We are in the car chatting and singing along to the radio.
I love driving around with my daughter. Her happiness is contagious and she makes me forget the million little things that are unimportant in life.
It’s getting dark as we drive down Liberty and by the time we reach E Broad St. I’ve turned on the headlights. Originally we meant to go to the islands, but something doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’ve had this dream before. Not this specific one, but the underlying theme is the same.
As we wait for the traffic light to turn green, the lights all around the city go partly out. People emerge from their homes and try to find out how long the blackout will last. The darkness is all-encompassing, and seems to consume everything it touches, fading cars, and buildings and trees and people into oblivion. If we hurry, we might make it down River St, closer to the water the starlight’s reflection may guide us.
Only one green light illuminates the road. I hold my breath and press the accelerator, but Sofia is growing anxious. She starts to ask me a million questions I can’t answer. Don’t have time to answer. Don’t want to answer. I just want to get her to a safe place, but I don’t know how.
We go under the traffic light and hang a left. The stars should illuminate the road, but nothing is what I expected. As the car’s battery and engine die, I hold her hand in mine. Softly I say “Everything is gong to be alright. I love you.”.
But I can’t see anything, I am blind in the darkness and the fear of the unknown. I squeeze her hand tighter, and slowly feel it disappear, like the rest of her body. Nothingness envelops me.
I wake up crying, and clasping her imaginary hand in mine.
Today, I will wait until I have had breakfast before I share my dream, so that it won’t come true.