Staring longingly at that door all day between tasks at hand is no way to get through your day, I realize this, but I could not stop myself either. That man plagues me at this point in the story. The hour that he spent in my presence was too much to bear really, and I would be lying if I did not still to this day wish I could look at him. I would have been ashamed of myself had I been in control of myself, but I was not then. Unfortunately, I am now, and it never really changes so I will just go on with the tale. The last thing I ever expected at this point of my life was to care about any guy much less start to obsess over one, so fortunately at this point of that day as closing time was nearing, I was starting to snap out of it. I did not have to worry about all the other ladies that had been around star gazing when he was here because they all filed out of the joint as soon as he was gone. Jealousy was under control now as I had gotten over the pangs of some other townie getting her mitts into him. Realistically all I can do is call it pathetic and hope that it explains it all properly for now as I try to continue explaining it as I saw it and in the right order.
The clarity had started coming to me as I was cleaning up the diner that I had not been cleaning up along the way as I always had before. This was a lot more work than I was used to at the end of the day, and it was another reason to be ashamed of myself. My son should be out of football practice right now and is wondering why I had not shown up to walk him home from it. Of course, I do not need to do that it is just habit, and here I am an hour away from getting into a usual habit, and it was all because of that man Lou. Of course, seeing Burton like that earlier really did put a certain fear in me that I would hope to never have to see again in any living creature, and I guess I should be honest right now and say I haven’t seen Burton since that moment when he was sitting at that bar. Realistically I do not want to know what happened to him. Your ability to absorb knowledge decreases a lot when you become jaded, I know, but as I am cleaning the counter on that day, I am still quite confused.
The winds outside were howling quite a bit and the warmth of the air had settled down quite unreasonably, considering the way they were just a few hours ago. It is only 4pm at this time so you would usually assume that it would be warmer than it was at 9am when the door opened up to let that stranger in. That blast of warm air will never leave my mind, just like the beautiful man that rode in on it and the way he drank his coffee. It is quite chilly now, was exactly what I was thinking, as the warmth from the dishwasher almost burned my skin.
Genuinely the thoughts of my new favorite stranger were there as well, but the heat of the dishwasher more reminded me of warm air and hotter coffee. I’m the only person in the place now as Barney, the cook, went home about an hour ago, because it was my day to do the dishes, and I would have been done with those ten minutes ago rather than being on my way to do them as I finally finished up the counters. God there are a mountain of dishes today too, so I was all about getting on those as soon as I got my daydreaming under control.
The whistling wind outside had been steadily picking up for the last 20 minutes or so, but that is normal around here. Kansas never was the nicest of weather this time of the year, and my mind did tell me to keep checking the window to make sure that a tornado was not in the making across the horizon. We’ve had about 7 good ones around here in all the years I have been alive and most of them have done some really bad damage and the last one that rip a good portion of the roof off the Skillings Plant, and that was the first time we went through the turmoil of, “will they rebuild here” which in the end they did because it would have cost less to patch the roof. Rebuilding the place is not an option as the place is just a blackened pile of rubble now. That wind is starting to get ominous now as I am forced to deal with more chewing gum in a coffee cup. I swear I never could understand people that are that thoughtless when they do not have to clean up after themselves. I feel like I married half of the bozos that come into this place every day, and now that I think of it, I may have.
The only thing bothersome to me now, besides the wind, is the thought of having to walk home in it. Hair like mine and the wind are not good friends and my eyes really hate the idea, so as I am looking around the place for a rubber band or braided elastic or something. Yes, I usually throw a bunch in my purse but end up going through them quickly, I was thinking very distinctly when I saw a piece of paper under one of the tables. Even though I could have sworn I had just cleaned over there, I went over to pick the thing up, because I do not want to have to do more cleaning first thing in the morning. I was crabby about it obviously as I got down on my hands and knees to grab the piece of paper and hit the floor hard the second my hand touched it, terrified by the sound of glass exploding all around me.
My hands were clenched hard around my head as glass pieces were showering the floor and the only thing that saved me was being under the table between the booths, as it appeared to be the only place in the diner that was far enough away from the windows to keep the glass showering down on top of the table but not under it where I was. Trembling for what seemed like hours after I heard the last piece of glass hit the floor, it took everything in me to stop long enough to stand up and look at all the glass everywhere. The tears were streaming down my face leaving little muddy streaks I am sure but there was not a lick of glass in the diner for me to check it out, and of course I am still a woman I did look. Glass had torn into the vinyl on the booths, leaving every seat in the place completely useless for sitting on, and I really could use a place to sit and rest as my legs were still very weak under me. Shredded curtains were around every gaping hole that used to be the windows and scratched through tables throughout the diner looked equally terrifying when I see the damage that imploding glass could do to wood. It would have made short order of me, I thought as I noticed that everything except me was destroyed and unsalvageable.
