It was a beautiful day. Golden autumn trees reached out towards a warm September sky. The beginnings of evening were just setting in over the calm suburbia of Larksville. Sounds of children playing and happy music rang throughout the town. Neighbors conversed with neighbors, barbeques belched smoke and a general feeling of western fulfilment hung in the air. That’s what Larksville was - the American dream; apple pie, American flags, Coca-Cola. The suburb functioned like clockwork. Cookie-cutter houses were filled with cookie cutter families.
“What more could you want?” Dave said to himself as he drove home from work. Dave was living the dream. He loved his town. He had been there for as long as he could remember. In Dave’s mind, he had the perfect life. He never wanted to live anywhere but Larksville. In fact, the only thing he loved more than his town was his family. Dave was married to a woman named Lianne whom he thought to be the smartest and most beautiful woman alive. He also had two children, Sarah and Trey whom he adored more than anything. Dave considered himself the happiest man in Larksville if not the entire world.
As Dave drove, he smiled. He relaxed into the seat of his truck and inhaled deeply, taking in the world around him. It was the perfect temperature that day. The sun had yet to go down and a warm glow cast over Larksville. Neighbors watered their bright green lawns as the elderly sat in the shade drinking their sweet tea. Dave waved at them as he passed. They waved back and went back to whatever they were doing and Dave went back to driving, content.
As Dave drove by the school he could hear a football game taking place. A girl in a cheerleader’s uniform ran through the parking lot, clearly late for the big game. An air horn blasted and a ref’s whistle cut through the late afternoon air. Dave thought about how Trey would soon be old enough to be on the school football team. His son! His son would be a Larksville Lion! He suddenly felt a little burst of premature pride for his son’s future accomplishments. He imagined telling his neighbors about it. About “how well Trey played in his last game” and “yes we’re so proud of our little boy” or “don’t worry, one day your boy will be just as good as our Trey.” Dave’s smile broadened at the idea of that.
He pulled the truck into his driveway. As he did so, a little blonde girl with freckles ran out and hugged him.
“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! You’re home Daddy!”
“Yes sweet pea, Daddy’s home. How was your day?”
“Ammmazing!!! Look Daddy I drew a picture of us.”
Sarah held out a crudely made crayon drawing of stick people. Dave made a stern face and, in a fake displeased voice said, “Sarah! what did I tell you about stealing from the art museum?”
Sarah giggled and ran into the house. Dave followed her in. Lianne was waiting by the door. She was blonde, tall, dressed in blue and had a very slight southern accent. She kissed him and said “Hope you don’t mind spaghetti, I didn’t have much time to cook.”
“Sounds delicious.”
Sarah ran down the hall. “TREY!!!! TIME FOR DINNER!!!”
A stocky blonde boy in jeans and a  tee shirt came into the room and everyone sat at the table.
As Dave took the bowl of spaghetti, he looked around and thought for the umteenth time that day about how happy he was. He turned his head slowly, looking at all of his beautiful family. He was just about to take a bite of spaghetti when something strange happened.
His fork had begun to bend. Up and down it went, bobbing as if the metal had become a spring. Almost rippling in static. He started to say something to his family about it when he noticed something else. His family was rippling too. It was as if the entire world had just turned off physics and gravity. He began to feel something in his chest, like he was falling. He tried to scream but no words came out. He tried to move but it was as if he was partially paralyzed. Moving was like walking through a pool of jello. The falling sensation grew larger and everything went black.
“Rise and shine dummy” said a faintly recognizable voice. He couldn’t pinpoint who it was but he definitely knew it. He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. he reluctantly opened up his eyes. Where was he? This wasn’t his room, yet he remembered it vaguely. In front of him was a robust brown haired woman. “Get up!” she ordered. “You’re going to be late for work again.”
         “Wh….Wh….Who are you?” Dave asked.
         “What was that Jerry?” she responded, confused.
“Jerry?” he said even more confused.
“Yep, that’s your name dipshit.”
“What? No! I’m Dave. Where am I? Did you drug me? Where are my wife and children?”
“Very funny Jerry”
“I’M NOT JERRY!”
“Not only are you Jerry, you’re also apparently insane.”
