Fallen pt 2

I sat by my window and watched as the wind blew the branches of the weeping willow tree against my window, slapping the glass hard just inches from my face. Rain mixed in with the wind and I could hear the eerie whistle ringing in my ears. The promise of a storm.1

Twisting a strand of my light brown hair around my finger, I sat at my window seat and watched the sky. A few stars were beginning to appear in the sky that was not yet covered with clouds.2

Slowly, the last rays of the sun began to fade, and the few specks of light started to light up in the blackened sky like little automatic night lights.3

Then just as soon as the appeared, they disappeared as the clouds moved in on them, making the sky solid black. So black I could almost feel it.4

I listening for J.C. in his room and heard him banging around, packing his things. Tonight would be his last night here. My last night knowing that he was nearby.5

A feeling of dread erupted in my stomach and churned with both sadness and worry. I hated the thought of him moving out. Over the years we had always been inseparable. Unlike most siblings, we got along great and liked being together. However, we did have our share of fights and arguments. But what siblings don’t? I knew then that things would never be the same.6

In the distance lightening flashed, lighting the black sky for a spilt second. In that second, I could see the thick, ominous clouds, heavy with rain, and the wind as it bent the trees. Thunder boomed loudly and startled I jumped of my butt and walked down the hall to J.C.’s room.7

“It’s me!” I called as I pounded on the door. He yelled something I couldn’t quite make out and I slowly opened the door. His room was cluttered wall to wall with mountains and piles of junk, clothes, papers, books and boxes. His new guitar leaned against a wall with trash thrown all around it. Tons of things I didn’t even know he still had were piled in mountains on his floor, his bed and anywhere else that would hold the junk.8

His small closet was even worse. It was all one big mountain of junk.9

“Well it seems like you are doing just fine in here.” I said sarcastically. “Look at all this!” He wailed, sweeping a hand through the air. “I will be up all night!”10

“That’s nothing new.” I retorted as I picked up an old wrinkled poster that had once been a picture of a woman in a string bikini. I tossed it in a bag of trash and began making my way through the junk. I had the bag filled with all kinds of old junk and papers in no time.11

“Don’t throw away anything good.” The packrat said from behind a huge heap of clothes. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around the room.12

“Don’t worry.” I chuckled as I picked up an old notebook, torn and stained. The remaining pages were a filthy, dirt stained, light brown color. I wondered how old it was and looked on the cover page. 1992 was written in J.C.’s small handwriting just beneath his name. “This is eight years old!” I exclaimed with a laugh. He stuck his head out from behind the pile of clothes and laughed along with me. For a moment I thought that everything was going to be all right. But the laughter faded and so did that thought.13

For four hours straight we packed boxes full of the belongings my packrat brother thought that he would need while living with Sam. All the rest of his things were either deemed old junk and thrown away or deemed “keep-able” and piled into the closet. 14

Around 1:30 Mom opened the door without knocking. Although she normally looked younger than her age of 41, tonight she looked older. Her brow was creased with worry lines as she looked at J.C. and all the boxes that littered the floor. She pulled her dark blue silk bathrobe tighter around herself and held a cup of steaming hot chocolate in her hand.15

“You two have made good progress.” she finally said, looking around at the room.16

Her eyes rested on the one small pile of remaining junk that was piled in the corner.17

“We ran out of boxes.” J.C. said a little too hatefully. Mom gave him a hard stare and turned to walk out.18

“If you need anything, just ask. I’m still your mother, whether or not you want me to be. And there are some more boxes down in the basement.” She said with hint of hurt in her voice as she walked out the door.19

“Yea well, I’m still your son.” J.C. mumbled to himself. He didn’t intend for me to hear that so I pretended not to. Half an hour later we decided to call it quits.20

I walked slowly toward my room. I fell into bed, exhausted and snuggled deep into my thick Scooby-doo blankets. I let myself sink into the cold bed and listened to the wind as I began to drowse.21

I was trapped in a maze. Everywhere I turned was another path that looked exactly like the last. I was trying to find someone. But who? I ran, screamed and pounded on the maze walls but nothing happened. Finally I saw someone or something in the distance. I started running but the more I ran, the farther away they seemed. Then suddenly the maze turned into a funnel and I was sucked into it. Blackness twirled around me and I was caught up in the winding, twisting, writhing mass of blackness. Then I saw J.C.’s face floating around in the blackness. He was being sucked into the big black hole at the end of the funnel. I screamed but he couldn’t hear me. I tried to grab him, but it was like he wasn’t there. I couldn’t stop him. Suddenly I awoke. Cold sweat poured down my forehead. I was relieved that it was just a dream but at the same time I was puzzled. Why had I dreamed that bizarre dream? I had always been interested in the night-time world and enjoyed solving the mystery that each dream created but this dream puzzled me more than any other. I sat up and looked at my glow-in-the-dark clock beside my bed. 5:13 a.m. it read. I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep so I curled up under the blankets and let my mind wonder. I begin to think about the dream and how it applied to my life.22

“What was the maze representing?” I asked myself. “Life? Pain? Problems with J.C. Then there was the funnel. Blackness. What did that portray? Drugs? Was the funnel representing the drug path and J.C. was being sucked into it? But that still didn’t answer the question about the maze.”23

I reached for my dream journal that was lying beside my bed. Keeping a journal of my dreams and figuring out what they meant was a hobby of mine. I recalled the dream and wrote down the most important details. The colors that I saw and the feelings I felt.24

Then I wrote down my thoughts about the dream:25

I don’t understand why I had this dream. I know it deals with JC moving out and doing drugs but I just can’t put all the pieces together. It’s hard. I don’t want J.C. moving out especially with Sam! 26

But J.C. wasn’t just moving out. He was moving in with a loser. A 21-year-old guy who didn’t have a steady job. A guy that was known around Atlanta for dealing drugs. 27

I sighed and listened as the wind slapped the branches of the willow tree against my window. Somewhere I heard an owl cry, probably returning to it’s home after finishing its nightly flight.28

Somewhere in my heart I could feel the rising dread. Sinking hope. I knew J.C. was headed straight for trouble. “I can’t worry about this.” I whispered into the darkness. “He’ll be fine!” I hoped.29

But that hope was like a cloud of smoke. It would slowly disappear and would soon be gone in a blink of an eye. Like so many things in life.30