It is a really humbling experience when you come to the self-realization that you should be dead, and there was no evidence in the diner that I would have survived that blast of imploding glass. Looking everywhere around there was not any evidence of a lot of things since it looked more like the place had gone through a sandstorm than anything else. Most of the glass had turned back to silica on the floor and gave a sandy, deserted look to the place. There was no evidence that the weather had been turning sour when I looked out the window, and as I look out the holes that used to be windows, I can see, or more importantly “feel” any in climate weather within a hundred miles of here. More notably as I look back on it, there was not that damp smell that foul weather always gives off when it is on the way, or the clean smell that usually remains after it is gone. There was no evidence that anything else had been damaged in the area, outside, no hail stones which is what you always find after an upswing if it was not a tornado. There was no evidence that the place I had been standing would have been very safe, as the glass had completely smashed all the coffee pots that were on the Bunn right behind where I had been. Then the scariest part of all of this came as I looked down to the spot, I had been laying which was the only place that the glass was not.
There was no evidence that there ever was a piece of paper there as I looked down in a double take. I was quite adamant to go right over there again and carefully get down on my knees and look around for it, and yes as I just said, that piece of paper was totally gone. I was as careful as I could be getting down there but still found myself pulling glass from my palms and brushing glass dust off my knees. Thank God for shock, since I felt no pain in my hands where a small amount of blood formed from placing my weight on the glass. My chest now started tightening up on me, as I am feeling it do just to relive this, and I noticed that my breathing was getting erratic. Despite my heart hammering I was able to sense that it was getting even worse. My own innate panic reaction was starting to take over as if there was something else about to happen, equally terrifying thus meaning equally as dangerous. That was when I knew I better get outside because the next part of this was going to be bad and the “deer in the headlights” method of dealing with stress never helps the deer so I would not be in a better position myself.
Stumbling to my feet and feeling more glass that I pressed my hands into as I clumsily stumbled up to get to the door, my heart starts pounding harder. It would have been crippling had I not been growing a survival instinct. I could feel cold sweat welling up all about my face, as I did finally make it to the door, and at the top of the two steps that lead into the diner I see that beautiful man, Lou standing across the street staring at the largest man I have ever seen. The two of them are locked in a conflicted death stare as they stand a mere 7 feet apart, neither of which daring to move a muscle for whatever reason, and I can distinctly remember wondering if either of them was breathing. I remember how still they were, and the expressions were lifeless. There was a shoot-out at the OK Corral appeal to the stare down. Both men had their hands, loose to their sides daring the other man to move first, so that the other could show off how fast they really are. The size of that man across from Lou was intimidating even from this distance, as he was so much larger than Lou, who is a large man himself. I could not help but start to worry as the most beautiful man I have ever seen could so very easily be ripped limb from limb by this circus freak of humanity standing across from him.
I had already forgotten why I had come outside, despite the wrecked diner behind me. These things were furthest from my mind as I recognized with great horror that the only thing on this planet that would scare me more than being inside an imploding diner was about to happen to me at that time. The freak of nature that had been staring down Lou was now diverting his attention from Lou. Slowly at first but quite obviously as it was the only motion that was going on at the time. The slow speed to which the whole ordeal was taking on, only showed how much respect he gave Lou across from him as he did not want a sudden motion to create something between them. I did not have a clue at the time what it was, but I could tell at the time and could even remember it despite what was about to happen. This was the exact time that what was going to happen next hit me like a bolt of lightning. It coincided with the ending of the forever that it took for his head to turn, and his eyes to meet up with mine. The blinding pain filled my head, and I was unable to even see him at this point. Locking up my whole body, I could feel a coursing panic attack take me. The terrorizing blindness was all that I could comprehend, and I do not even remember hitting the ground because I was unconscious before I did it. Since I was standing at the top of the stairs at the time I can only imagine the damage that my body had endured when I fell down the stairs and to the ground, but again, I was not exactly awake for it.
I was walking across a field, lost in what a beautiful day it was. The sun shining, and I could hear the birds singing. I would like to tell you about how this dream I was lost in was realistic. I would also like to write it in a way that would fool you into thinking that it was something other than a dream that would not be the truth. There was no way I would have been caught in my consciousness wearing a white dress and walking across a field of grass. On another note, the dream does pertain to what was going on around me so allow me to fill you in on what I remember about it, but we will just remain friends, and I will not fool you into thinking it was a “reality clash” or anything like that. It was a very pretty day in the dream though, and the reality I had left before coming to the dream was not as pretty. Technically speaking it was not as logical either.
Like most dreams go I continued along the path in the field. I did not see a path, but I was compelled to walk along it, as imaginary as it was. I was incapable of waking from the dream so I figured I should roll with it. Dreams are odd as you go through them. I have had enough time to examine my dreams since then and I have become an expert on them in all honesty. This is what happens when you cannot tell if you are dreaming or not. For example, in that dream I can distinctly remember the feel of the breeze, and the warmth of the sun. I cannot tell you about the smell in the air. I can remember hearing birds and seeing clouds. If I had picked up a dandelion and started chewing on it, I could not have told you the taste or how sick it would have made me. It is a question of experience. That which I have experienced I can imagine, and that which I have not I either must be experiencing or had the experience of. I am sure there are more than a few of you reading this right now and wondering why I am telling you all of this, and especially so early in the tale. The answer is simply because it will not change a single thing in the whole story, and more over I want you to know that I know the difference between reality and a dream. It will get cloudy from here.
