The other day we engaged in one such conversation in the course of which she admitted to having had a dream at one point that she had won the lottery. While we were bantering about this she said she thought it would be funny if someone had a dream in which an angel appeared and promised a lottery win, but the person died without winning the lottery. I thought that might make for an amusing short story, so after obtaining her permission to use the idea wrote The Dream.
THE
DREAM
The
dream came at the end of a horrible day, concluding the last miserable week in
a wretched month. Sara Jones was sixteen
at the time and she thought of it for the rest or her life as “THE DREAM.” During the thirty day stretch of torment
preceding THE DREAM, she learned she had failing grades in three of her six High
School classes and her parents were divorcing.
Her closest friend moved to Australia. Her boyfriend boke up with her in
a two word text and started dating her older sister. On the day in question, she contracted a
painful case of hives, her mom announced they were moving to Meadow, Utah and
her dog Patches died in a freak accident when on their evening walk. Patches
darted away and his leash became caught in an automated garbage truck. She last
saw Patches as the machinery yanked his leash and he sailed high over the edge
of the truck right into its compactor.
Unfortunately, she could still hear his squeals over the sound of the
motors crushing the trash, and Patches, into a solid cube of refuse.
That
night, after hours tossing and turning on her tear soaked pillow, Sara finally
collapsed into oblivion. She found
herself sitting on a park bench beneath a cloudless robin’s egg sky. A gentle breeze caressed her skin, stirring
the trees behind her. Its coolness perfectly balanced the sun’s heat into a
glowing warmth enveloping her entire body.
A wide expanse of manicured lawn stretched from the bench down to the
shore of a sparkling lake. She knew at
some level this must be a dream, but it was unlike any dream she’d had before. This experience had none of the vagueness and
indefiniteness of other dreams she remembered.
Rather, a sense of reality pervaded it that made her more alive than
when she was awake.
Maybe
she had finally achieved her goal of lucid dreaming, something she had
attempted many times before without success.
She turned her head to the sky and imagined herself floating upward from
the bench into the heavens.
“It’s
not that sort of dream.”
Sara
jumped at the sound of the voice and brought her head down. “Grandma, what are you doing in my
dream?” She had a horrible thought. “You’re not…dead are you?”
“No,
I mean, yes…wait just a second.” Her
grandmother lifted her left hand palm upward and using the index finger of her
right hand appeared to manipulate something on her palm as if it were a
touchscreen. “That shouldn’t…where is
it? Ah, there’s the problem. Now I just need to…there that’s got it.” Her grandmother disappeared replaced by a tall
woman with a kindly, familiar face. Sara
was certain she had met her before and affection was associated with the
meeting, but she couldn’t place the circumstances. The woman wore a simple tailored gown of pure
white. Her hair was completely white
each strand neatly in place. Her
attractive face was tanned and lined, but not heavily. Her age was indeterminate; she could have
been thirty or sixty.
Sara
stared at this new apparition with narrowed eyes. “You’re not my grandmother then?”
“No,”
the woman shook his left hand and frowned at it. “My appearance generator is supposed to produce
an image of me that is authoritative yet comforting, without being overly
familiar. I’m afraid the familiarity setting
was just a little high.”
“You’re
not dead then?”
“Certainly
not, I’m an angel and I’m here to deliver a message.”
Sara
cocked her head and eyed the man skeptically.
“An angel? What about your
wings?”
The
woman waved away her objection. “Popular
misconception based on past abuses of the appearance generators by some of my
more whimsical compatriots.”
Sara
rolled her eyes. She was already tiring
of this part of the dream and wished she’d move right to the part where she
could fly and manipulate her environment.
“Fine, whatever, deliver the message and leave so I can get on with my
dream.”
“Sara, it’s important that you
understand I really am an angel.”
Sara
regarded her with skepticism. “An
Angel? I don’t think so.” Sara looked around again at the surrounding
beauty. “No, you’re part of my dream, a
particularly annoying part at the moment.”
