Forgotten Flames

She still couldn't shake the previous night's dream. It was as vivid to her now as it was while she had been dreaming. Maybe, she thought, I should write it down. Maybe if I write about the dream and evict it from my psyche, I'll feel better. "That's it", she said aloud. "I'll exorcise it."

She stood up and flipped the stereo on. Loud music filled the room as she made her way to the bathroom. She left the door open and turned on the shower. She stepped in purposely concentrating on the music. The heavy bass resounded in her head as she attempted to focus on the rhythms buried deep in the song. She tried to fill the space in her head with the music beating behind the sound of the water but it was no use. The dream wouldn't vacate that easily.

She dried off, walked into the living room and turned the music off. She sat down at the kitchen table and mulled over the images filling her head. Grandmother's house. The wrap-around front porch. The way the boards creaked when you stepped on them. A child peeking through the blinds as the boards creaked and the dark figure made his way to the front door. The booming noise as the old door rattled. Her breath coming in quick, hard gasps as the doorknob rattled from left to right and from right to left. The sound of glass breaking as something was thrust through the window and...

She got up from the kitchen table and took a glass out of the cupboard. She ran the tap and held the glass under the stream. She noticed her hand was trembling.

Every night, the dream moved a little further along, nudging her memory, prodding it towards a place she did not want to go. She went back to the idea of writing the dream down so she grabbed a legal pad and pen and went back to the kitchen table. She had barely put the pen to paper when there was a booming knock on her front door. She was so startled, she shot up off the chair and nearly knocked over the glass of water. She slowly made her way to the front door and looked out the window. The UPS man was already headed down the stairs and back to his truck. She opened the door, picked up the package and went back inside.

She found the remote and turned on the television. The local news was on. A warehouse downtown was burning out of control. There were fire trucks and fire fighters fighting the huge, raging fire. She watched intently with the nagging feeling that there was something familiar in that scene. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on but was right there on the periphery of her mind. Something she did not really want to remember.

Suddenly, her dream came rushing back at her with a ferocity that drove her to her knees. Everything was coming in and she was unable to stop it. It was like the flood gates opened and the force of the flow kept her from pushing the doors shut again. Images of breaking glass, the smell of smoke, the uncomfortable warmth of her skin, her fright and reluctance to open the door because she had done something bad. Something that could not, and would not ever, be forgiven. The fireman breaking the window of the front door and crashing in. The fireman finding her behind the couch and picking her up to take her outside. More firemen running into the house and one of them coming out with a bundle in his arms. Water hoses and trucks, the feel and the smell of the cool, green grass on her cheek.

The memory of her grandmother having coffee at the kitchen table then getting up to feed the leftovers to the dog. The memory of standing by the gas stove playing, experimenting with how fast it took different things to burn. The memory of taking a bunch of paper napkins and holding them over the open flame, surprised and amazed at how quickly the flame caught; so fast in fact, that she threw the bundle and ran out of the room. The memory of the slamming of the back door and of her grandmother's scream as she walked into the kitchen. The memory of blades of grass, of the ambulance men picking up the bundle and of seeing her grandmother materialize and knowing that she was never coming back. The notion that it was time to sleep. She remembered, even back then, that it was time to sleep. So with the scent of grass filling her nose and the blades tickling her cheeks, she went to sleep.