Prologue
A Meeting I
A LITTLE WHILE AGO
(Josh)
“I’m going to ask the obvious question… do you still miss her?”
There wasn’t a need to answer that question. So I didn’t. It didn’t matter where I sat or who I was talking to, the questions were up to me to answer. Or not answer.
“I had the dream again. That’s why I’m here.”
“The dream. Right.”
“With the plane…”
“I know the dream. Do you want to describe it again?”
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and stared at the ugly patterned carpet. It always bothered the hell out of me. Everything in the room was square, yet this rug, this damn area rug, was a giant circle. It really pissed me off, and I had no idea why.
“The dream,” I said as I stared at the rug. “It’s always the same. We’re on a plane. A normal plane. Like the kind you’d take on vacation. A commercial jet or whatever. But there’s a door that’s almost like a regular door. There are no seats there. It’s tall, wide, it even has a brass doorknob. And I’m always listening to music. I have earbuds in. Then I see her. Just walking from the front of the plane. She’s older, but it’s her. I stand up and watch as she walks to the door and opens it. The door flies from her hand and there’s a thud as it’s ripped away from the plane. Nobody looks up though. Not a single fucking person looks up as she stands there. Her hair blowing with the air rushing through the plane. I rip the earbuds out and drop everything on my seat. I have no idea why I’m not running toward her to save her. Especially after having the same dream over and over and over.”
I lifted my gaze from the carpet.
“Go on, Josh.”
“You know the ending.”
“Maybe you’d like to get it off your chest?”
“She fucking jumps, okay? She fucking jumps out of the plane. Right out of the open door. Before I could get to her. Before I could wrap my arms around her. Before I could tell her how sorry I am. How much I love her. And that she doesn’t need to jump out of the plane. I can take care of her.”
I stood up from the way too comfortable couch and began to pace. I needed a drink. I needed a cigarette. I needed a woman, with her perfect body, to distract me from this shit. All of my favorite addictions waiting outside this room.
Soon enough, I’d be done.
There was a time limit here, which was good.
“Have you ever thought about what that means?”
“What?” I asked.
“The dream, Josh. Can we break it down together?”
“The dream? How?”
“Step by step. Take the plane, for example. A dream about a plane can mean several things. Think of it this way - you’re high in the air. You’re above everything. Think of it as a sense of awareness. Think about the speed of the plane. How fast you’re moving. That’s a representation of your life.”
“You do know she was never on a plane,” I said. “Think about that. She never got to go on a plane. So why am I dreaming of her on a plane?”
“Could be guilt, Josh. I’m not going to lie to you. But what if it means something else? Something much bigger?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Well, dreaming of death is always hard. Death is the ultimate end. It’s the final goodbye to life. When we dream of death, it’s our inner feelings that control it. Feelings of guilt. Feelings of jealousy. Sometimes we dream of someone dying because we care so much about them. Other times, it could be a sense of betrayal. Or even something as simple as, say, a career change. So you have these two powerful images… a plane and death.”
“Wait a second,” I said as I waved my hand. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit. My life is hectic, sure. But this has nothing to do with it.”
“Or maybe it has everything to do with it, Josh. Maybe it’s the final goodbye. You’re in a plane. Way up in the air. Whether you believe in heaven or hell, I think all of us subconsciously look for that comfort in the end. So the plane puts you near where she has to go. And what if she didn’t exactly jump, Josh? What if she left the plane to go to her next place?”
I stared with my lip slowly curling. “I’m supposed to believe that?”
“No. I’m just giving you my thoughts. We’re just talking. Does any of that make sense?”
“No. Fuck that.”
“Okay. Well, the dream is the same. It’s always the same. Not a single detail changes. So maybe you should try a goodbye. Get it out of you.”
“A goodbye? She’s gone.”
“Not inside your heart. Or your head.”
I shook my head. “So, what do I do? Talk to the sky? Talk to the ground?”
“Write her a letter.”
“What?”
“Write her a letter. The act of writing. Think about it. Your heart and mind work together to create words. And you’re getting it out. You’re writing it out. And it’ll be there. Meaning you can look at it, if you want. You could throw the letter out. Burn the letter. Keep it tucked away. Maybe even sleep with it, so the next time you have that dream, you can give her the letter before she exits the plane.”
“Exits the plane?” I asked, almost growling. “She jumps. She fucking jumps.”
“Okay. Give her the letter before she jumps.”
“A letter. That’s the plan then? I write her a letter. I say goodbye. I let her go for good.”
“Well, you said it yourself, Josh… she’s already gone.”
That angered me.
Only I was allowed to say that she was gone.
And only I was going to make the final decision on what to do next.
Being gone and saying goodbye were two very different things.
A Gathering
A LONG WHILE AGO
(Amelia)
Fly, baby, fly… just spread those wings and fly. Never be afraid of the fall because you can fly. You can soar high above the clouds, all the way to the stars. You can see the stars during the day. Yes, you can. You just have to fly high enough. And you can fly high enough.
She always left those type of notes under my pillow. Kind of like the way the Tooth Fairy would sneak a dollar there for every tooth I lost. My plan had been to save up enough money to buy my own house, but I realized I was running out of teeth and houses were way too expensive.
I tried to draw pictures to sell, but the only person who bought one was Mom.
So I wrote stories, like she did.
Her stories were better.
Mine were always about animals that could talk.
Mom laughed.
Nobody ever wanted to buy my stories.
So, I was stuck with twelve dollars and no chance of buying a house.
And Mom was upset, as always.
Even when she took her magical pills, as she called them, she was still upset. Nothing seemed to help her anymore. Not even my latest story. Which was about a pig that wanted to live with ducks because it wanted to learn how to fly. But first, the pig had to learn how to swim. And when a group of mean geese tried to pick on the ducks, the pig defended the ducks.