FEVER DREAM

Last night I dreamt that the pandemic was over and I was running through the streets with joy, embracing even the most perfect strangers. Everyone was hugging and laughing and crying with unrestrained zeal. The voices of this relieved gathering resonated against the brick and mortar of my hometown in a swaying and blissful harmony.  I felt as though I were floating, and with eyes closed, I danced my way through the gathering crowd.

At last, the promise of a cure had been realized. Humankind, as one, had welcomed the chance to mend the collective errors of their ways and disavow any recurrence of past transgressions.  In this lucid creation of my deep slumber, I reveled in the unified joyfulness of the crowd and managed to smile with unrestrained glee even as my neighbors pressed themselves against me in a desperate attempt to be one with the growing promenade.

Not far from me I saw Isabella Rose, the woman I loved.  The pale beauty of her face was a radiant, golden glow against the muddled and muted colors of the surging crowd. Beneath the dark and flowing river of her hair, I spotted the emerald adorned locket that had been her wedding present. It cast a dazzling splash of color against the sun-kissed softness of her neck.  Using the sparkle of this gifted gem as a beacon, I began to maneuver my way to her side.

Suddenly, there was a commotion just at the edge of my periphery, and turning to face it, I saw an elderly woman disappear beneath the surging wave of revelers, her muffled screams nearly suppressed among the raucous cries of the joy-maddened crowd. I knew any effort to attempt a rescue would be in vain.  In a shocked daze, I watched as another, and another, and yet still another fell below the undercurrent of this crazed congregation.  Horrified, I spun toward my Isabella Rose and found her staring at me, eyes wild with confused intensity.

I motioned for her to make haste to the outermost edge of the crowd, toward the weathered stone of the nearby library archway.  Ever capable, I watched as she pressed and angled her way to the safety of that historic structure. Moments later, after circling the crowd, I found myself, at last, locked in the frantic and shivering clutches of my eternal companion.  In horror, we watched as more victims fell. But for every fallen, ten more crazed citizens took their place.

The singing was more of a chant now, a low undulating tremor pierced by the occasional horrified screams of the newly fallen.  As we stood in petrified embrace, the chant became an almost mournful plea. The crowd was begging for some type of solace - an angry desire to be forgiven. The streets rumbled in a deep resonance as the crowd struck the twisted chords of this forbidden beat and measure, undoubtedly having origins in some corrupted hymnal.

Through my gathering tears, I struggled to look upon the face of Isabella Rose, as she was quickly becoming a blurred silhouette of unrepentant beauty.  I savored the salted sweetness of her lips with a frantic kiss, more to calm my own fears than allay her own.  Then, pressing my face to hers, I whispered a quiet promise of my unending devotion.  She said nothing in return, save for tightening the grasp her arms had around me.

Without warning, the street in front of us erupted and became a hellish gash of asphalt and steel and blood and bone.  As the archway gave way around us, I closed my eyes and silently prayed that these ancient gods would grant me another lifetime with my beloved Isabella Rose, the only woman I would ever allow myself to love...

***I AWOKE VIOLENTLY TO THE SOUND OF MY OWN SCREAMING, HER AMULET PRESSING ANGRILY INTO MY TERROR CLUTCHED HAND.***

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