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The Dream


The Dream That Felt More Than Real
Dreams usually aren’t considered important or taken very seriously, but one night, when I was eighteen, I had a dream that changed my life. When I was fourteen, my brother passed away in a tragic car accident. He was only twenty-two years old. I was devastated when my brother died. I always wished I could talk to him one more time. Little did I know, in a weird way, I was about to get my wish.
The dream started on the Friday night before my nineteenth birthday. I remember that night I was exhausted from swimming all day, and couldn’t wait to go to bed. I put on my pajamas, turned off the TV, and crawled into bed. It seemed like the dream began the moment my head hit the pillow. I started to hear the faint sound of a radio and felt as if I was moving. Then all of a sudden I heard my brother say, “wakeup!”I opened my eyes and realized I was in my brothers’ red Camaro. I could smell the new car smell along with the smell of new leather. His car felt so real; I had no idea I was dreaming. My brother told me he woke me up to show me his new apartment. All of a sudden, I heard a clap of lightning, followed by thunder. It started to rain. My brother’s car started to pick up speed, and I rolled my eyes. He looked at me and obviously saw I was perturbed, so he started to slow the car down. I hated when my brother drove to fast. I used to constantly tell my brother how much his driving bothered me. It was so selfish for him to drive recklessly. Not only did he risk hurting himself or someone else, he risked hurting his family. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled up to his apartment complex. It was still raining, so I grabbed my brother’s grey Auburn University sweatshirt from the backseat to cover my head. He parked the car, and we got out. I followed him towards some stairs. As we went up, I could hear our feet echo on the concrete steps. My brother used his key to open the apartment door, and we hurried inside. For some odd reason, the kitchen was the only area of the apartment lit up. The rest of the apartment was pitch black; it seemed like it didn’t exist. I took a seat at his kitchen table, and he followed. I talked to my brother about what was going on in school, about my friends, about what I’d been doing. It seemed like we talked for hours at that kitchen table. Then, after some time, we stopped talking all together. Out of nowhere, my brother’s demeanor seemed to change; he looked upset. “You have to go now,” he said. “Ok, are you ready to take me home?” I asked. “No, you just need to leave now,” he stammered.
I was very confused and angry. I thought my brother had lost his mind. I could’ve easily slept on the couch and gone home in the morning. The fact that he would let me just leave in the middle of the night was weird; he was always very protective over me. I quickly got up from the table and stormed out the front door. I held on to the black metal handrail as I ran down the concrete steps. The rail was cold and still wet from the rain, and my hand suddenly slipped. I completely lost my balance and fell down the remaining steps. When I landed at the bottom of the steps, I wiped my lips, and saw some blood. I could taste the metallic, iron taste of blood in my mouth and began to cry.
That is when I woke up; I was sitting almost straight up in bed. I realized there were tears streaming down my face. I took a deep breath and started to go over the dream in my head from beginning to end. I really wanted to keep crying, but I decided to smile instead. I’m not crazy; I know this was just a dream and not some way my brother was trying to communicate with me. Even if I believed in that sort of thing, that just wasn’t my brothers style. I know it sounds silly, but I think it was cool to see and talk to my brother that night even though I know it wasn’t real.
About two years ago on Christmas, I went over to my dad’s house. After we ate dinner, I asked my dad if he had any old tee shirts I could have. I love my dad’s old tee shirts. They are so comfortable, soft, and great to sleep in. No matter how many times those old shirts are washed, they always smell like home to me. My dad told me to look in his cedar chest in the closet. I opened the chest, and picked out a few tee shirts. I was about to close the chest when I saw my brothers grey Auburn University sweatshirt. The sweatshirt looked identical to the one I used in my dream to cover my head from the rain. I put the sweatshirt in the pile with the tee shirts. Whenever I look at that sweatshirt, it not only reminds me of my brother, it also reminds me of the craziest dream I have ever had
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jessicarabbit10
jessicarabbit10

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