The sky was grey and dreary as I rode around the corner of the entrance to my old subdivision. The dark, deep brown house that terrified me when I was little stood ominously to my left. I rode slowly forward looking for a shorter or quicker path to my destination. I was searching for something, someone I think.
I came upon my old house and the gate stood partially opened. Riding closer I was able to kick it wider and pedal through, my sister rode with me keeping close behind. I followed up along the gate riding on a cement slab that I don't remember being there when I was awake, but it was there now so I lead my bike over it. My old swing set was bigger here in my dreams; longer, darker, foreign. I continued past it looking around for the other opening in the tall wooden privacy fence. Moving my bike onward fear began to grow in my gut. Maybe it was anxiety. Feelings can be so similar in dreams.
As I pushed on the pedals of the bike, that I once rode when I was young, I felt a pain on the bottoms of my feet. Sharp, stabbing pain. I pushed harder, still the pain only grew. I looked down to my feet and lifted them away from the bicycle. Where there had been flat, plastic, white pedals was only the metal that had once held them. On both sides the metal stood straight up, pinched closed on the ends. Why did this experience have to be so painful all of the sudden? I put my feet back down and started moving again, ignoring the pain that followed each rotation.
Finally, the other entrance gate in the fence was within view. I sped to it hoping that the new owners to this house would not catch me, I didn't know them, they could be dangerous. I zipped through, rolling into the street. My eyes focused on the house that I came here for. A little one story ranch just down the road a few houses before the cul-de-sac. Its roof slanted downward over the dark blue siding. The front door was tucked back into the porch hidden behind some tall foliage. As I neared it the other homes that lived in my childhood memories blurred together; foggy relics of places and people I once knew.
After what seemed like an eternity I reached the house where I had spent many days playing and laughing. I hopped off my bike and looked back. My sister was still there right behind me but everything else had disappeared. It was only the two of us and this house. I took a deep breath and climbed the steps to on the porch leading to the door, raised my fist to knock and paused in fear of what would happen next. I urged myself to keep going. With my stomach in my throat I rapped lightly on the door and waited for an answer.
A tall, wide set man in a tan bowling shirt replied to my hesitant knocking by opening the door and stepping out. His dark brown eyes glistened as he smiled broadly down toward my sister and me. Looking up at this abnormally tall man I asked him for a specific family name and whether they resided there. He chuckled kindly and replied, "No, they don't live here anymore. Maybe you could try one of the other houses." He pointed off in the direction of the cul-de-sac.
I whirled around and suddenly I stood at the end of the drive staring wide-eyed at the picture before me. The world around me had disappeared and I was alone in front of a huge yellow house. The windows and door were as dark as ink that had spilled across the table from the bottle. As friendly as the color may have been it was the dark black of the rest of the house that caused my stomach to leap back to my throat. It was as if the house was telling me what I already knew.
The blank darkness of the glass hurled itself toward me as the memories flooded back. I wasn't searching for a family. I was searching for one person. One person that could not be found here in this small blue house that I rode to. Not there in that bright yellow house with the jet black features marring its sunny face. I already know where this person is and they can never be found again. Not here in this dream of mine and not in the world where I am awake.
Still I search. For fifteen years I have searched. Looking here in this world of dreams knowing that this place might be the only place I can find them. I still can't find them. My heart begging to be forgiven for a fault from long ago. To take back events. To change the order of time. To alter a moment so small and so fleeting that it should not have mattered at all. It was worth the flicker of a humming bird's wing, the flutter of an eye before it closes to sleep, or a whisper in the wind that blows through the autumn trees. These things, these small insignificant things change every moment that follows like a ripple in a calm glass lake gleaming as the sun begins to rise from its slumber.
It is curious how everything froze in my one small moment, trapped by death to remain un-mended. Rippling for always by a miniscule stone tossed repeatedly into the same center in a continuos loop through time. To leave me searching forever for the shore that may stop it. Forever for the mend to the fault.
I fear I will have to search my dreams for eternity.
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