Sara turned her gaze back to the woman.
“But I can’t seem to make you disappear so, if my subconscious has a
message for me I—”
The
woman transformed into a brilliant pulsing ball of light brighter than anything
Sara had experienced before. Sara closed
her eyes instinctively at the change, but the light shone through as if her
eyelids were no barrier at all. Her eyelids
parted. To her surprise, she found she
could look at the light directly despite its blazing intensity. Moreover, great waves of compassion, acceptance
and kindness flowed from the light, overwhelmed her, drove her to her knees and
bowed her head. The light winked out.
Sara
raised her head. The woman was
back. He reached down and helped Sara to
her feet.
“Sorry
about that. It’s sort of against the
rules, but I had to convince you and I’m really rather busy at the moment.”
Sara
shook off her confusion. “Wow. Okay, you’re an angel. But…”
Something the angel had said when it looked like Grandma. “I asked if you were dead and you said yes.”
“Ah,
well,” the angel said looking a bit chagrined, “about that, I’m afraid that
exchange resulted in a bit of a miscommunication.”
Sara
stared at the angel as understanding flooded her mind. “Grandma’s dead.”
The
angel nodded. “It happened just after
you fell asleep. You’ll receive the
official word when you wake up.”
Sara
knew she should feel bad, Grandma had lived with them for several years when
she was younger and during that time had prepared most of the meals,
transported her to various activities and tucked her in at night with lullabies
of haunting beauty, but everyone dies and
an immensely powerful being had a message specifically for her. So, you have a message?”
The
angel squared her shoulders and seemed to increase in height. Her voice rang out reverberating through the
immensity of the landscape of Sara’s dream.
“Sara Jones, you have been weighed and found worthy. Your response to the extreme challenges of
your young life have been exemplary and have garnered you the blessings of
heaven on earth. In two years on May 18
you will purchase a lottery ticket at the convenience store on the corner of Sunset
Boulevard and 58th Street. It
will be the sole winning ticket for a prize of Eight Hundred and Fifty Eight
Million Five Hundred and Ninety Thousand Dollars. You will never suffer from want and be
blessed with the bounties of the earth, but more importantly you will use that
money to alleviate the suffering of millions of your fellow beings and at the
end of a long and blessed life will be received into the divine presence to
dwell with God and his angels in everlasting glory.”
Sara
was stunned. She’d had a difficult month
that was true, but she couldn’t bring to mind any way in which she’d been
particularly noble and in fact, now that she considered it, some might consider
sabotaging her boyfriend’s chance to make the varsity basketball team so he
could spend more time with her or kicking Patches the other day when she found
out about her grades to be something less than exemplary. Ah, well gifts and horses and all that. “Okay,” she said drawing the word out. “I just have a few questions.”
The
angel huffed, glanced at her right wrist and actually tapped her foot with
impatience.
“So,
you said something about al…al—”
“Alleviating the suffering
of millions of your fellow beings.” The
Angel finished quickly clearly anxious to be about some other business.
“Yeah, that. But I can use this money for myself too
right? I mean, since I’ve been so good
and all.”
The
angel stopped tapping her foot and narrowed her eyes fractionally. “Yes, certainly, as long as you don’t go
overboard.”
“Meaning….?”
“Meaning
your compassionate heart will warn you of excessive selfishness and act as a
natural brake on any self-centered impulses you might encounter. “Look, is that it? Because I really have to go.”
Sara
knew that she should have a million questions, but her mind blanked out. She shook her head.
“Wonderful. I look forward to meeting you at the end of
your life.”
Sara
opened her eyes to sun streaming through her window.
The
next two years dragged slowly by. Sara
quit high school because what after all was the point? She refused to move with her mother instead
passing the time living with one friend after another - the length of her stay
determined by the friend’s inability to recognize Sara’s superiority and fulfill
her basic needs, which admittedly from a certain cramped perspective could be
seen as substantial, but which Sara more realistically recognized as barely
adequate to her divine position. In the
end Sara resorted to promises of extravagant wealth which she delivered with
such sincerity that she managed to remain housed and fed until two years had
passed.
