The Second Dream
As the gray, cold vehicle drove off, emitting a gray, cold cloud of exhaust into the gray, cold sky, the woman slumped down on her gray, cold front step. Her head was in her hands.
Quietly, she sobbed. Of the ruin this place had become. Had been. For her own child that she had now just given up, freely. Still, it was better than killing it…she hoped.
As the gray, cold clouds above started to pour gray, cold rain, she let her tears flow with it for a moment, and then went inside the door to her gray, cold apartment.
No one could know what she had done.
I awoke slowly, tasting the foul air of Rade, the prickly dead grass of the park rubbing against the side of my face. It was dark now; Max was gone, as was his new friend I had seen.
It was the second dream of my confused life. Sort of like a continuance of the first one. Was that how dreams worked? I closed my eyes, tried to let it go, tried to wash away the memory.
I stood. I knew where to go.