by S Bolanos
“Yeah, that’s gre—” My gut wrenching violently cut me short.
“Sara?”
“I’m sorry Charline, I think…I think I’m going to have to call it a night.” An abdominal cramp forced me nearly double and I gasped at the pain.
“No worries dear, you go right on home and get some rest. Give me a sec, I’ll get someone to grab your things.” Without another word, she abandoned me to my heavy panting.
I focused on deep steady breaths while I waited for her return. The effort was wasted, as each and every attempt caught in my throat and made my chest spasm.
“Okay, Jenny is grabbing your purse, but I couldn’t find your jacket,” Charline said beside me once more.
“Think I left it…in the car,” I managed through gritted teeth. Twinkle lights ran together in streaks of white and yellow. My head spun and even the ground seemed to be pitching beneath me, though I’d yet to move. “Need to go.”
Please don’t let me pass out in her backyard.
“Are you going to be okay to drive?” Charline gave me another concerned look as she wrapped a steadying arm around my waist.
“Yeah, I…I just need to go home.” She didn’t look convinced. “Seriously, Charline, I think it’s just too many people after what happened.”
Her mouth pulled down in a half scowl. “Okay, but I expect you to call me the minute you get home.”
“Sure thing,” I wheezed.
She shook her head, but didn’t argue. “Come on, we’ll go around the side.” I could’ve cried with gratitude. Leave it to Charline to be the perfect hostess even when I was being a subpar guest. “You make yourself a nice, hot cup of tea and lie down. That’ll fix you right up,” Charline said as we approached my car. A person who must have been the promised Jenny, manifested with my things as Charline helped me into the driver’s seat.
“I’m really sorry,” I said again.
“Not another word. I’ll talk to you later. And don’t forget to call.” She gave me a quick side hug and stepped back. I managed a small salute before closing the door.
It took every ounce of concentration I had to pay attention to the road. Like the twinkle lights in the backyard, all of the lights seemed exceptionally bright, surrounded by star bursts that streaked together in nearly indistinguishable blurs. I squinted in an attempt to bring the lights of my fellow drivers into better focus.
Does everyone have their high beams on tonight?
I sailed blindly through another intersection.
Was that light red or green?
The road seemed to roll up and down and my stomach lurched in time with the perceived hills. Finally, I pulled into my driveway. Shaky fingers fumbled with my phone as I shot off a text to Charline. It wasn’t until I went to unbuckle that I realized I never had. I shook my head, which proved to be a huge mistake, and stumbled out of the car and into the house.
The door clicked shut behind me as I kicked off my shoes and tossed aside my purse. It landed with a clatter that sent my phone skittering across the floor. I stared at it dumbly before another spasm in my stomach set my feet moving again.
I can’t be drunk; I didn’t drink nearly enough for that.
Pain lanced sharp and unforgiving through my side.
Tea be damned. I’m drinking a gallon of water and going to bed.
I stumbled toward the fridge, but came to an abrupt stop when I slammed into something. I looked down at the island with its glistening blue tile.
Who put that there?
A series of spasms ripped through my midsection. I gasped as agonizing pain washed over me. My nails dug into the fabric of my dress as I doubled over and nearly careened off of the counter.
What’s wrong with me? It’s too early to be my cycle.
My sweaty hand slipped on the slick tile as I tried to brace myself. The flimsy material of my dress clung to my equally sweat-coated skin.
It’s hot. How did it get so hot?
Outside. I need to be outside. Fresh air will help.
I staggered to the sliding glass door and managed to push it open and barely remembered to close it before trying to lean against it. Cold air filled my lungs and burned my nose. Fog billowed before my eyes with each gasped breath. Slowly, I looked up at the pitch-black sky studded with white. And there, in the middle of it all, was the full moon Charline had promised.
A pain unlike anything I’d ever known brought me to the ground. My hands and knees burned where unforgiving concrete scraped the skin clean off. I choked on a cry as my back arched unnaturally. My arm spasmed and sent me sprawling. The awful popping of my joints rang in my ears like fireworks and brought its own fresh wave of pain. I panted heavily, dragging burning cold into my lungs. My right leg kicked out of its own accord. It hit the glass and the impact radiated through my foot.
What precious little balance I had retained vanished. Hot blood dripped down my legs as my knees skidded along the grit covered ground. I desperately dragged myself away from the door. The move catapulted my stomach into my throat. A sharp prickling sensation spread like fire across my body. I scratched violently at my clothes, eager for some modicum of relief from the incessant burn. Another wave of acute agony rolled over me and sent me crashing face first into the ground as my vision narrowed.
I squeezed my eyes tight against the pain and sobbed through lungs made of fire past bleeding lips. Then everything went black.
5
Lost in Suburbia
I blinked to clear the grit from my bleary-eyed view. Streetlights pierced the clear night, their halos bright and painful. Scenery leapt out of the darkness in lurid detail. I closed my eyes against the weird sharpness for fear of being sick and focused on getting up. A groan drifted out of me to vibrate dully between my ears.
Come on, one foot in front of the other. You’ve got this.
