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If I'm Dreaming My Life
Mac turned in bed, the covers hugging his thin form. He tried and tried, but he
couldn’t fall back asleep. For every time he closed the lids over his sleepy eyes he
saw his sister’s face. Her sweet russet locks falling across her face, her eyes bluer
and brighter then the afternoon sky, and her smile, soft and pink like rose petals.
Mac pulled off his covers, sat in bed and wiped the sleepiness from his stale midnight
blue eyes. He ruffled a hand through his light blonde hair, as he moved across the room to
light his chamber lantern. As the room filled with the soft flickering glow Mac glanced in
the mirror. He watched his reflection caress his arm with the tip of his fingers.
The words on his arm mirrored back, the letters backwards, spelling a word that
couldn’t be pronounced. He closed his eyes, this time he didn’t see his
sister’s face, he saw his own. He thought, "What day was that?" He could
remember it, fresh in his mind:
"Sit still," a voice said.
"A 'cause dis will ‘urt," a second chimed in.
"What is going to hurt?" Mac pondered. His question soon answered as the two men
pulled out large needles and black ink.
"Gonna make these letters lovely as the women you corrupted," the first
tattooist said, spitting at Mac. He went to wipe it off, but his arms were tied down. He
was lying on his stomach.
The men started tattooing him. The same set of words, three on each arm, one each palm,
and once more across his back. It said something... He couldn’t read it, there was
too much ink and blood. The men dipped the needles in ink and poked his arm over and over
it took hours, they needed to stop and finish the next day.
On the next day the men finished and looked pleased. Mac still couldn’t read it; his
skin was red and swollen. The one man said the words aloud with pride.
"Mitchell Anthony Chace
Stockwell Prison
Convicted Rapist
2-22-86"
Mac watched his reflection a moment longer then pulled on a long sleeved shirt, the only
thing he ever wore, now that he has the reminder of his deeds. He regretted them, even
while he did them. He slipped on his pants and grabbed a bag of coins. He left his room
and headed down the hall. Mac peered into a room, a young woman lie sleeping in bed.
"Nikki," he whispered into the silence of her room. "I shall be back soon,
my love," he then blew a kiss to his sleeping sweetheart.
Mac rushed down the stairs and out the front door, there was no time to linger. He rushed
away from his house, which is hidden to this day by a cloak of trees. He ran across the
grass covered with morning dew, and light touched his face. The sun peeked up over the
edge of the horizon to see who could be up and about at such an hour.
Mac rushed through a clearing in the woods, a place where some people gathered to talk. It
got noisy like a party at times, but he lived far enough away for it not to bother him. As
he rushed through a young lady stopped him. She was dressed like a gypsy, had a tail and
was covered in fur.
"Hmm, what’s your name, handsome?" The cat-woman purred. She smelled like
ripe apples.
"Mitchell," Mac stated, breathing a little heavy now. The cat-woman moved in
closer.
"Oh?" She smiled.
"Friends call me Mac," He added.
"Do they, now? Why do they call you Mac, Mac?" She said. She was now pressed up
to Mac purring loudly. She licked his cheek like a cat would. He closed his eyes, his
heart thumping wildly in his chest.
"My initials spell it out," He managed to say.
As she pressed against Mac all he could think of was taking her in his arms and caressing
her body with his own. His mind drifted to nothingness and all he could think of is his
vulgar crime and how good his body felt when he did it. He felt power and pleasure so
strong within him.
"And why do you, uh, hurt these girls, Mitchell?" He heard someone say. He
fluttered his eyes open. It was the prison’s ‘Brain Doctor’. Mac never
understood this title. Doctors made things better, but he never seemed to get better.
"I don’t know," Mac said. He paused for a moment, folding his hands across
his chest. "It makes me feel good all over my body. I feel an angel is caressing
me."
"I hear you take the girls in your arms first and offer them a place of pure
bliss," the doctor said, not looking up from his notes.
"Yes, I do. They don’t understand. Those girls are so upset," he spoke, and
his mind was slipping away again. "But they cry and it makes me mad"
A cry broke into Mac’s thoughts. He was holding the young feline to him, lips right
by her ear, she was sobbing.
"Please, please," she sobbed. "Don’t hurt me. Let me go. I don’t
want to see anything. Please!"
Mac let go, the woman spun around to face him for a moment, her skirts flying on the
breeze. She studied his face, as if trying to remember it so she could tell the
authorities. He covered his face and ran as fast as he could.
