Dream Sweet

by Terence Matedero

I started to walk in the direction of Frank’s house while I waited for my phone to reboot.

  “If he won’t answer the door, I’ll just take a cab.” I thought, as I put my cellphone back in my pocket and continued to walk.

  “What am I doing? I can just call him and see if he’s up. Where is my head lately? Wait, I really don’t want to answer that question. Maybe later. Not right now. I’m just going to walk. Yeah, that’ll make me feel better. Fresh air. Anything but the stench I just left,” I thought.

  ~

  I arrived at Frank’s door. The house was mostly dark except for a light in the front bedroom. I happened to know that was Frank’s room, and not his son’s. Hence, I rang the doorbell.

  “Hold on, I’m coming,” I heard Frank’s muffled voice say.

  He unlocked the door, flipped on the porch light, opened it, and stood there gazing at me for a moment.

  “Damn, Howard, you really look like shit. Come in here,” he said, as he got out of the way. “And kind of smell like shit, too,” He added.

  Frank closed the door and walked over to the couch, piling newspapers and creating a space to sit on. “Here, Howard, sit. Can I get you something? Your usual seven and seven or maybe something hot?”

  I thought about having a drink. I really wanted a drink, but I hadn’t been having such good luck with drinking lately. Then again, I didn’t have to drive anywhere, and I didn’t have to take care of anyone.

  “Sure, Frank. Just a little one.” I made an example with my finger and thumb of about an inch. “This much seven-up, the rest Seagram’s.”

  "You must have had a bad day," Frank said, and went to the liquor cabinet below the breakfast nook that shared the living room space.

  Frank’s house hadn’t been the front page of good housekeeping since Frank’s wife left him two years ago. She ran off with the electrician we had under contract. They went to some impoverished Latin American country or some shit. Said they wanted to make a difference in the world instead of working for piles of menial possessions. I mean, I liked the attitude, but I didn’t like how she went about it. Frank still believed that she was going to come back. She hadn’t filed for a divorce yet, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to see her again. Nor did I wish that on him. He deserved better.

  “Sorry about the mess,” Frank said when he came back with a drink in both hands. “Jake and I don’t keep things up as well as Liz did.”

  I just shrugged my shoulders.

  “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Now, tell me what the fuck is going on with you, man.”

  “You just get right to the point, don't ya'?” I replied. “Can’t you let a guy relax a little and have a few swallows of his drink before you go and get all deep with ’em.”

  “Whatever, man. You’re forgetting who was rousted out of bed when someone called at 10:30 at night.”

  “And it will never go unappreciated, my friend.” Frank always made me feel better. I was glad I came to see him. I knew that he knew about what had happened. I could feel it in the way that he was kidding with me. When the shit was deep, men avoided the real. A little jab here, a little jab there. Some small talk. But nothing too serious. Especially anything that might be misconstrued for something that might have the slightest bit to do with the reason one called on the other for. I didn’t want to talk about the events of the past 24 or so hours. I came here to tell someone about my dreams and what I should do about them. I decided to cut the shit.

  “Frank, do you remember the dream that I was telling you about when Kate was attacked?” I asked.

  Frank nodded his head.

  “Well, I had a very real, very similar type of dream when Brandon was attacked.”

  “You’re shitting me, right?” Frank gave me his complete focus. “Just like the other one. How do you mean?”

  “I had a dream about Brandon being attacked and then I woke up and he was attacked.”

  “The dream that you had of Kate was during the attack, though, right?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess. But I don’t see where that has much to do with it. Brandon could have been attacked while I dreamt of it. I remember him screaming before I passed out, but that could have been after the attack, or beforehand. And Kate, too, well, I’m pretty sure that was during, but it could have been before. I don’t know. I just can’t tell, Frank.”

  “I don’t know either, Howard, I’m just pointing out similarities and differences in case they might have something to do with each other or they might not. You got to look at things from all sides.”

  “I know that, Columbo. AKA smart ass. I just don’t see what difference it makes when I have a dream while something is happening or I have a dream prior to the fact. What if I have a dream after something happens? Does it really matter?”

  “I don’t know.” Frank looked down at his shoes.

  “I’m just trying to figure out why I’m having these dreams and why my dreams are bordering so much on reality that I can’t tell the difference half the time,” I said.

  Frank looked up once again. “You have suffered a head trauma, and you know how little we know about head injuries? Especially when they involve amnesia.”

  “Yeah, well I think that’s the biggest problem. I don’t remember what happened the night of the accident. Is my mind trying to tell me about it when I’m dreaming about it? Is my mind somehow focusing in on events that are happening now or are going to happen, too? See, the fact that I had these two dreams about Kate and Brandon gives me the impression that the dreams I have about the accident have something to do with the accident.”

  Frank was silent for a moment. He started to speak but then quieted again.

  “What?” I asked him.

  He shook his head.

  “You looked like you were going to say something.”

  “No, not really. I was just going to ask you about things that happened before the dreams. Was there anything that you did or didn’t do each time you dreamt, or was it all completely random?”

