Dream Me(3)

Mental—no actual—fist pump!

Home. It sounded so nice.

__________

Since it was dark, I couldn’t see much of Sugar Dunes, but I could smell the pine trees. Yep. Pine trees when I was expecting palm trees. At that point I was still hoping for Miami Beach, and the salty beach smell was unmistakable. But when we finally got our bags and loaded up the truck and started driving, all that was visible for miles and miles on either side of the two-lane highway were the dark silhouettes of a pine forest and the brightest night sky I’d ever seen. The highway was buffered by a strip of palmetto shrubs, and it seemed like we’d been driving forever when it finally spit us out onto a sand and gravel road. A beat-up, lopsided street sign that said Trout Lane didn’t sound too promising. I had to live on a street named after a fish? Dad turned the truck into a driveway where the mailbox was marked “22.” As far as I could tell, there weren’t any other houses on this street, so I wasn’t sure why we were 22 instead of one or maybe even 1000. But there it was, 22 Trout Lane.

Welcome home again, Babe.





Zat


There was no use pretending he was going back to sleep. Pretending for who? Uncle was unreachable and who knew when he’d wake again? Uncle was a perfect physical specimen, barely in need of nutrients or water, and able to sleep most of the time. By comparison, Zat was ashamed. His overly active thoughts and imagination kept him awake for hours at a time, boosting his metabolic rate and demanding a caloric intake which could sustain three ordinary citizens.

Zat was hungry. And thirsty, too. He pressed his fingertips against his eyeballs until they ached. Finally, he rose up on legs weak from disuse. He slipped through the solar door which reconstructed its cells in his wake. His home, like all the others for as far as he could see, was black and cubical in shape. Razor-thin solar cells kept the insides of these homes cool and bright. Most were unoccupied now, abandoned as their former owners sought the safety of new worlds far from this doomed planet.

Earth. Zat knew it had once been green and covered with enormous bodies of water, blue to the eye when observed from far off in space. Earth, in its infancy, was a beautiful sight to behold. But now, in its old age, drawing ever closer to the expanding sun, it was hideous. Hostile. Beautiful only in the collective memory of the human species.

Outside, there was still enough light to guide Zat to the community center. It was better that way, although the heat was barely tolerable. The vipers didn’t come out until late at night. They were harder to spot in the dark, even with the powerful beam of his light stick. And to die from the venom of a viper attack before he ever had the chance to . . . that was an irony he wouldn’t allow himself to consider.

He stooped to snap a small limb from the juicy cactus plant, and he sucked noisily until the only thing left was the dried outer skin which he dropped on the ground. There was powdered beetle meal at home. He’d have some later when Uncle was asleep and couldn’t scold him for staying awake so long. He’d prepare a hefty supply of the meal for Uncle before he left for good. Enough maybe to last him until the end. But Uncle would find someone after Zat was gone. He’d make a new alliance with one of the others who chose to stay behind.

The gargantuan sun seemed to melt the edge of the horizon as it slowly descended from sight. Zat was glad to be out of the house. Better to deal with the rude questions of those still preparing to leave. Saying their goodbyes at the community center. Trading rumors and theories of what was in store for them. Better to do that than to be alone with his thoughts for one more second.

Sahra might be there, but he hoped not. No one could understand why Zat refused the chance to match with her. He was old enough, and they’d both been entered into the lottery, but Zat withdrew before it was held. He knew Sahra would match with him; her father would make sure of it. But he couldn’t go through with it because it wasn’t honest. It would have been unfair to Sahra. His heart could never settle with her.

She was astonished when he first told her of his decision. They wouldn’t be leaving together with his family. Or her family. He had his own dreams. Others had done it successfully, he trusted. Maybe there would be more news this very day from Pioneer One, the first to forge the path Zat soon hoped to follow. If there was any news he’d hear it first at the community center. Maybe a bit of information that would calm his last-minute jitters.

But jitters or not, this was his decision. Zat is a dreamer, he’d heard the others snickering behind his back. He’s spent too much time in the sun. He can’t think logically anymore. Heading straight to a certain death. People didn’t dream anymore. Thankfully, they did in the early times when the Earth was still a wondrous thing that humans wrote about with as much love as they felt for another person.

What a wonderful thing it is to dream. To live out random and fantastical experiences every night. He knew dreams could be terrifying, but he also knew they could be magical.

The red-headed girl, Babe. What did she dream about?

He couldn’t wait to find out.





BABE’S BLOG


WHO I AM . . .

I came all the way from California with its much higher energy level and much denser population. In California I had (have) a boyfriend, Perry, who seemed to instantly appreciate me and managed to fall in love with me in just a few short weeks. We both like to write and . . . well, we both like to write. We were inseparable, until we were separated last week, just two days after my seventeenth birthday.