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A strong gust of wind, and my heart plunges as I almost drop her. With trembling fingers, I put her back in her mother’s belly and carefully restore the other nine pieces. I’ve just screwed the top on the biggest one when I hear the sound of raised voices coming from the direction of our house.
Scooping up my doll, I run over the uneven, rocky shore. I’ve stayed out longer than I should’ve, and it’s time for supper. A drop of cold rain hits my cheek, and my eyes are fixed on the ground, so I don’t fall. It’s not until I reach the dark gray sand that I look up, all the way across the grassy field to where my father should be.
It’s when I see them standing there. Three men I don’t know, facing down my papa. Our eyes meet, and he holds out a hand. “Stay back,Ahren…Stay ba—”
A staccatopop!, and he falls to his knees. He’s a tall man, so his head still reaches their chest.
His eyes are still on mine, and my legs cramp as I try to run faster.Ahrenmeans angel, his pet name for me. Another pop, and he falls flat on his face, his limbs limp at his sides. I drop to the ground as if I’ve been shot, my voice a shrill wail. My face is in the sand, my fingers curling in the soft silt. Strong hands grasp my arms, dragging me away.
My doll… I clutch her in my palm. She’s all I have left of him. Struggling, I try to fight them off, to push them away, but I’m too little. I have no power.Papa…
“Reanna, it’s okay… Shh, it’s okay.”
With a yelp, I realize I’m in my bed on all fours, searching like a child, throwing my blankets aside, a thin sheen of sweat coating my body.
Ali is at my bedside shushing me, and my forehead drops to my hands. I struggle to catch my breath, fighting against the hot tears threatening my eyes.
“It’s all gone,” I whisper.
“You were having a bad dream.”
I sit on my heels, struggling for calm. “I’m sorry, I…”
I don't know what to say.
“Were you dreaming about the war?” Her voice is calm, mascara-smudged eyes round with empathy.
Pressing my lips together, I decide to lean into her narrative, even if it’s false. “Maybe? I don’t really remember.”
I remember.
She sits carefully on my bed. “You know my major is psychotherapy, but my focus is on dreams and dream therapy.”
I’m not talking to her about this one, so I try to play off what just happened. “You can major in dream interpretation?”
Pushing off the bed, I go to where I set out my clothes for today. I intentionally chose something memorable, and I need to focus on my future, not the past.
“It’s more talking about the stressors behind your dreams.” She stands and takes a floral dress out of her closet. “It’s based on Freudian dream theory. Dreams are expressions of repressed and unconscious wishes. Your dream is the fulfillment of that wish.”
“Cool.” I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and apply some light makeup.
Ali is right behind me. “If you ever want to talk, I’m not licensed yet, but I’m a good listener.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Grabbing the brush, I smooth it through my hair, giving my outfit and face a quick inspection.
Low-cut jeans, short, tight top, red lips and a hint of mascara on my blue eyes. This should get his attention.
“You look really pretty.” Ali frowns at herself in the mirror. “I look like I got run over by a truck. Remind me not to do shots again.”
“I’ll try.” If I remember college correctly, it won’t matter.
Heading back into the room, I grab my books, and she pulls on a pair of ankle boots.
“Coffee? Hot chocolate?” She stands, and I nod, thinking.
“Coffee.”
Waiting in line at the coffee cart in the quad, Ali surveys her schedule. “I can’t believe we don’t have a single class together.”