  I took a large swallow of my drink, draining it. “I need another drink first,” I said, holding my glass out for Frank to take it.

  “You know where the stuff is. First drink free, second drink, you work for,” he said.

  “Right, I forgot your silly-ass rules.”

  “Hey, they’re not…, well, maybe they are, but they’re mine and this is my house, numb nuts.”

  “Whatever, man.” I got up and fixed myself another highball.

  “Well?” he asked, when I sat back down.

  “Well,” I mocked. “I started having them in the hospital. Concussion, morphine, wasn’t too much of a stretch. The night that Kate was attacked I had a highball or two and took a sleeping pill.”

  “You took a sleeping pill with alcohol, man. That’s fucked up.”

  “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me. But, in my defense, I needed sleep and I was getting pretty desperate.”

  “No wonder you don’t remember if you were dreaming or awake.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, the doctor said that I, wait, that’s not pertinent. Anyway, there were just some things that happened in the dream that couldn’t have happened in real life.”

  “Oh, you mean, like not finding a mess on the comforter.”

  “No, well, yes, well, shit, man.”

  “What about the doctor, what did he say?” Frank asked.

  I twirled an ice cube in my drink with my finger and thought about whether I should tell Frank about the sleeping pills, or not. I decided that I might as well.

  “What he told me was that the sleeping pill couldn’t have caused a psychotic break even with the alcohol because it wasn’t a narcotic. What I didn’t tell you is that the sleeping pills that I got from the pharmacy weren’t the same sleeping pill that Dr. Morrisey prescribed for me.”

  Frank squinted into his glass and replied, "What do you mean, did the pharmacist make a mistake or somet
hing?"

  “No, not exactly.”

  Frank tilted his head to the left and I knew he wanted me to explain, so I did. I told him about Gerald, and how he gave me something similar, but not the same. How I couldn’t find it anywhere listed on rx.com and how I only took it the night that Kate was attacked.

  “Wow, man. There are so many things wrong with that story, and so many levels of wrongness (is that a word?). Anyway, where was I? It doesn’t matter. I’m just going to sit here for a moment and let everything that you just told me sink in enough to find some sanity in the midst of all of it, there, buddy.”

  “By the way, you’re in pretty good spirits considering your son was just murdered.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by murdered, but I didn’t push it. I remembered the last time we spoke when I thought I heard him call me a murderer, so I just said, “Not exactly. I don’t think the full force of it has hit me, yet,” and let the silence fill the room for the moment.

  He had one of those obnoxious cuckoo clocks in his living room. It was Liz’s, I supposed that’s why he hadn’t taken it down yet, but he did figure out how to silence the cuckoo, it’s just that the thing still made an awful ticking noise. At that moment, it was very loud. I was starting to experience tunnel vision even thought I knew I didn’t have that much to drink.

  “Tick, tock, tick, tock.” My breathing became louder. Frank’s breathing became louder. I started to hear two heart beats. His and mine. Then a third. Was that Jake’s? I closed my eyes because of dizziness and just tried to focus on my own breathing.

  “Yo, Howie, everything okay?”

  “Uh- huh,” I thought I said aloud, but Frank got up, walked across the room, shook me, and repeated his question.

  I opened my eyes slightly and nodded my head. “I’m just suddenly very tired, Frank,” I managed to say. “Can I just…?” I trailed off.

  “You just go ahead and rest right there man.”

  I nodded and wondered how he knew what I was thinking.

  “I just do, Howard,” he said.

  I heard Frank turn a light switch and the darkness behind my eyelids grew darker. I felt him cover me with a blanket and then I felt him kiss me on the forehead.

  “What the fuck,” I said, and opened my eyes.

  Donna was standing over me. She wasn’t wearing anything but her little satin bathrobe that barely covered her ass.

  “Come to bed, honey. I have a surprise for you.”

  “Huh?” I mumbled.

  I didn’t remember standing, but I was walking behind my wife watching the mounds at the bottom of her bathrobe swish back and forth across the satin fabric. Which, beside the fact that it always made me hard watching her ass, it also made me think of the old joke. “Some people are tit men, some people are leg men, I’m just an ass man,” I said aloud.

  “That’s right, Howie, you keep following my ass. I have something for you, baby, then you can give me something.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled.

  I eventually noticed that she was leading me into Frank’s den. The lights were off, but I could hear someone moaning softly as we approached.

  Donna flipped on the light and I saw Jim lying on the bed with only a bloody t-shirt on. He had hold of a severed head and was moving it up and down his cock. The head was a woman’s and I could see Jim’s cock come out of the back of the woman’s throat every time he moved it back and forth, coagulated blood leaking from both holes.

  He stopped, and looked up at me. “Hey, Howie, want some of this?” he asked. “I’m sure Janie won’t mind.” He tossed her head at me and as I caught it, Donna went over to Jim and started to lick his cock.

  In between slurps, she said to me, “Come here, honey. Put that head down and do me in the ass. I know you want to.”

  I looked down at Janie’s head and her skin began to fall off her face. I fell back and threw her head towards the wall. Most of her hair and scalp came off in my hands. Catching myself from falling all the way to the floor, I said, “Fucking nasty,” as someone grabbed my shoulder and shook it.