Dave’s heart was racing. Seconds ago he had been eating spaghetti with his family and now he was in some foreign bed with some lady yelling at him. He began to freak out more. Where did his family go? Were they safe? The poor kids must be scared to death. He just prayed that they were ok. He realized he needed to calm down in order to communicate with the lady next to him. He slowed down his breathing and in a more calm voice, asked, “Please. Please tell me who you are.”
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
“I...I’m Martha, your roommate. We’ve been roommates for 6 years now.”
“But I don’t have a roommate. I have a wife, and kids, and my own house”
“Jerry? Are you Okay?”
“Stop calling me that! My name is Dave!”
“Okay...Dave. You don’t have a wife or kids, you’re single. You live here with me. Maybe you just had a really crazy dream”
“What? No. That’s crazy. I don’t know why I’m here but I do need to get home. Can you drive me to 2251 Sunset Road? It’s in East Larksville.”
“Larks-what?”
“Larksville….the town we’re in.”
“Jer- sorry. Dave, we’re in New York City”
“New What?” but even as he said it, vague memories formed in his head. Of him in NYC. his roommate Martha, even that name Jerry. It was as if he was remembering a past life, and not a good one.
Martha had given up on him and had left the room. He heard her yell from the other room “Stop playing games Jerry, go to work so you can pay rent. Now excuse me, I have to go do the same.” He heard the apartment door slam. Dave sat on the bed. What was happening? How could any of this be real? Was Martha right? Was Larksville all just one big dream? No. No it couldn’t be. He refused to even think of that. That would be impossible. It was his everything. He had made a family, a living, an entire life. To say all of that didn’t happen was ridiculous.
Suddenly, Dave became very scared. He was thinking about his son and football when he realized that he had forgotten the school football team’s name. He couldn't remember it. What if it was a dream? That would explain him forgetting things. No, that couldn't be true. Dave felt that accepting even the possibility of a dream would be the equivalent of killing his family. He couldn’t just do that. That was his family, not figments of his imagination. He had been there for the birth of both of his children, they weren’t fake, he helped create them.
Dave shut his eyes, blocking out the outside world. He had to go back to Larksville. He tried to concentrate. The blue sky, the perfect lawns, the smell of barbeque…Damnit! He couldn’t concentrate on anything. It was all being blocked out by the sound of traffic and sirens. He gave up.
He looked around the apartment. He appeared to be in a living room. Clothes and trash were strewn everywhere and an old TV was playing the news. He walked through the doors on the far end of the living room and into a small kitchen. He found a sticky refrigerator, dirty countertops, and a decrepit gas stove. He decided to eat. Dave first tried to cook some eggs. He found the eggs and cracked them into a pan but the stove wouldn't light. He checked behind the back of it and fiddled around but to no avail. If anything he made the problem worse. The air now smelled funny and he decided to sit down. He sat on the couch. He found the remote and started watching TV. Nothing was familiar. He just sat there helplessly staring at the screen, confused about everything. The smell was getting worse and he began to doze off.
Blackness settled in. He felt his dreamy consciousness drift through the darkness. Colors swirled, brightness came and went, and images formed. A blurry image appeared before Dave. At first he couldn't tell what it was. Maybe a bookshelf? A door? A horse? The image morphed in shape and size, and eventually Dave made out the blurry form of a table. The table slowly became clearer and clearer and forms appeared around the table.
As the collage turned to image, he saw them. Trey, Sarah, Lianne, all serving themselves spaghetti like nothing had happened. Lianne looked up from her food at Dave. He must have had a strange expression because she asked him, “Is everything alright dear?” Dave stared at her, at everything around him. Was this real? Was he really back? Had that horrible other place been the dream all along? It must have been. But that didn’t matter anymore. He decided to not think about it. Clearly it didn’t matter anymore. He was back in Larksville, and that’s where he wanted to be. Outside he could hear country music and children playing. Whatever that other place was, it wasn’t really home. Larksville was his home. In fact, he was forgetting that other place already. He picked up his fork and twirled some spaghetti onto it while his family conversed. What more could you want, Dave thought. Like Lianne always said, Larksville was “a little slice of heaven.” Dave thought about football, about trucks, about his perfectly square house next to all the other square houses, surrounded by pristine lawns. He liked everything about it. Dave was content.