Read Online Recovering Charles by Jason F. Wright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jason F. Wright
Tags: Spiritual & Religion
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him.
He slid his plate aside, wiped up the area around him with a napkin, and put his elbows on the table. “She will.”
Dad then shared with me “the dream” he’d carried as a lifeline since high school. It wasn’t his only dream, but it was the one that gave him hope when he needed it most.
It was two nights before Senior Prom, and Dad dreamt he stood on a long, straight country road lined with magnolia trees. He turned around and saw that the road began not far behind him. But in front of him, the road stretched as far and straight as he’d ever seen. “It was like God had drawn a straight line through the forest,” Dad said.
At various points ahead, on both the left and the right, tree branches hung like thick, muscular arms over the road. Curious, Dad began to walk. Every now and then, without warning, the surface changed. From smooth, fresh pavement to loose gravel to red dirt, back to pavement, and then to uneven cobblestone.
The more he walked the more he noticed danger all around him. Animals crouched in the brush and behind trees. Narrowed white eyes followed him, darting from hiding place to hiding place. He didn’t know their breed; he only knew to fear them.
He walked on.
A noise startled him from behind. Dad turned and the branches behind him suddenly swayed and swatted violently at the ground below. He quickly looked forward again but now, some thirty yards ahead, stood a woman. She wore a long, flowing white dress and faced away from him.
“It was your mother,” Dad told me.
The woman began to walk away from him.
“Stop!” Dad yelled.
She walked on.
Dad also walked, faster now, and with each step he took, she took one of her own. The winds behind them grew stronger and played notes to the most frightening song Dad had ever heard.
Tender whimpers from ahead.
Dad couldn’t be sure, but after all these years, after replaying the dream hundreds of times in his mind, Dad was convinced the woman was crying out for him.
“Are you OK?” Dad called out to her, but as soon as the words left his mouth they were carried away by a violent rush of air. It came from behind and filled every inch of the road, lifting the two of them off their feet and tossing them from one side of the road to the other.
The woman yelled to my father. “I . . . I can’t . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .” She was drowning in the energy of the air swooshing by them.
“Save me, Charles,” the woman begged.
He reached out to her, and she locked her soft fingers and palms around his wrists. The angry wind jerked and jostled them down the road. She continued to choke and sputter and her face turned a painful blue. But they were together now, joined tightly at both wrists.
Dad begged her to be strong, to breathe, to remain calm.
The woman cried tears that flew away in the air instead of hitting her cheeks.
Finally realizing he was the only one who could save her, Dad pulled her close with all his strength and filled his lungs with air.
Then he put his mouth to hers.
He breathed out slowly, emptying his chest.
Her eyes closed as she took his breath.
Once again, he took all the air he could and gently put his lips around her mouth and exhaled.
She opened her eyes and smiled. Just then Dad saw a large branch hanging out into the road. The woman let go of Dad’s wrist with one hand and grabbed the branch as they passed by.
The wind clawed at their legs and the woman held on to Dad as long as she could. But when Dad sensed he was pulling her free from the safety of the sturdy branch, he said good-bye and let go.
Dad was swept down the road and out of sight.
The waitress dropped our check on the table and thanked us for coming.
Dad straightened up and looked me in the eye. “I don’t know how,” he said, “but I’m going to save your mother.”
Chapter
11
The hotel’s obnoxious wake-up call shook me to reality.
I’ve never understood why, but 6:00 am comes earlier in hotel
He slid his plate aside, wiped up the area around him with a napkin, and put his elbows on the table. “She will.”
Dad then shared with me “the dream” he’d carried as a lifeline since high school. It wasn’t his only dream, but it was the one that gave him hope when he needed it most.
It was two nights before Senior Prom, and Dad dreamt he stood on a long, straight country road lined with magnolia trees. He turned around and saw that the road began not far behind him. But in front of him, the road stretched as far and straight as he’d ever seen. “It was like God had drawn a straight line through the forest,” Dad said.
At various points ahead, on both the left and the right, tree branches hung like thick, muscular arms over the road. Curious, Dad began to walk. Every now and then, without warning, the surface changed. From smooth, fresh pavement to loose gravel to red dirt, back to pavement, and then to uneven cobblestone.
The more he walked the more he noticed danger all around him. Animals crouched in the brush and behind trees. Narrowed white eyes followed him, darting from hiding place to hiding place. He didn’t know their breed; he only knew to fear them.
He walked on.
A noise startled him from behind. Dad turned and the branches behind him suddenly swayed and swatted violently at the ground below. He quickly looked forward again but now, some thirty yards ahead, stood a woman. She wore a long, flowing white dress and faced away from him.
“It was your mother,” Dad told me.
The woman began to walk away from him.
“Stop!” Dad yelled.
She walked on.
Dad also walked, faster now, and with each step he took, she took one of her own. The winds behind them grew stronger and played notes to the most frightening song Dad had ever heard.
Tender whimpers from ahead.
Dad couldn’t be sure, but after all these years, after replaying the dream hundreds of times in his mind, Dad was convinced the woman was crying out for him.
“Are you OK?” Dad called out to her, but as soon as the words left his mouth they were carried away by a violent rush of air. It came from behind and filled every inch of the road, lifting the two of them off their feet and tossing them from one side of the road to the other.
The woman yelled to my father. “I . . . I can’t . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .” She was drowning in the energy of the air swooshing by them.
“Save me, Charles,” the woman begged.
He reached out to her, and she locked her soft fingers and palms around his wrists. The angry wind jerked and jostled them down the road. She continued to choke and sputter and her face turned a painful blue. But they were together now, joined tightly at both wrists.
Dad begged her to be strong, to breathe, to remain calm.
The woman cried tears that flew away in the air instead of hitting her cheeks.
Finally realizing he was the only one who could save her, Dad pulled her close with all his strength and filled his lungs with air.
Then he put his mouth to hers.
He breathed out slowly, emptying his chest.
Her eyes closed as she took his breath.
Once again, he took all the air he could and gently put his lips around her mouth and exhaled.
She opened her eyes and smiled. Just then Dad saw a large branch hanging out into the road. The woman let go of Dad’s wrist with one hand and grabbed the branch as they passed by.
The wind clawed at their legs and the woman held on to Dad as long as she could. But when Dad sensed he was pulling her free from the safety of the sturdy branch, he said good-bye and let go.
Dad was swept down the road and out of sight.
The waitress dropped our check on the table and thanked us for coming.
Dad straightened up and looked me in the eye. “I don’t know how,” he said, “but I’m going to save your mother.”
Chapter
11
The hotel’s obnoxious wake-up call shook me to reality.
I’ve never understood why, but 6:00 am comes earlier in hotel
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