4| Recurring Dreams

She hissed slightly as the cold water cascaded down her body. Belatedly, she realised that she had absent-mindedly scrubbed on a healing wound on her left forearm a little too hard. The water made it sting. She stared at it as the water cascaded down her body, rinsing the suds and sluicing down the drain. The wound had turned an angry red. She brushed her thumb over it and hissed again. It mocked her, taking more time to heal than others had as if serving as an angry reminder of her life that she had left behind. However, unlike the past month today, the scars stared mockingly at her.

Turning off the shower knob, she stepped out, shivering at the sudden change in temperature. The heater had been acting up for a few days now and finally took its last breath last night. She hurriedly dried herself and pulled on her work clothes — a pair of black trousers and a beige cotton blouse. Tying her damp hair into a bun, she tossed the damp towel in the laundry basket. Looking out of the window, she saw that dawn had just encroached on the sky, so another 4 or so hours before she had to leave. She plopped down on the still unmade bed and just stared blankly at the unkempt side of the room. Today one of those mornings, the ones that left her sluggish and kept her mind blank. 

Why did she have that old dream again? Could it be called a dream if one wakes up gasping for breath and drenched in sweat? She had believed that with her past she had also deposited that dream, leaving it behind and settled in this town, far away from where she used to live. She sighed and stood up. Trudging to her kitchenette, she started slicing some fruits, the rhythmic sound of cutting taking off her mind from the other thoughts momentarily. Popping in a slice of kiwi, she opened the mini-fridge and perused through whatever food was left inside. Taking out the packet of bread, she put two slices in the beat-up toaster. 

Grabbing her phone from the nightstand in the meantime, she googled - ‘Do people get recurrent dreams?’ Billions of search results popped up in seconds. She scrolled up, clicking on a few articles until the toaster clunked, alerting her in the process. She carelessly put the gadget on the countertop as she lathered a thin layer of butter on the toasts. 

By the time she had managed to nibble and eat half her breakfast, she could hear the hubbub outside the street — the bell of the bicycle and chirping of birds. She looked down at the now soggy bread. She swallowed the morsel in her mouth before getting up from the bed. Was she so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the time? Maybe. 

Depositing the plate on the small sink, she packed the fruits to consume later. She went to fix her hair in front of the small bathroom mirror and tried to conceal her eye bags with the remnants of a concealer. Taking a deep breath and once again making sure none of her scars was on display, she picked up her bag and phone and left her stamp-sized apartment. 

The company where she worked now, thanks to Barbara, was strangely situated near the outskirts of the town and close to the forest, not quite destroying nor compromising nature, but peculiar enough to raise eyebrows. She found it strange because the King Corps specialised in making various parts of computers and other gadgets and was a well-known international company. But she loves working there. It keeps her mind off all the bad things, all the intrusive thoughts. Her co-workers aren’t half bad either. She checks the phone. The lock screen clock tells her it’s 8. 

It takes 45 minutes to reach, very few people arrive at this time. She reaches her cubicle and sets down her bag. Turning on the computer she opens chrome again and types - ‘What do recurring dreams mean?’ She fervently scrolled up and her eyes caught one snippet of an article: ‘Recurring dreams often tell you the future.’ Her ears started ringing. Future? What kind of future does her dream entail? The images, the scenarios that momentarily gripped her with fear and anxiety. The dream that she had since 16, the one that did not show her any pattern, the one where she never heard anyone’s voice but filled with horrific images that made her scream awake at times. 

She let outs a shuddering breath, willing herself to remain calm. Distantly, she heard the chattering of people. With shaking fingers, she manages to close the window. When she lived with her...foster caretakers (she loathed to call them parents) she never got a chance to question these things. But now that she has the opportunity, whom will she question? Who can tell her something substantial? 

“Summer! Good morning!” a nasal voice broke her reverie. She startled and glanced up. Hannah, a chirpy girl in her late 20s and the only person who doesn’t feel rankled by her closed-off nature. She offered her a small smile and nodded. Hannah logged into the computer while she rambled, “I feel so lazy today. Shouldn’t have had three cans of beer yesterday.” Summer shook her head slightly. That was nothing new. 

By the time afternoon rolled in, a headache had started to form. She blinked at the screen a couple of times, the numbers and letters blurring at times. God, her eyes hurt. “You can take a break and eat something, ya know?” Hannah suggested. She hummed in agreement. She hadn’t eaten anything since the morning. Maybe a cup of tea and some crackers? She got up from the chair and went to the vending machine. Since the office was situated far away from human residence, they also had a cafeteria. 

Unlike most Americans, she preferred a cup of tea to a cup of espresso. As the cup filled, the thoughts came back. A gigantic man with a wolf's head and a woman lying limply on the ground. The man had been looking directly at her and approaching her slowly, as if he could see her. Who are they? Why did she see that woman when she doesn’t even remember meeting her, ever? Taking the cup filled with sloshing hot beverage, she traipsed her way back to the cubicle when all of a sudden she collided with someone. She hissed as the cup slipped from her hand, spilling the liquid on the person in front of her and on her hand. 

“I am so sorry,” she repeated profusely, but when she glanced up, her whole being came to a standstill.