Metamorphic Dreams

The moon is high in the starlit sky, and the wind ruffling through my feathers feels pleasant. My concave, heart-shaped face amplifies my sense of hearing as I listen deeply to the sounds of the night all around me. A lonely cricket singing about love lost. Snores from a sleeping black bear causing a rippling breeze throughout the surrounding grass. Rustling in a small blueberry bush as a field mouse enjoys a sweet treat. Little “scrit scrit” noises as a fox digs into the soft, wet earth. I notice another sound that causes a crushing sensation deep inside my heart: the sound of a human fledgling weeping.

I swiftly but silently fly towards the source of the crying. I see a small human being with long hair, the same shade of brown as my wing feathers. I land on a nearby fence post and take a closer look. She looks to be about 7 years old. Her skin is pale but her face is red and blotchy as she keeps rubbing her dark brown eyes. She is sitting on the rotting porch of an old looking house, clutching her knees close to her. The girl is wearing a thin, sleeveless nightgown, even though the season was starting to turn and humans would usually start wearing thicker coats at this time. Her arms are covered with colorful splotches of brown, blue, and purple.

Still sniffling, the little girl looks up, and notices me. I consider flying away, but I see such hope in her eyes as she slowly stands up and looks at me with such wonder.

“Hello, beautiful thing,” she whispers and gives the slightest smile. I preen myself with pride, and fly up to the railing next to her. She hesitantly and gently reaches out and gives me a soothing pet on top of my head. I close my eyes and I sweetly coo at her.

The light turns on inside the house, and a screeching female voice pierces the night. The youngling flinches and tries to hold back a deep sob, and slowly walks back inside.

My eyes open, wet with tears, as I wake from my dream. I find myself weeping in despair. My wings are gone, and all I have are my weak, fleshy arms. I no longer have my crystal-clear night vision; my vision is blurred and with barely any color. Everything is lonely and quiet with my puny human ears. And above all, I weep for the little girl I saw. I know it was only a dream, but it felt so real, and made me think about my own childhood.

I slowly get up, and get dressed without worrying about what specifically I’m wearing. I put food in my mouth without noticing what it tastes like. I walk out the door without paying attention to what the weather feels like. I make it to my job at the local independent coffee shop, put my apron on, and get to work. I’m on autopilot, and I don’t feel or notice anything until the unpleasant woman walked in.

She had cold, blue eyes. Her nose was sharp, and her mouth was tight and thin. She wore a scowl on her face as she demanded coffee in a familiarly shrill voice. As I obediently make her coffee, I look down past her a little and see a little girl. I see the brown hair and the saddest, brownest eyes. It’s the girl from my dream! Still in shock, I hand the coffee to the woman and watch her, and the child walk out of the shop. I take my apron off and follow a little ways behind them. I think some customers tried to question me on my way out, but I couldn’t hear them.

I followed my mystery girl and her -mother? – all the way home, to the old house with the rotting porch. I knew I shouldn’t be stalking these people, and because of a dream I had, of all reasons. But I was a woman obsessed, and I stayed at the edge of the property just watching the house for hours.

The sun went away and the stars came out, and I was still outside the house. I’m not sure what I was waiting for, exactly, until the moment it happened.

I heard the woman yell out in anger, and heard the screams and cries of a frightened child. I dialed 911 on my cell phone and ran up to the house. The front door was unlocked, and I burst inside with a speed and strength that I didn’t know that I had.

The woman spun around to look at me; she had a rabid kind of madness in her eyes and a foul, drunk sweat dripping off her hair and forehead. In her hand, she wielded a knife that flung ruby droplets into my face. Behind her, I saw the terrified girl shielding her face with her cut and bleeding hands.

“Get the FUCK out of my house!” the woman screamed at me. I kicked her in the shins, hard. She swung wildly at me and I felt the knife make contact my face as I lost the vision in my right eye. I ran to the child and turned myself into a shield, blocking her against the crazy woman in front of me. She lunged forward again, and this time I could feel a hot wetness stream forth from my neck. I clasped my throat with one hand, and kept one hand pushing the girl behind me. My already weak vision grew spotted, and I felt myself collapse onto my knees. I heard police sirens quickly approaching. I feel another stab, this time into my chest. My face fell onto the cold floor, but my pain was ebbing out of my body. I see blue uniforms enter the house before everything is black and silent.

I open my eyes. The moon is high in the starlit sky, and the wind ruffling through my feathers feels pleasant. I love that the girl’s foster home has a tree right outside her bedroom window, so that I can keep an eye on her and visit her when she has nightmares. Tonight, though, she is sleeping soundly. If I had lips, I would smile. I take one last look at the girl, and then I take flight.