A horrible dream
2002-08-16, 8:45 a.m.

A few minutes ago I awoke from a horrible dream. It was about my grandmother, who died in November. I figure I'd better write this down while I can remember it, since I usually forget my dreams.

Originally, my grandmother died in her sleep in her home at North Carolina. She lived in a small trailer up in the mountains. She went up there every summer to escape the heat and humidity of Miami. She was about to come home; she comes back every November to hang with our family.

The dream started out in a house that was unfamiliar to me. Let's just call this the "dream house." My siblings and I are there with my grandmother. It was winter, but it wasn't snowing. All of us were sipping on hot cocoa (which we don't drink much unless it's cold), except for my grandma - she was drinking tea.

We all had our own seperate rooms (5 people in their own rooms? Sheesh). Grandma was in the living room, sitting in a chair while sipping her tea. I was watching The Real World in my room (My own room and cable) when I decided to put my mug in the kitchen sink.

I went down the hall and asked my sisters needed anything while I was in the kitchen. Both of them said no. I walked the opposite way to get to the kitchen. I went to the living room and said hi to my grandma. She was getting out of her chair and started walking towards the fireplace to poke the logs.

I just then noticed my surroundings. The room was an average room with a tan leather chair and sofa set up in a right angle fashion about 5 ft apart. An oversized glass coffee table sat in front of the chair. The floor was covered with a brown carpet, but only in that room. It switched to a hard floor when it reached the kitchen. The mantle above the fireplace was decorated with Christmas ornaments. Some of them my Grandma made by hand. It was rather homey.

The chair was directly across the room from the fireplace. She had to walk a small distance to get to her destination.

While halfway there, she stopped and grabbed her chest, her eyes wide with fear and pain. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening.

Quickly, I led her to the tan sofa.

"You're gonna be all right, Grandma" I told her. "I'm gonna call 911."

I ran into Jazzmyn's room and told her that Grandma's having a heart attack and that I were going to call 911. She -as usual- was on the telephone at the time and I told her to get off.

Our own room, cable, and a telephone. Ahh the good life.

I ran back out to grandma, who was still conscious, and picked up the telephone to see if Jazzmyn was off.

She wasn't.

"Jazzmyn, get off the damn phone!"

"Hold on!" screamed Jazzmyn.

"And where are you right now?" said an unfamiliar woman's voice.

"Wha-"

"Allison, I called 911 instead."

Hah. No one listens to me - even in my dreams.

"Well get off the damn phone and let me talk to her!"

"Ok, miss," said the operator, "where are you right now?"

I didn't know the address to the place. I couldn't ask grandma. I was about to say that they should trace the number when my brother cut me off.

"Hey, man. When you see my mom tell her I said hi," says my brother in a ghetto accent, "and that I'm bored."

"Would everyone stay off the phone?! GOD!"

This goes on all the time here. Why should my dreams be different?

The last thing I remember is looking over at my grandmother. She looked to be unconscious. Dead.

I woke up.

I miss her a lot. She was my favorite relative. I was extremely attached to her. I'm glad events didn't happen the way they had in my dream.

Let's hope we all go in our sleep.

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