Mac finally emerged from the woods. He stopped, panting, he needed a cab, but were there
any in the dawning of the day? After catching his breath, while walking a bit, he found
one.
"Cabbie!" He called to the driver, jogging the last few feet.
"Y-Yes, sir? Where to on this fine morn?" The cabbie replied. He was bundled up,
his cheeks and nose pink from the cold early morning gloom.
"You know the way to Stockwell?" Mac asked pulling the cab door open.
"Aye! ‘Tis a ways, sir. What’s yer business in Stockwell, then?" The
cabbie inquired, trying to make friendly conversation.
"Never you mind. Just take me there," Mac scolded climbing in the cab.
The cabbie flicked the reins; the horse whinnied softly, and started trotting. The
distance was far, several miles; it would be over an hour at this pace. Mac decided that
at this time he’d nap, but, alas, sleep once again failed to come. For the cab bobbed
along the uneven ground, waking him each time the driver called back an apology. Finally
the carriage stopped and Mac climbed out of the cab.
"Two gold and one silver coin, sir," the cabbie said. Mac handed him three gold
and told him to keep the rest, that it was a tip.
"Stay here, but tell none that you have seen me. My visit here must be
discrete," Mac said to him.
"But what if I get muhself a cust‘mer?" The cabbie asked unintelligently.
Mac waved his hand dismissively at him.
"Tell them you are off duty," he said pulling his palm from view, but the cabbie
was far too dimwitted to read the words. He probably didn’t go to school when he was
younger, or was too old to remember what he had learned.
"But what if-" the cabbie started.
"You are off duty;" Mac handed him another gold coin. The cabbie nodded and
tucked it in his pocket, smiling stupidly.
Mac rushed through the town and to his old home. It was the way he always remembered it.
White sides, and light blue trim; it was the envy of the street. Blue paint was rare in
the area of Stockwell for some unknown reason. The rest of the houses were done in greens
and pinks and yellows. He reached for the knob and gave it a turn. To his luck the door
didn’t make a noise as it pushed open.
Mac stepped into the dim-light house, shutting the door behind him. It took him a moment
to remember where everything was, but when it all came back to him he rushed up the
stairs, tiptoed past his parents’ bedroom, and crept into his sister’s room.
Mac looked to see an empty bed, then, with his stale eyes, surveyed the rest of the room.
He found a young girl asleep at her desk, pen dangling from her fingers. The early morning
light hit her face making it glow. She was a sleeping angel, not his little sister; not
anymore.
Cradling this angel in his arms, he carried her to the bed. As he lay her down, the young
woman’s eyes fluttered open. It was as if someone opened a treasure chest of pearls,
sapphires, and onyx.
"Mickey?" She spoke her voice as heavenly as her face.
"Hush, for I am not really here, but long gone. And when you wake in the morn I shall
be gone," Mickey, as the girl called him, said, holding back tears.
"’Tis the morn, my brother, and you are here," she said throwing her arms
around him. "’Tis no dream! You have come back to me!"
She sobbed softly, Mac hushed her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a warm
embrace. He caressed a hand along her silken locks, which fell around her face in loose
careless curls.
"Trina..." Mac comforted, his voice sounded as if he was scolding her, but Trina
knew better. His voice always sounded harsh, and his eyes always emotionless, but he
really was the most loving person she knew. "Close your eyes, Trina. Close your eyes
and imagine... Back to when we were younger... What was I like?"
"Beautiful," Trina managed to choke out. "You were always beautiful to
me."
‘Beautiful?’ Mac pondered. He couldn’t imagine she meant beautiful, for he
didn’t think he was. He was tall and too thin for his height, and his nose protruded
off his face two centimeters too long if he was asked.
"What do you mean?" He inquired.
"You always looked out for me, and," Trina sniffled, "and you were so kind
to me... You are beautiful to me."
That last line got to Mac, mostly because Trina started sobbing again. He joined in, tears
flooding their eyes as their hearts pounded as one. Mac never felt so good and so awful at
the same time. He pulled her head to his chest. Trina could hear Mac’s heart beat.
The soft yet rapid, rhythmic swooshing echoed her own. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
"I‘ll never leave again, not for that long. Not for six years, I promise. Oh,
God, Trina, I promise," Mac drew in a jagged breath, wiping his tears with the back
of his hand.
"Why... Why did you do it, Mickey? Why did you hurt them?" Trina managed to sob
out.
