Categories > Original > Fantasy > Tradewinds 06 - "Falling"
“FALLING…”
“MMMM… I DON’T wanna go to school…”
Shades rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head. The darkest hour is always before dawn, before it could dawn on him that it was Saturday, and there was no school on Saturday. (At least not in this world.)
Ha! Mrs Banner! For no particular reason remembering his fourth grade teacher. Your educational powers have no effect on me on weekends!
He turned again, splaying himself out on his back. Feeling the squares of summer sunshine which had crept up on him, warming his whole body, and knowing that Saturday morning was passing into Saturday afternoon. A whole day, and he had all of that day to decide what to do with it. For all his years in the trailer, he had slept on a fold-up couch in what was technically the dining room. His bedroom was right behind the wall, but the heating system didn’t reach back there— the rest of the year, he had simply grown accustomed to sleeping in the dining room.
On a few occasions, especially in his early years there, he had had dreams about sailing the seas on that fold-up, like a raft, off on adventures he only remembered bits and pieces of after he woke up. There were parts that were bright and joyous, but there were also parts that scared him. Even so, the idea still intrigued him.
It all felt so real, so right. On days like that, the waking world felt so fake, like he was walking around a movie set. Like he could just wake up from his own life.
Back then, before Mom’s schedule changed, and they came to see less and less of each other in the morning, she usually woke up first, often turning on the radio while making breakfast. Sometimes she was there when he woke up, sometimes she wasn’t; either way, he would often wake up to the sound of Oldies, and sometimes the music would seep into his dreams. Later, as radio went down the crapper, he saved up and got a tape deck alarm clock, playing his mix tapes, for he had quickly become immune to the sound of alarms, no matter how loud, yet it was always strange when it happened.
Soundtrack and subtext.
So, in his foggy musings, it stood to reason that a movie could do the same thing. Based on how stiff he was from head to foot, that must have been one hell of a realistic dream to be thrashing around so much. Feeling as if he had just attempted the world’s first sleep-walking marathon, he debated whether or not to look at the TV page and find out what could possibly have been playing last night. After getting something to drink, for he was also a trifle parched.
Slowly Shades opened his eyes, already trying to figure out how to apologize to John for missing their hike. (And a voice in the back of his head telling him that he had a lot more to apologize to his friend for than that.) Discovering that he didn’t have nearly as much light to blink away at as he expected, the room came into focus. He turned his head to see mute beige walls, a light blue pillow tossed on the floor, the lamp next to the bed glowing softly. And the TV that sat on the edge of his peripheral vision was decidedly turned off.
The hotel room was still very much the way he left it when he crashed.
“No way…”
As his mind was unable to come up with any other response at the moment, Shades simply went back to sleep.
“MMMM… I DON’T wanna go to school…”
Shades rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head. The darkest hour is always before dawn, before it could dawn on him that it was Saturday, and there was no school on Saturday. (At least not in this world.)
Ha! Mrs Banner! For no particular reason remembering his fourth grade teacher. Your educational powers have no effect on me on weekends!
He turned again, splaying himself out on his back. Feeling the squares of summer sunshine which had crept up on him, warming his whole body, and knowing that Saturday morning was passing into Saturday afternoon. A whole day, and he had all of that day to decide what to do with it. For all his years in the trailer, he had slept on a fold-up couch in what was technically the dining room. His bedroom was right behind the wall, but the heating system didn’t reach back there— the rest of the year, he had simply grown accustomed to sleeping in the dining room.
On a few occasions, especially in his early years there, he had had dreams about sailing the seas on that fold-up, like a raft, off on adventures he only remembered bits and pieces of after he woke up. There were parts that were bright and joyous, but there were also parts that scared him. Even so, the idea still intrigued him.
It all felt so real, so right. On days like that, the waking world felt so fake, like he was walking around a movie set. Like he could just wake up from his own life.
Back then, before Mom’s schedule changed, and they came to see less and less of each other in the morning, she usually woke up first, often turning on the radio while making breakfast. Sometimes she was there when he woke up, sometimes she wasn’t; either way, he would often wake up to the sound of Oldies, and sometimes the music would seep into his dreams. Later, as radio went down the crapper, he saved up and got a tape deck alarm clock, playing his mix tapes, for he had quickly become immune to the sound of alarms, no matter how loud, yet it was always strange when it happened.
Soundtrack and subtext.
So, in his foggy musings, it stood to reason that a movie could do the same thing. Based on how stiff he was from head to foot, that must have been one hell of a realistic dream to be thrashing around so much. Feeling as if he had just attempted the world’s first sleep-walking marathon, he debated whether or not to look at the TV page and find out what could possibly have been playing last night. After getting something to drink, for he was also a trifle parched.
Slowly Shades opened his eyes, already trying to figure out how to apologize to John for missing their hike. (And a voice in the back of his head telling him that he had a lot more to apologize to his friend for than that.) Discovering that he didn’t have nearly as much light to blink away at as he expected, the room came into focus. He turned his head to see mute beige walls, a light blue pillow tossed on the floor, the lamp next to the bed glowing softly. And the TV that sat on the edge of his peripheral vision was decidedly turned off.
The hotel room was still very much the way he left it when he crashed.
“No way…”
As his mind was unable to come up with any other response at the moment, Shades simply went back to sleep.
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