  I turned around and Frank was standing over me. I was lying on his couch.

  “Shit, not again,” I said.

  ~

  “Let me guess, you had a bad dream?” Frank asked me.

  “Let’s just say that this one was one of the worst,” I said, as I sat up.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  I could see that Frank had just woken up. I glanced at the cuckoo clock and it was after midnight.

  “Nah, Frank, you go on back to bed; I’m just going to call a cab and go home.”

  “No, man, don’t do that, I’ll give you a ride. Just let me get my…”

  “Really, Frank, it’s fine. I’m clear across town. You need your sleep more than I need a ride. After all, you’re the one that’s taking care of everything with the jobsites right now.”

  Frank hesitated, “Well, at least take my car home. You can always swing it by tomorrow, lunch time, or after work, and I can give you a ride back to your house then. Unless you’re working tomorrow, which I doubt.”

  “Nah, that’s pretty much the last thing on my mind. I got arrangements to make…”

  “Say no more. I’ll go get the Jetta keys,” he said, as he started walking toward the kitchen. “You good to drive, right?”

  “Absolutely. That dream woke my ass right up.”

  Frank left the living room and continued into the kitchen. I knew that he kept his keys hanging by the back door, so I didn’t follow him. He was gone for a couple of minutes and came back jingling the keys.

  “Hey, Donna left a message on the machine about an hour ago. Said she was looking for you. You should call her before you leave, she sounded pretty upset.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll be home soon enough,” I said. “She’s the one that left me hangin’ in the first place, she can wait. Besides, what could possibly have happened that is worse than what has already happened the past few days?”

  Frank handed me the keys and said “She’s in the garage. Let me open the door for you then you can be on your way.”

  I nodded and followed him.

  22

  When I arrived at the house, it looked like every light in the place was on. Donna’s side of the garage was empty with the door left open. The garage light was on, too.

  “What the fuck?” I asked myself.

  I pulled the Jetta into the driveway and parked in front of my side of the garage, got out of the car, walked into the garage, and hit the door button. As I watched the door close, I noticed another car parked on the other side of the street. The McKinnleys usually never had cars in front of their house. It looked familiar, too, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before. Just as I turned to walk into house, I saw a flickering light in it, like someone was lighting a smoke.

  Curious, I waited for the door to finish closing, because I couldn’t reverse it halfway through, and opened it again. Before it opened enough for me to see out into the street, I heard an engine start and tires squeal. When I made it back out front, there was nothing but some distant tail lights and the smell of burnt rubber.

  “Damn, I wish I could remember whose car that is,” I thought.

  I couldn’t even recognize what make and model it was. Not that that was an easy thing to do those days with all the new cars and so many of them looking alike. Who could tell what kind of car was what without seeing the brand on it and reading the model name.

  But, I knew I saw it before. Recently, too, it seemed.

  The kitchen looked like the girls made dinner but didn’t clean any of it up. After further inspection, it looked more like they’d just sat down to dinner, then left in haste. The oven was still on, and there was a baked pie on the top of it. The box on the counter indicated that it was store bought. Donna hardly ever baked. Usually only on holidays.

  I walked over to the dinner plates and put my hand over the top of the nearest one. There wasn’t any hea
t coming from it. They could have left 10 minutes ago, or 2 hours ago.

  “But, where did they go?” I thought. Then, I heard muffled sobbing that sounded like it was coming from upstairs. “Is that Kate?” I asked myself. I went to investigate.

  On my way, I noticed that the living room was spotless, except for a man’s coat hanging over the back of the couch. It wasn’t mine.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I asked the couch.

  I continued toward the stairs.

  When I got to the landing the sobbing sounded like it was coming from the room that Donna and I shared. But it sounded more like Kate.

  And it was. She was lying on our bed, face down into the pillow, sobbing, and shuddering. When I walked up to the bed, she sucked in snot up her nose. She’d obviously been crying for a while.

  I sat down on the bed and put my hand on her back. “What’s the matter, honey?” I asked her.

  “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Just leave me alone,” she cried.

  “I just want to help, Kate. That’s all,” I said as I rubbed her back.

  She turned over and slapped my arm away from her. “Don’t touch me, leave me alone!” she screamed.

  “Okay, all right, honey. I’ll leave you alone.” I backed away from the bed. “Can you at least tell me where Mom went?” I asked.

  “She went out! I don’t know!” she screamed at me.

  “Okay, honey, settle down, I’m leaving. I’m going to be downstairs if you need me, okay. Anything you need, just let me know.”

  I turned and walked back into the hall. “Maybe she left a note or a voice memo, or something.” I thought and headed back downstairs.

  There was nothing in the house that gave any indication of where she was. I even went through the jacket that was on the back of the couch and found nothing but a cash receipt for a few items from the c-store down the street.

  I knew that I didn’t want to sleep. I knew that I didn’t want any more to drink. I decided that I would clean the kitchen up a bit and find something light to eat when the phone rang.