Mac thumbed the tears off her face before answering, "I was sick, Trina... Very sick.
But I‘m better now. You understand?" Trina shook her head.
"But why? I don’t get it," She insisted.
"Come," Mac took Trina’s hand, guiding her from the room, down the stairs
and out the back door. He led her to the wooden swing that hung from a tree. Mac would
always push her on it when they were growing up.
"Now, before I explain you must know I‘m a changed man, Trina. I am courting a
young lady by the name of Nikki; we live in an abandoned cabin out in the woods. We are
very happy, and I have never hurt her. Like I said I‘m better now," He
explained, Trina nodded.
Mac pushed the swing and it swung back and forth slowly. Then he said, "Close your
eyes, and imagine the only thing under you is the clouds, and all around you is the blue
sky." Mac made the swing go higher and faster, Trina’s heart pounded wildly in
her chest as her hair blew all about her face. A tear slipped from her eye, it felt so
beautiful. She felt as if she was flying.
"Mickey! I understand! I get it now!" Trina threw her arms out and immediately
lost her balance falling backward off the swing. She shrieked as she feel to her back, Mac
rushed to her side, grabbing the swing so it wouldn’t hit them.
"Trina!" He gasped, cradling her in his arms. "Are you all right?"
Trina actually laughed, then stated in a matter of fact way, "Ow... That hurt."
They both smiled.
Their smiles were soon faded as a woman shrieked, "It‘s Mitchell! He‘s come
back!"
"Mickey! Run!" Trina ordered sitting up, showing that she was okay.
Mac hesitated, but obeyed. He jumped up and ran out into the front yard and onto the
cobblestone street. What he lacked in strength he made up for in speed. He ran as fast as
he could, but by now people were coming out of their houses, women screaming, and men
holding beating sticks, that they normally used on a spoiled child, or clenching their
fists. The men ran out into the street and chased Mac; there was so much noise.
Soon the mob of men surrounded Mac and started beating him. They were so huddled together
many other men were smacked up in the process. No one could tell whose blood was whose,
there was just too much. It was all over the men and the street, the only thing anyone
knew is that most came from Mac, and that was their aim.
Trina screamed on the top of her lungs for the men to stop, but her voice was muted under
the hollering and swearing. A young man turned, his noise trickled blood, and he grabbed
up Trina, carrying her away. He couldn’t even be Mac’s age, he looked all to
young.
"Don’t worry, miss," He shouted. "He shan’t hurt you."
Trina could only watch in stunned fear as the men beat Mac. It felt like forever for her,
once and again she could hear Mac’s voice, she pieced together the words as good as
she could.
"Tell... Nikki... Love... Her... Ever..." She got the first part, but the rest
were so jumbled she couldn’t make them out.
The beating let up and the men backed away, Trina finally broke from the young man’s
grip and stumbled over her feet falling at Mac’s side. She placed a hand on his
cheek. Mac didn’t even look like himself he was so badly beaten. His whole body
battered and bruised, he couldn’t move.
"Mickey," She cried so hard she could hardly talk, she couldn’t feel her
heart, just an empty space, a void that nothing could fill.
"Trina," Mac sobbed. His eyes showed such emotion, they were so vibrant. He
coughed, blood spraying from his mouth, oozing from the corners of his lips. "Just
out of town," He managed to whisper, "a cabbie is waiting for me. Find him and
give him all the money left in my pouch. Tell him to take you to the old cabin in the
middle of the woods. Tell Nikki I love her... and our baby."
Trina bawled, "Mickey, don’t leave me. You promised. You promised me!" The
red on her cheeks made her eyes look so blue. Mac coughed again, and more blood followed.
"I’ll... I’ll always be... here," with all the strength he could
muster Mac lifted his bloodstained hand and pressed it against Trina’s chest.
"This place I shall never leave... No matter what. That is my promise."
Trina held Mac close, sobbing. He placed his arms around her, in one last embrace. His
body became limp in her grasp. His head lolled back, and his midnight blue eyes became
stale once again as his soul slipped away, from his body, never to return, but Trina heard
something in her ear.
"At the wrong time, on the wrong day, all the lights are fading now, if I'm dreaming
all my life," It was the song Mac sang to her when she was younger to calm her when
she had a nightmare. Then the tune broke and Mac’s voice said, "hush, for I am
not really here, but long gone. And in the morning I will be gone." Trina looked over
the hillside and the sun finally fully rose from its nightly slumber. It was morning and
Mac was gone.
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