeless eyes staring at me. I tried to think of something cheery to help get rid of the vision in my mind, but nothing worked. I sighed heavily, turned over and stared at my CD collection, silently counting the titles.

I must have finally fallen asleep eventually, because the next thing I knew, my mom was knocking on the door telling me to get up for school.

I sat up in bed, my god, did I feel like crap. I didn’t know what time it was when I finally fell asleep, but the last time I remember looking at the clock, it was three a.m. So needless to say, I was tired, and I felt troubled about the dream.

I stood in the shower with the hot water pouring over me. The water splashing on my face woke me up a bit, but I felt weak from lack of sleep.

When I finished washing my body, I climbed out of the shower.

I wiped the steam from the mirror with my hand and stared at my reflection. The face in the glass looked hollow and pale with dark circles under the eyes. I didn’t recognize this girl; it would take more than make up to fix my face this morning. All I wanted to do was to climb back under my soft, welcoming blankets.

I stopped myself before I gave in to the urge. Brushing and drying my hair was a challenge for my weak arms. I finished getting dressed; hardly noticing what clothes I chose, or if they even matched and only applied the bare minimum of makeup before heading downstairs.

“Sarah you better hurry up, I’m leaving, and you’re going to-” my mom stopped mid sentence when she saw me. She was wearing a black skirt and matching jacket, her hair was pulled back in a twist. She tucked a loose hair behind her ear, as she assessed my appearance. “You look awful honey, are you sick?”

I felt awful. “No just tired.”

She didn’t look convinced. “If you want to stay home, you can.”

My stomach dropped. “No!” I yelled. Fear clawed at my chest at the thought of staying home. She backed up, surprised as much as I was at my reaction. “I… mean no, have to go to school, I…I’m okay,” I stammered, wondering why I had acted so frightened at the idea of staying home.

She glanced at her watch. “I have to go, or I’ll be late. If you change your mind about staying home, let me know. Alex left with a friend already. I’ll see you later.” She said all that, as she was running for her car. I really didn’t feel like going to school, but, for some reason I needed to be there.

Walking to my car twenty minutes later, I noticed the weather reflected how I felt. It was overcast and chilly. There was no rain, but a wet mist hovered in the air, so much for a sunny day to help cheer me up. I hugged myself, pushing my leather coat closer to keep the chill away.

When I arrived at school, the anxious feeling I woke up with, still lingered. I climbed out of my car walking slowly into the building and then to my locker, all the while scanning the crowded halls for a familiar head of brown shaggy hair.

In music class the whole group practiced Miss Fitzgerald’s original piece. I made a few mistakes, which was frustrating because only yesterday I had it down perfectly. When class was dismissed, Miss Fitzgerald called me to her desk, as the rest of the kids filed out to go to lunch.

I stood silently in front of her, waiting for her to speak as she stuffed papers into a drawer. She finally closed it, and glanced up at me. “Are you feeling okay, Sarah? You look a little pale.”

“I’m tired, that’s all. I’ll do better tomorrow,” I said apologetically.

She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I know you can do it; I’m just concerned for you. Why don’t you go home if you’re not feeling well?”

I panicked. “I’m fine, the day’s already half over, I’ll be okay. Is that all?” I was hoping to leave before she insisted I go home. For some reason, the thought of leaving filled me with dread.

“Okay, but if you change your mind, don’t worry about your school work, just go. You can catch up later.”

“Thanks Miss Fitzgerald. See you tomorrow.” I rushed out of the classroom before she could change her mind. It wasn’t my schoolwork keeping me here; it was something else. I just didn’t know what that was.

At lunch, my friends kept telling me how bad I looked and that I should go home. I was getting tried of hearing it.

In history class, I looked over to where Lucas sat, but his chair was empty. Alarm bells went off inside my head. Where was he? Mr. Henderson came in and started his lesson. I glanced at Emma and whispered, “Where’s Lucas?”

“I heard he was sick, why do you want to know?” she smirked. I wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

“Just curious,” I said, looking straight ahead at the chalkboard.

At home, after school, I felt restless. And nothing seemed to soothe me. Doing homework or reading didn’t interest me. I thought music would help, but when I put my new C.D on, it just made me feel jumpy. There was only one thing that usually helps soothe my nerves, when I felt this way. So I headed to the basement rec. room. If it didn’t work, nothing could.

I sat down on the stool and placed my hands on the piano keys, they were cold and bumpy against my palm when I swept my hand over them. A loud tinkle of notes erupted in the small room. I closed my eyes to listen. There was nothing I enjoyed more than the sound of a piano in perfect tune.

I played my favorite song, trying to loose myself in the music. Next I played the new piece for music class. When screwed up on the ending, I decided today wasn’t the day to practice. I was too preoccupied with playing the dream over and over in my head, and since the song was new to me, playing it on instinct proved difficult. I couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling, so I gave up trying.

Back in my room, I laid on my bed, staring up at the dirt splotch looking for answers. I wished I had Lucas’ phone number. I needed to know that he was okay. That was my problem all day, after my dream last night I had to see him. That’s why I needed to go to school, and why I was anxious all morning, waiting to see him at lunch. When he wasn’t there, I thought for sure he would be in history class. After he didn’t show up, I felt panicked.

Should I call him? Yeah right, what was I supposed to say? I only had a couple of conversations with the guy, and I didn’t think we were at the calling stage. What would I even say? “Oh Lucas I’m just calling to make sure you’re not dead. See you at school.” Yeah right, I’m not crazy. Or I could go with, “I’ve been dreaming of you and in the last one I had, you died in my arms. It freaked me out, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Yeah sign me up for a straight jacket. I just needed sleep, I thought, then I’d calm down. I closed my eyes and waited to fall under. It didn’t work. Instead, Lucas’ vacant eyes looked back at me.

I lay there until my mom called me for supper.

Sitting in my chair at the table, I picked at my food. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I ate the macaroni casserole my mom made, not really tasting it, while the conversation went on around me.

“You’re quiet Sarah. Is there something wrong?” my dad asked between bites.

“Yeah I’m tired, and I don’t really feel like talking.” I gulped the last bite and shoved away from the table. “I’m finished eating, I’m gonna go back to my room if that’s alright?”

My mom and dad exchanged questioning glances, and then my mom answered, “Sure honey.”

I was putting my dishes in the dishwasher when the phone rang.

“Sarah could you get that?” my mom shouted from the dining room.

“Sure,” I said, grabbing the phone off of the end table. “Hello.”

“Is Sarah home?” a deep voice asked.

“This is Sarah.”

“Oh hi, it’s Lucas. Is it okay that I’m calling?”

Relief washed over me. “Yeah sure.” I headed upstairs to my room, taking the phone with me. Behind me, I could hear my mom and dad arguing with Alex about something. I really didn’t care. I had my own problems.

I fell onto my bed, my weight made the pillows bounce. “What’s up?”

“I was sick today, and I don’t want to get