False Dream

I pressed the trunk upward with both hands. I crawled through the bedroom and saw him sitting on the bed searching through an old shoebox of his. He called me inside to sit with him and reminisce. He took a picture and pinched it between his dry fingers. It was photograph of me as a young boy. My father was holding me in the air with a smile on his old face. I saw a black mass flat upon the ground. I wondered what it could be so I crawled toward it carefully. As I got closer I believed it was a dead animal that somehow wandered too far into the room.

The apparition in the window, the footsteps, and the energy of the house made me fearful of living there anymore. This place would either consume me or I’d consume myself. I noticed a subtle movement from my bedroom window. It was just enough to grab my attention but I just assumed it was a strong breeze that blew the curtains. I happened to look up at the window again and saw a dark figure of a man in the window, waving. Suddenly, he was moving furiously with an uncontrolled panic. His arm and legs were twisting and striking the bed with quick bursts of anger. I sat still, admiring the picture of myself.