The
mist had rolled in from the bay around midnight. She’d been up watching it all
night. There was no sound, no movement in the town that she could see. No stray
car lights heading down River Rd. from someone getting off work at the bar at 4
am.
Often, when Irma couldn’t sleep,
she’d sit on her side porch, watching the little lights in the town flicker off
one by one as everyone finished up their dinners and tv shows, or their nightly
romp in the sheets, and went to sleep. She’d been cursed with insomnia since
childhood. Her mother said it was because she ate snacks too close to bedtime.
And had she said her prayers? Her pastor said it was because her soul was in
torment and to make sure to read the right verses before bed. Her father said
it was because the bug zapper was hung right over her window, buzzing all night
long in her ear.
Irma knew it was because of her
dreams. A night without a dream was a sweet repose for her. Her every night was
filled with visions, moments of clarity through the fog of sleeping language.
Her dreams had weight. They happened. They made her nervous. They made her not
want to go to sleep.
Oftentimes friends would laugh when
she told them about her nightly visions. She’d come to them with a story about
seeing them the night before, and they’d chuckle. Sometimes they wouldn’t want
to know. Usually her dreams were of such an everyday nature (Josh wore that exact
sweater to dinner, Ann had just celebrating a wedding anniversary, John got his
hair cut) that they were non-threatening to both Irma and those that she dreamt
of.
Sometimes, however, they were more
elusive. They were less specifically about an everyday event and more connected
to things unsettling. Things that Irma didn’t want to know about, things she
didn’t want to see happening in her dreams because she knew before too long
they would be happening in real life.
It had been a week after his dream
that Charlie had passed away suddenly. He was found by his mother on the floor
of his apartment. He was only 24. Drugs were to blame. Irma had known it was
coming. She hadn’t spoken to Charlie in years, but she knew something horrible
was about to happen. She hadn’t been sure at the time whether the dream had
been about Charlie, as his face had evaded her. But she’d known something
dreadful was about to happen. The dream had caused her to wake for several
nights after that, always fearful of her phone ringing late at night. It had.
Of
course, not many people called Irma anymore. Her clairvoyant personality kept most
people a good distance away from her. People weren’t very comfortable knowing that
someone had seen a little piece of their future. Irma wasn’t very comfortable
with it either, but there really wasn’t anything she could do about it.
This
latest dream was the strangest and most unsettling one that she’d had in a long
time. It had come to her several times, in various interpretations, but always
the same ending. It had kept her awake for nearly two weeks. First the mist
would descend. Then the lights would go out. Then a horrible wailing. Then
silence.
So
when she saw the mist beginning to roll in from the murky waters, she knew the
time had come. Her house was perched up on a cliff overlooking the choppy
Atlantic waters, giving her the perfect aspect of the town. Every light was
extinguished.
“It
should be soon now…” Irma muttered to no one but herself. She stood and walked
across the yard quickly to the hurricane shelter that had been put there years
before by a previous homeowner. She had several, chunky candles in her left
pocket and a lighter in the other. Every day since the dream, she’d placed a
bagful of non-perishables in the shelter, in anticipation of the coming storm.
The dusty shelves were now lined with assorted cans of beans and soups, boxes
of pasta, rows upon rows of bottled water. There were several bars of dark
chocolate too, as well as any feminine needs she might have while down there.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d be. She climbed down into the dark cellar, one
lit candle held out to show her where the wonky step was, and closing the door
behind her securely, she laid down on the cot she had prepared and went to
sleep.
Finally,
a long, dreamless sleep.
Outside,
there came a horrible wailing. It began in the town and wafted out over the
waters. Then, there was silence.