I straightened my legs and my stomach lurched in protest. Once it settled again, I was aware that my brain at least believed I was fully upright.
That’s not right.
I dropped my head to look down at my feet and instantly regretted the decision. The world swam violently, my stomach clenched in retribution, and I gave up the endeavor to focus on taking a shaky breath.
Why am I on my hands? Am I on my hands?
The discordant thoughts tumbled one on top of the other.
I could use some tea.
I swayed in the general direction of the sliding door and bumped into it with my face. Pain rippled through me, starting at the point of impact then spreading like a wave to encompass my entire body.
What the hell?
Remembering my earlier quick movements, I slowly lifted my neck back up to search for the handle. My focus zeroed in on the ephemeral image of a large canine standing on the other side of the glass. I jolted backward, backpedaling as fast as my abused body would allow, aches and pains forgotten in the panic. My foot caught on an edge of concrete and veered out from under me. The world went wrong side up and I tumbled even farther back.
Fear swallowed reason and squeezed the breath from my lungs. Aching muscles tensed to the point of agony as I waited for the final snap that would end me.
The neighborhood cat yowled houses down. Cars honked on the main thoroughfare a couple streets over. Mr. Phillips and his wife argued louder than ever. A sprinkler ticked away in the distance, even though it was much too early in the season for that. My ears strained in the darkness for sounds I didn't hear: no nails on concrete, no sinister growl, no shuffling body.
Slowly, I uncurled myself, forcing paralyzed muscles to move. My body protested the continued mistreatment, but I kept going. Then, in an amazing moment of bravery, I cracked an eye. Unfortunately, the first thing in my field of vision was my hand, which was supposed to be steadying me, except it wasn’t a hand—that was definitely a paw.
Positive that I had a concussion of some sort, I tried to look at my other hand and found in its place another paw nearly the size of my face. Thoroughly freaked
out, I hurried closer to the reflective door. The glass revealed the same light-brown canine with a long muzzle and a remarkably bushy tail I’d caught a glimpse of earlier. I blinked hard, willing myself to wake up from the obviously liquor-induced nightmare.
It’s not real. It’s a dream. I’ll wake up.
Despite my insistence, the image remained unchanged.
Maybe I’m dead.
I shut down that line of thought.
This isn’t happening. It’s not possible. I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I fell again, only now I’m in a coma.
There was only one way to know for sure: standard dream test. Gathering myself, I rushed the door. My head collided with the unforgiving pane hard enough to make a loud thud and shake the door. I stumbled back.
Great, now I’m hallucinating and I have a headache.
I gazed intently at the reflection. The sleek brown fur shone beneath the light of the moon high overhead. A gentle breeze drifted through my hair, but the chill didn’t touch me.
This has to be the strangest dream. But what could have brought it on?
The large canine before me tilted its head. As it was, I stood taller than I would have if I'd been on my hands and knees. Even my head was slightly larger than an average human one once the extra bits like the extended muzzle and pointed ears were taken into account. Truthfully, I’d never so much as seen a picture of a dog that kind of looked like this.
I let out a frustrated huff. At the same time, I felt and saw my ears swivel forward. I laid them down and perked them up. Then I picked up my hand and my entire body adjusted. Interestingly enough the tail—my tail—caught my attention as it too moved to compensate for balance. I willed it to wag and was rewarded with a satisfying swishing motion.
That’s not weird at all…
The reality of my predicament was getting harder to ignore.
All the nope. Time to go inside.
I took a step forward and a fresh horror arose.
How am I supposed to open the door without opposable thumbs?
I scratched at the point where glass met the wall in the vague hope it was at least cracked to no avail. If it wasn’t shut all the way before, it definitely was now. My despair deepened and I snatched at another plan of attack.
The latch isn’t complicated. I can totally manage without thumbs.
I briefly considered the simple mechanism, then attempted to work at it. The screech of nails sent a shiver down my spine and every hair along my back stood on end as if I’d been electrocuted.
Determined to persevere despite what was proving to be a very thorough dream, I pushed past the ear-piercing sound and tried again. After several frustrating minutes, I resorted to my teeth, earning myself a sore muzzle and a scratched frame.
No no no. I’m going to be stuck out here until I wake up.
Or return to normal, my mind offered unhelpfully.
Not inclined to believe any of this, I didn’t appreciate my subconscious blindly accepting the fantastical situation.
Maybe I can make myself normal. In dreams and movies, it’s a matter of willing something right? I can do that.
I braced myself and squeezed my eyes tightly shut. A feeling deep in my gut manifested. I focused harder. The pressure intensified.
That’s it, it’s working.
I let out a soft burp and hung my head in defeat.
This isn’t real, it can’t be.
A distant noise infiltrated my bubble of self-pity. My ears rotated forward and I froze. A shiver of fear swept through me. I barely dared to breathe as I listened harder. A shrill cry rose into the quiet night and a bone-deep chill washed over me. People could still die in their dreams and that sound was definitely getting closer.
I glanced around, taking in the privacy fence circling the small yard, but the thin, wooden boards had lost their illusion of safety. What should have offered protection was now a six-foot-tall cage.
