“No, that’s not necessa—”
He cranks up the volume on the radio, blaring the oldies station. When he bellows the chorus with enthusiasm, his voice breaks and he finishes it with an off-tune holler.
I wince. “Don’t quit your day job.”
He stops singing long enough to say, “I don’t hear you contributing to the concert.”
“That’s because I know my limits.”
“Oh, come on.” Mom turns around. “You’ve got a great voice.”
I scoff. “This, coming from the woman who thinks Dad should try out for American Idol.”
She smiles lovingly at my father. “He totally should.”
And she should totally get her hearing checked.
When she rubs his thigh, I wrinkle my nose. If I wasn’t already nauseated, I definitely would be after their PDA.
I secretly love it, though—how much my parents love each other. They’re opposites in a lot of ways, but they have one thing in common that never fails to bring them joy—me. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child. Or maybe it’s just because I’m super awesome. Either way, they always make time for me.
When I told them I won a complimentary weekend at a resort, they were appalled that I wouldn’t be taking anyone with me. That’s how girls get kidnapped, they’d said.
Naturally, they insisted on coming. I don’t mind. Once the semester begins, I won’t see them for a while.
A Dolly Parton song comes on, and Dad belts out the new tune with fervor. Unclipping her seat belt, Mom leans over the middle console to give him a kiss on the cheek. He gropes her knee.
Aaand that’s when I’m out.
To save my stomach—and my ears—I decide to put on some headphones. After digging around in my backpack, I secure the insulated padding over my ears and sigh with relief. I’m glad I went with the bulkier version instead of earbuds. Better noise cancellation, which I desperately need right now.
Just as I plug the cord into my phone, I glance up at the empty road ahead. It’s so secluded up here. No cars have passed us. With the sun hiding, there’s a shadow hanging over everything.
An eerie feeling washes over me, but I shake it off.
I should be excited. I could use some downtime right now. I just spent the last three months sweating in the sun, blowing my whistle, and yelling at kids not to run next to the pool. It wasn’t all bad. It was my third summer at my town’s aquatic center. The money’s good, the tan is even better, and if I hadn’t been working there, I never would’ve heard about Dream Escape Resort and Spa.
The owners are young entrepreneurs who seem passionate about their business. Instead of taking to social media, they were spreading the word the old-fashioned way, traveling through the state to water parks and other summer hot spots to hand out flyers. All I had to do was go to their website and fill out an application for the giveaway.
And for once in my life, I actually won something. In general, I don’t consider myself to be a lucky person, so it was a pleasant surprise.
Opening my music app, I scroll through a few favorite lists before settling on one. I close my eyes and lean my head back as I wait for the song to start.
“What the—”
The sound of my dad’s distressed voice startles me, and I open my eyes just in time to see the blur of a figure standing in the middle of the road.
I gasp.
Then everything happens so fast.
My dad jerks the steering wheel to the left, and the stomach-flipping swerve of the vehicle makes my insides tumble. Mom screams. We hit the guardrail. For a split-second, I think it’s going to save us, but it gives way under the impact.
The shriek of scraping metal fades out as my world enters a weird, surreal slow motion. I can’t hear anything. My mouth is open, but I’m not sure if any sound is coming out.
Straight ahead, I see the vast expanse of trees and gray clouds.
And nothingness. No road. No solid ground to catch us.
When the car tips forward, my seat belt tightens across my chest, but terror fills me when I see my mom hit the windshield. Dad reaches for her, but I don’t have time to see what happens next because we start rolling.
Over and over, we fall down the incline.
I have no idea how many times we flip. All I know is I’m being battered and bruised. Shattered glass cuts my face and arms. My head is repeatedly hitting something hard, and the only thing saving me from getting my skull busted open is the padding on my headphones.
With a jolt, the car stops, and I’m vaguely aware that the driver’s side is wrapped around a tree. I want to open my eyes, but I feel so heavy. So sleepy…
I can’t stay awake. I’m slipping away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Just as I give in to the darkness, I feel my awareness being pulled back, like my mind is getting sucked through a vacuum in reverse.
Gasping, I open my eyes. My chest rises with quick breaths and my heart pounds as I look at the scene in front of me.
We’re back on the road, just as we were before.
We didn’t crash.
It wasn’t real.
A nightmare.
Mom and Dad are still singing that song together. The windows are intact. My headphones are on, my phone is in my hand, and my playlist is stuck.
Relief washes over me. I must’ve fallen asleep for a few seconds.
Still, it’s unsettling.
I haven’t lost control of my dreams like that in over a year.
Yeah, I decide what I dream. I’m kind of a badass like that. Not to brag, but it’s a big deal to be able to utilize my mind in such a way.
The first time I ever heard of lucid dreaming was my freshman year of college. My psych professor had used it as an example of the power of thought. I was instantly obsessed.
As someone who’s suffered from horrific, vivid nightmares since early childhood, the possibility that I could control it completely changed the way I struggled with sleep. Nighttime became a sanctuary instead of a prison. Every time I dozed off, I could do anything or be anyone I wanted. I built a utopia-like world for myself—an alternative reality.
This was just a slipup.
Professor Radcliff had warned me about times like these. If I fell asleep in unfamiliar surroundings or if I changed my routine, there could be mistakes.
I’m just glad it wasn’t real.
My parents are okay. I’m okay.
I try not to think about all the times my nightmares had some truth to them. How sometimes they were more like visions of the future than harmless dreams.
Because it’s not possible to see what’s coming. Psychics don’t exist.
Besides, I’m not that special. I’m just a weird girl with an overactive mind.
Just as I’ve started to relax, déjà vu hits me. As we go around the curve, I see the same person from before in the road. They’re dressed in a gray trench coat, and the hood is up, shadowing their face.
And they’re small. Like a child.
“What the—” Dad says at the same time I yell, “Look out!”
Whatever I dreamed before happens again, exactly how it played out in my mind a few seconds ago.
Screeching tires.
Crunching metal.
Falling.
Pain.
A jarring stop and darkness.
“No.” A tear slips down my cheek as I fight the irresistible force of unconsciousness.