On
March 18 two years after The Dream, Sara stood across the street from the
convenience store on the corner of Sunset Boulevard and 58th
Street. The past two years had been
rough as more and more of her friends, family and acquaintances had abandoned
her despite her exalted status, but it had all been worth it because now she
was poised to collect her reward and begin living a fabulous life. She’d already planned her first purchases, she
had her eye on several exquisite Louis Vuitton dresses, Prada handbags and
shoes and of course homes in New York and Los Angeles and probably a private
jet for the commute. Of course, she’d
have to help people too, but there was plenty of time and money for that later.
Waiting
for the light to change, Sara noticed a young woman about her age walk up the
street and enter the Convenience Store.
Sara received a text just as the light turned green for her to
cross. She pulled her phone from her
pocket. Ugh, it was from her mother and
it was lengthy. She didn’t have time for
this—her destiny awaited. She crammed
her phone back into her pocket.
Distracted by the riches across the street and angry at her mother for
annoying her on the cusp of greatness, Sara stepped out into the street without
seeing the car on her left whipping around the corner in a right turn and
catapulting her thirty feet in the air.
Sara
opened her eyes. She was on the bench
from her Dream, but on the lawn in front of her a woman sat behind a desk glancing
through a folder. Sara rose from the
bench and marched up to the desk. “Where
am I?” Sara said.
The
woman closed the file in front of her and regarded Sara coolly. “You’re dead.”
Sara
laughed. “That’s not possible. I can’t be dead. I’m supposed to win the lottery and live a
long life and go to heaven. There must
be some mistake.”
The
woman smiled with indulgence. “You are,”
the woman glanced down at the folder in front of her, “Sara Jones
correct?” Sara nodded. “Then there’s been no mistake. Where did you get this idea of winning the
lottery etcetera?”
Sara
couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“The angel, he told me. Two years
ago in a dream in a place just like this.
He promised me.”
The
woman frowned and opened the file on her desk studying the contents
carefully. She glanced up at Sara. “An angel you say, in this place?”
Sara
nodded vigorously. She hopped they’d
straighten this out fast so she could get back to her plans. The woman looked straight ahead. Her eyes lost focus. Moments later the angel from her dream
appeared next to the desk.
“Finally,”
Sara said. “Tell her what you promised
me about the lottery and return me to earth.”
The
angel walked to Sara took her gently by the elbow and led her to the desk. “I think we can clear this up. Please place your hand on the desk Sara.”
Sara
laid her hand on the desk. The angel and
the woman behind the desk leaned forward and studied her hand. At the same moment, they both sighed. The woman leaned back in her chair; the angel
straightened up. Sara looked from one to
the other. The woman looked away; the angel
fidgeted with her hands.
“There’s
no easy way to say this,” the angel said finally. “Sara, there’s been a mistake.”
She
couldn’t believe her ears. “Mistake?”
although she tried to sound calm, her voice squeaked.
“Yes,
about the lottery ticket. It seems you
are the wrong Sara Jones. It’s a common
name, and I guess I just assumed you were the one. I should have examined your aura before discussing
the lottery ticket with you.”
Sara
collapsed to the ground along with her shattered dreams. She wasn’t going back to earth to live a life
of luxury; she wasn’t going back at all.
She was dead-before all of the good stuff. It wasn’t fair. She thought she should cry, she wanted to
cry, but in whatever form she was, that was denied her. After a time, she again noticed her
surroundings-the perfect weather, the impeccable vibrant landscape-and
remembered the second part of the angel’s promise. She levered herself to her feet and stood
tall. She was strong, she wouldn’t allow
this reversal to defeat her. She looked
the angel squarely in the eye.
“Fine,”
she said, “I forgive you. I suppose such
earthly rewards are insignificant anyway in view of eternal happiness in the
Divine presence.”
“Ah,
well,” the angel said looking a bit chagrined, “about that….”
