The Overpass
The dream had come back again where I would lie on the clouds and look down at a black canvas with little specs of light moving about. I was never sure whether they were fireflies or headlights. I didn’t care; though knowing the difference could have provoked an influential thought or two, one that could have potentially saved my life, or John’s. In each dream, I would follow two lights with my fingers. They would be in my possession. I’d swirl them around in circles to see the stream of light left behind before they disappeared; spell out letters and words in cursive to make my name, or the word balloon, look beautiful; draw smiley faces, or frowns, depending on my mood. Then, I’d let the lights touch. One would think the light would only get brighter when added to light; like fire to fire. However, each time one illumination would come into contact with another, both lights would go out. I could turn off any light I wanted to from the comfort of a cloud. I was untouchable. Some nights, the dreams ended in total darkness. I hadn’t started having that dream until the previous year, but after they started, I couldn’t get rid of them.
The Sunday sun managed to reflect one ray of blinding light off of the water directly into my path of vision, forcing my eyes open and waking me from my long night’s slumber. The tears were fresh on my face; I always woke up crying from those dreams. The air was cold, and all I could hear was the sound of the waves crashing against the wood. For just that moment, I’d forgotten all about my situation. The days before were nothing but foggy memories that I did not dare tap into. I was still myself. I was still the same Alyssa, just without a boyfriend, a family, and a home. I managed to push those thoughts to the back of my mind. All I recognized now was the glassy water that surrounded every side of me, with no land to hold me back, but no real place to go. The ocean was barely visible, for the water was green, holding tints of blue that served as the only evidence of there ever being purity before all of the pollution tainted it.
I had visions of the blue accumulating in my mind, permeating with the waves, becoming one with the green, moving from turquoise, to an overwhelming remnant marked by cleanliness. I guess that was my only hope; reaching those tropical blue oceans that let me see my toes in the soft sand once again.
When I closed my eyes, I thought about the trip I went on to Bermuda my freshman year with my best friend and her family. I remembered standing at the edge of the shore for what seemed like hours, just watching the waves expose my sandy white feet to the wet, warm water while my toes slowly disappeared into the floor below me. I felt joy. That is the week I fell in love with the ocean, and the week I decided to start saving up for my boat.
I wished now that maybe my beloved boat could take me away from it all, and bring me back to innocence, but every time I peeked over my shoulder, I saw John’s dead body sitting cold and grey in the back, proving otherwise. I walked back to the stern of "The Overpass" and closed my eyes once more.
I started to remember again, falling into a daydream. John was the first boy I'd ever had on my boat. He never cared much for sailing, always telling me how stupid it was, calling it an "old man hobby". Yet still, I always was infatuated with the ocean. "To hell with John," I thought aloud. Upon that thought, I felt my toe against his hard hands. My eyes opened.
There was dirt in between his pale white fingernails, and blue veins ran in webs, finally visible through his paper skin. Chills traveled down my spine, making the hairs on my neck stand up. I felt tears building up in my eyes, tickling my eyelashes, but the memories of him and my life before this jerked those tears back as I buried my head in my hands.
I had been with John for two years, and in those years I had experienced more heartache than I ever had when I was single. His poltergeist personality was not much to mourn over. I wasn’t always that cynical, though. Years of abuse from John had gone to my head, and my one visit to therapy a few months back made it clear that he’d caused the dreams. He was the toxin, and my mind was the open wound. I had let him get to me. Never before had I ever been dependent. Images flew back into my mind as I thought about my old life of freedom. I used to smile. I used to laugh and run around with my dog, Bugsy. I would sit on the porch of my house with my best friends and watch all the people walking down Main Street. Then John came around. My friends warned me as soon as they met him, and again when I started becoming distant. I wished I had listened.
My eyes opened again, and by then I had no idea what time it was.The wooden floors of the ship were painted dark brown with the moisture of yesterday's rain, and it was only when I looked down at them that I realized the storm was over. The air around me smelt crisp and new, like it always does after it rains, accompanied by the beautiful scent of the salty ocean around me. The cerulean skies were the only thing in sight, with one or two white clouds here and there, and of course the blazing, but distant sun, reminding me that a new day had finally arrived. The dark grey clouds moved west back toward home, casting blackened shadows over that part of the water that I could only see from a distance. I listened to the waves again. Everything was calm. The water seemed to ease in and out, tapping the wood with accelerated power that was influential, but never threatening; almost as if to say “I’m here, but I’m not going to hurt you.” I licked my dry, chapped lips, tasting nothing but morning breath and the salt of the water and my own perspiration. Perhaps I should have brought my chap stick, or at least my toothbrush. "Gross," I thought.
I lay down on a beach towel I found under the seats and continued thinking about everybody back home. What would Ms. Banks do when she realized her son was missing? What would my mother do? They would see that "The Overpass" wasn't at the marina, and if they'd sent people out looking for us, there's no way that I'd ever make it out of this. I walked toward the bow of the ship. The sun glistened off of the water in front of me. I stood at the tip of the boat and let out the loudest screech I'd ever screamed. It was a long way to paradise and clear blue waters, and the journey had just begun. I promised myself I wouldn’t ever think of my life before John again, but that was all I had done since I left. The memories of the incident were knocking at the door of my mind, and by nightfall, I knew they'd come flooding back.