I swiveled around frantically searching for a means of escape. By the back gate, I spied a stack of neglected pots for plants I’d never gotten around to buying. They were stacked in a pyramid against the fence so they wouldn’t fall over.
Before I could second guess the audacity of what I was about to attempt, I sprinted across the yard. I hit the stack at a dead run and jumped on top without a thought for whether or not they could actually hold me. The pyramid teetered and swayed, but it was too late to change course now.
I launched up with all of my strength. Pots clattered behind me, shattering as they smashed to ground. My right leg hit the top of the fence. I tumbled over and landed in a bruised heap on the other side. The pain scarcely registered as another howl pierced the night. The nearness of it sent me back into motion. I lurched blindly in the opposite direction of the approaching sound. Ms. Oliver’s cat yowled as I bolted past it and the haze clouding my mind solidified. All rational thought departed, replaced with one, singular drive: run.
Cars blared as I appeared in their path. I veered away and kept going. There was no time, no logic, only darkness filled with fear and streaking lights as I became lost in my nightmare.
I stumbled as my run slowed and panted for air. The world tilted as I swayed. I took a step to steady myself and my injured leg buckled. At a loss for what else to do, I crawled behind a line of shrubs, determined to sleep out the rest of this awful dream.
I blinked to find light in dappled patches all around me.
Morning already?
It was difficult to tell what had woken me up—my thirst or the persistent ache dominating my entire body. I rolled over and came face-to-face with small, round leaves. I closed my eyes and desperately prayed that when I reopened them it would be to see a bland white wall and not dense green foliage. No such luck.
I whimpered and fought to keep from completely melting down.
Why am I dreaming this? Why can’t I wake up?
The raucous call of a bird startled me out of my spiraling depression. Dream or not, there were some basic necessities that needed to be tended to. At the top of that list was finding water. I poked my head out of the bushes to take a look around, the sound of dry leaves crackling outrageously loud in my ears.
How do animals put up with this nonsense?
My breath misted in front of me as I let out a heavy sigh.
That’s one plus, at least I’m not cold.
I stuck one hand out.
Foot, I mentally corrected. A flash of stubbornness surged through me.
There’s still a chance I’m actually in a coma and none of this is real.
The hope grew dim as I stepped into the bright light of morning. I recognized the fact that my refuge was a row of bushes by an abandoned house and that I was clearly in a suburban neighborhood.
Why does everything look funny?
I squinted against the sharp detail of the world that seemed to have become brighter and more vibrant while I slept.
I don’t even have a name for most of these shades.
At least there aren’t any people around.
There was no telling how someone would react to seeing something like me on their neighborhood street. Try to catch it? Call animal control? Scream in terror?
I erred on the side of caution and stuck closely to the houses, keeping a wary eye out for cars and the casual passerby as I looked for water. A few streets later, a birdbath sitting in the front lawn of a modest colonial caught my attention. The simple shallow bowl on a pedestal was nothing spectacular decoration-wise, but at that moment I’d never seen a more beautiful piece of yard art. I checked the area then darted across the narrow street. Just because I couldn’t see anyone, didn’t mean anyone couldn’t see me. Once there, I eyed the water skeptically.
That’s definitely not filtered.
I braced my front paws on the rim and tentatively dipped my tongue into the questionable liquid. All pretense of caution vanished the moment my body registered water. My tongue scraped concrete as I greedily lapped up every drop the shallow b
asin had to offer. The winter air made the liquid almost sweet with cold.
Thirst at least partially satiated, I sought some more shrubs to hide in while I considered my plight. The indisputable detail of everything made it harder and harder to believe I was asleep; not even the most lucid dreams were this thorough. I slumped into the dirt then let out a violent sneeze at the cloud of dust the move created…and didn’t wake up.
Fuck my life. This is real.
I had no idea how it had happened, how to undo it, or even if it could be undone.
Will I be stuck like this forever?
I shook off the depressing thoughts and focused on what I could control. Before I could even begin to make a list, my stomach growled. Without thought, I ran my tongue over the points of my teeth.
Those are definitely bad news. There goes all hope of begging for scraps and handouts. What am I going to eat? How am I going to eat?
A garbage bin nestled beside a house caught my eye. Even from this distance, the pungent smell of rotting food made my nose twitch. Like the sounds and colors, the smell held infinitely more dimension, details woven into a pattern layered with intricacies—all of which were absolutely revolting.
Grumbling to myself in a near perfect echo of my gnawing hunger, I abandoned my shelter. I trotted past another cul-de-sac and my steps slowed as the tantalizing smell of charcoal and meat filled my nostrils. I lifted my nose to the air and breathed deep, savoring the delicate balance of paprika, garlic, and salt.
A loud bark rang out across the suburban landscape effectively breaking my concentration. I quickly dropped my head and scanned the area.
When I looked up to check my surroundings and get my bearings, I realized my hunger had driven me from the cover of the houses around me. A bark came again and I flinched. As the barking continued, my feet tangled up beneath me with conflicting signals to bolt and to stand my ground.
