Night Memory: The Only Light in the Room

I’m waiting for a cab outside of a school. It’s late afternoon, but not dark. The cab arrives and five of us strangers pile in. The first stop is only maybe three hundred yards down the road.

It’s suddenly darker, just past dusk. When the cab stops, the kids next to me start to exit on the street side. The cab driver yells and then slaps the side of my leg with his hand. I am stunned and yell, Hey! (mostly out of fear). For a moment, I think I’m in danger as I recall the two side streets we have just driven past and the apparent mayhem at the end of each block.

I get out curbside to let the kids out, and after they exit and run without paying, the taxi screeches away without me. One second, I think – it’s closer to go back then to run in the direction I was headed. But I left my bag in the car, so I chase.

After many blocks, night has fallen. I see the cab, which has now somehow turned into a different car, parked out in front of a house. The house is located on a curve that makes a C-shape in the road.

I run inside. The front door is unlocked. Making a straight line down the hall, I end up in a small, crowded room with a tv showing static, and piles of clothes on the floor. It is very dark and the lump I reach for on the bed – instinctively – it’s my lost bag.

I grab it and before I can run, it grabs me back. Someone else is in the room with me. I wake up trying to make a noise with my mouth – it sounds like a warble of this night memory, though in my dream I am trying to scream.

(Image Via: Jonathon Jones / UK Guardian)