Wide-Eyed and Wonderful

It’s dark outside tonight with no moon.

I’m sitting on the roof of my apartment watching the sky with two friends. Inside I can hear the laughter of a small party of people, completely content to simply be in each others company. I smile.

Staring back up at the sky I notice something I’ve never seen before; the Aurora Borealis. I’m mesmerized. I have never been far enough north to see them and cannot bring myself to fully fathom what is painting the sky. Colours flickering in and out of focus, leaving wisps of blue, purple, green and beautiful behind, seeming to softly kiss the night, lips upon the stars…

It’s enchanting and I can’t look away, even as a strange silence fills the night, a silence now so haunting it deafens me in my sleep.

I awake from my moment nestled in the sky to the sounds of hushed terror. One of my friends points far off in the distance to fires lining the horizon. I hear people downstairs gasping and rushing their hands to their faces, muffling the sounds of horror. As I watch, more fires begin to burn and the lights above me begin to reflect gold, amber and white, beginning themselves to feel the heat of the wind fast approaching.

The silence is punctured by one single scream, finally reaching us all in our safe place, so suddenly robbing us of our wonderful ignorance of reality; that this could be real. That single scream is followed by a wave of explosive, nightmarish cries, each more pained than the last.

I realize I’m weeping far before I’m aware of my friends pulling me off the roof. Their screams seem too similar to the mob to pay much attention. In my shock I lose the next ten minutes. Even as I try to remember today that part consistently evades my memory.

The next thing I know I’m in a car, speeding down a road so hot it’s melting the wheels. I’m in the back, my feet pulled up on the seat to avoid the heat. It’s quiet in here. No one is saying anything.

I look around me, my mind clearing. The car is full but not everyone is here. He and she and they are missing. I’m assured everyone got out.

In my lap is a bag. I’m told they grabbed what they thought was most important to me, what I would miss most if it was lost. I’m anxious to see what is inside, what my most valued items are, but I never get the chance to look.

I go to open the bag but before I can a voice fills the night. Someone says to roll down the windows for a moment to listen. The voice is as cold as ice, making us forget the flames around us, filling us with a fresh, weighty dread.

I hear words like war, bombs, mad-men and nuclear. I hear the threat of fleeing being crushed underneath laughter and contempt. I hear fate, quietly, no remorse and whispers of the end of the world.

As the sky goes quiet again, replaced with the onslaught of terror, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I reach down and see a familiar number. I pick it up. It’s my dad. He’s okay. He’ll meet me in the place I know well. My siblings too. Bring your friends. Be quiet about it.

As the phone clicks I know I’ll be safe if I can just get to the place I know well. I tell the driver to change directions. Without question they drive. For a glimpse of a moment I feel hope.

The window smashes. Glass cuts my cheek. I hear my friends cry out. Smoke fills the car…

And I wake up.

Never again will I take such a long afternoon nap.