Dreams and the Secrets they Tell...

I thought that was a rather ominous title... What really happened is not nearly as cool.

So I had a dream last night... It was crazy intense and I woke up because I was trying to figure out how to help the main character (the me in the dream) get out of a pretty sticky situation. Oh, and I was about to pee my pants.

Why is it that dreams make things thirty times scarier? even though they really don't seem that bad? Well, I was terrified... And then I stayed up for the next three hours finishing up the story. SOOOO... It's crazy intense, super melodramatic and I'm going to write it, cause it came out of no where.

However... I have NO background story. So I'll begin where my dream ended... It's gonna sound really, really dramatic, forgive me.


Every night after a long and hard day at work I made my way home on my cute little pink vespa. It was good twenty minute commute and the weather was starting to get cold. Even through my fuzzy beanie I could hear all four motorcycles rev their engines and start my way. My stomach dropped and I whirled around to see who was behind me. In the dark I couldn't even make out their shapes. It made them seem ominous and all powerful, like the serial killer you are sure is hiding under your bed. Panic made my thoughts jump and tangle together. I mean it wasn't like this was a surprise, I knew they were going to come after me eventually. It was just so different to have it happen now. It had seemed so far off--

BAM!

My vespa, which I had named Charlie, rammed into the barrier that separated the road and the river. I went flying and landed heavily on my back. Fortunately the continents of my backpack took most of the fall. The air left me and I began to slide down toward the river, showers of rock and dirt proceeding me. Desperately I threw my hands out, grabbing at brush and rocks to control the decent of my body and not really succeeding. All the while collecting bumps, bruises and cuts from various pointy rocks and thorny bushes. When I finally hit the water I was thoroughly pummeled and it was almost, almost a relief when I submerged into the frigid water.

Instinctively I struggled upward for air, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Didn't the water know it was still fall? My limbs were already finding it difficult to move. Firmly I planted my feet and took several deep breaths, running the plan through my mind again. Above me I could hear the motorcycles pulling over and voices shouting to each other.

I had to act now or they would kill me and that would be the end of it.

Steeling myself I let the weight of my backpack pull me under. Once I was under the water I let everything melt away, it was just me and the river. I couldn't rush this part, everything had to be done just right. The river was gently pulling me downstream and I need to move quickly for my plan to work.

I pulled out the oxygen tank I had been hoisting around all month. I hadn't really known when they were going to make they're move so I had prepared weeks in advance. Putting the mouthpiece in my mouth I took a deep breath and let it out. I could breathe. It was going to be okay. Anxiousness and adrenaline was still messing with my movements and hindering my hands, but I did my best to work with it rather than against it.

I had wrist and huge ankle weights that would make it easier for me to stay under the water and near the river base. For my plan to work I had to stay under water until it was believable that I had drowned. I pulled out two steel poles and rammed them into the river base and braced myself against them. Once my backpack was empty I let it go, hoping the motorcyclists would think it was my body. I needed to get as far away from them as possible and for that to happen I had to do the unlikely: I had to move upstream, against the river.

After that it was like I had a list of things to complete.
1. Strap oxygen tank onto back... Check.
2. Get to edge of river were the pull is weakest... Check.
3. Use poles and begin climb up river.... in progress.

It didn't help that the water was freezing. I ended up lying flat against the floor literally crawling upstream, using the poles as braces. Progress was slow, and I kept worrying that they were going to grab me and pull me out of the water. But they never did. And so I just kept going.

I don't know how far I went, I didn't dare poke my head out of the water. When my tank was finally out of air, I crawled out of the water as quietly as I could and waited for the tell-tale sound of a motorbike.

Nothing.

As quietly and as quickly as I could with my teeth chittering and hands shaking, I tied the weights, poles and oxygen tank together and threw them into the river, they sank to the bottom and I could only hope they wouldn't be discovered.

I pulled off any excess clothing I had and threw that into the river, it would only slow me down. Then I made my feet move. I was shaking from cold and the only way I was going to warm up was if I started to run. It was slow going. All I wanted to do was sit down and sleep. I was exhausted and my muscles were cold and sore. They groaned each time I moved and stiffly obeyed my commands. I had to stay off the roads, they were on bikes and they would be patrolling the river. My best bet was to move uphill into the forest.

The commute from work went through a canyon. It was a nice scenic drive that was beautiful at any time of year, and best yet three quarters of the drive was in close proximity to the river. When I had been forming my plan I had thought it likely that they would use the river. It would be a nice way of getting rid of the body, no mess. I had been betting that they wouldn't attack me while I was at work, surrounded by coworkers. It was more likely they would kill me either at home or during the drive home. I had made two plans, just in case, but exit by river had always been the better of the two.

I worked my way up towards the summit of the mountains that surrounded me. There were several places that I had to backtrack and find a new way around. They were impassable because of cliffs or trees and I new I didn't have the strength to try and scale them. I kept one eye on the skies, moving steadily east. It kept me from running around in circles.

Eventually I hit a back dirt road. It was such a relief to finally reach cleared ground that I began to follow it a ways. I rationalized that they wouldn't be looking for me this far up and if I did hear a motor I could always dive for the trees.

The temperature steadily dropped and my sopping wet clothes amplified the freezing air, letting it seep into my bones. I needed to find somewhere to stop soon. I might be forced to find a cave or light a fire. I didn't want to make it easy for them to find me, but what was the point if I was rendered useless from hypothermia?

When I came to a fork, I chose the smaller path. Frost's poem made the decision for me. It made all the difference.

It led to a cabin, two stories, small, and just what I needed. I checked the front door, locked, duh. According to the mailbox the cabin belonged to a Corbet family, silently I asked their forgiveness and started to look for possible entries and alarms. All the first floor doors and windows were locked, and I didn't see small white boxes near the entries, or little red lights. I hoped that these people were just very trusting and hadn't put any alarms in. I climbed up the railing of the front porch and pulled myself up to the roof. As luck would have it, one of the windows was ajar. (i was beginning to worry that I might have to go down the chimney.) Silently I slipped into the window and listened for signs of life. I hadn't seen a car, or any vehicle to signify that they were using the cabin, but better safe than sorry.

Cautiously I checked each room, keeping a minimum of one light on. The kitchen had canned goods and a modest supply of dishes. There were two bathrooms, three bedrooms, a small garage for four wheelers, and a small living area/ dining area. I rushed to the bathroom and stripped, jumping into the shower and letting the warm water wash over me, banishing all memories of the cold. It was bliss, pure and simple. I toweled off with an impossibly small towel and threw my clothes into the dryer. I made myself a small meal of beans and corn and snuggled up into one of the beds.

At that moment I didn't care if they found me. I was warm and needed rest. They could do whatever they wanted with me, when they found me. I was going to sleep.