When I finally spied out a bench off in the distance, I could finally recognize it and my surroundings even though they had been altered quite a bit. That bench is the one that sits all alone outside of the large field next to the high school in town. Nobody ever sits on it when school is not in session, and it was just a place for the school board to sit when they assess the school every year. The principal has been known to sit on it from time to time when he is giving a tour to a visiting congress person. Aside from that this bench really is not close enough to anything to be useful and has not been used enough that it usually just collects birds. The fact that I am walking towards it, and the field that I am in is about three to four times larger than the actual field would have set me towards understanding I am in a dream if the stupid white dress had not done it. The closer I get to it, I just cannot wait to sit down on it, and that would make it the first time I have ever sat on it in my life. The bench is not empty though.
Of course, with Lou sitting on that bench it would make sense that I would want to sit on it. The white dress is still out of place but when Lou is involved any form of clothing on my body seems silly. Dream or no dream he is still such an amazingly beautiful man. He is perched off to the side, to let me sit down next to him. Most people sit on a two-person bench in the middle to ward off people from invading their space in case you never noticed that. The act of having to ask someone to move over so that you can sit down is just too much for most people and that is understandable. Men will not do it so that they do not have to have the “gay” tag applied to them if it is a man or the “pervert” tag applied to them if it is a woman. Women will not do it because men are perverts and women are bitches. He does not even allow me that luxury of walking away because the bench is full. His arm is draped over the back of the bench as if he is going to put it around my shoulders the moment I sit down, and it is exciting thinking of that prospect.
Before I could even sit down Lou stood up in a gentlemanly way and brushed off the bench. My stomach started doing flip flops as I was completely enthralled with his stately manner combined with his amazing, good looks. I perched myself as lady like as I could so that I would not show the world my panties under the dress I was wearing. Come to think about it, this was even more awkward by the fact that I do not think I have worn a dress in a couple of years, and I had lost all sense of etiquette. He finally spoke up and I lost my breath as he did it, “You look quite beautiful Anna. Do you know why you are wearing a white dress?”
My mind went blank. What do you say to something like that anyway? I know I am in a dream, and since none of this is real, should I simply make a joke of it and go on, or do I take this opportunity to make it one of those kinds of dreams and seduce him? I have not gotten to where I am in life by doing things the uncomplicated way, and I have not lived a life of dull un-reality either, so I figured I should just be honest with him. It is not easy when you have a committee in your head all giving their opinions though, and I could feel my headache picking up as I squeaked out the words, “I haven’t got a clue, it’s just a dream.”
Lou sat down while chuckling a lot more than I thought he should under the situation. There was a strange feeling that he really was there, while at the same time knowing he really was not. Dream or no dream I was not in charge of his reactions. This is how a dream works anyway. When I was a little girl, I used to have nightmares until I started realizing that I could change the ax in the murderer's hands into a dozen roses or a baby rattle. In this case I could not even get Lou to stop laughing at me or better yet profess his undying love for me. When his laughter had calmed down, he said, “Life is a dream, Anna. You are wearing a white dress for a reason, just like you dragged me into your dream for a reason,” he paused for a minute and licked his lips before he finished his thought albeit very vaguely, “it just would have been nice if you knew why.”
My splitting headache came to an agonizing pace when my eyes opened, and I could see one of the town’s two doctors, looking down on me from where I was obviously laying on my back. It would be my luck that it was the one that I do not use for myself or Jake, so he did not really know me all that well. My doctor would have instinctively known that I have panic attacks and a couple of times in my life they have laid me out. Of course, I have never remembered dreaming through any of them as I tend to be out for no more than a minute if even that. Now this doctor is not a bad person. I have waited on him several times at the diner, it is just that I have been seeing Dr. Welch my whole life, and we have only recently become a two-doctor town. The nearest hospital is twenty minutes away if the ambulance uses the lights, and that’s basically the only way anyone from here gets there. We have only had our own ambulance at the volunteer fire department for about six or seven years. None of this seems to matter, but I can simply wander off, especially when reliving a time of confusion. He looked at me and said, “Well you had quite a startle, young lady, would you mind looking at this light for me please?” and he was holding the pen light that my own doctor would have been under the circumstances. The young lady part made me smile since he is the same age as I am.
I have had two concussions from my panic attacks and that usually is the norm when you pass out and land on your head, but it beats the blind rage that Michael Jones used to go into when his panic disorder went into effect. Yes, there was Stacy and Mike, the two weirdoes with the panic attacks in school, and that was about it. They often acted like we were the only two people who ever had a panic attack in that school, but I often joked that most of the people in that school were a result of alien abduction. It is not so funny when you grow up with a mother that believed in it, but I still made light of it whenever I could. “Do you remember anything that happened while your panic disorder was hitting its stride, so that perhaps you can try to avoid these things happening to you in the future?” the doctor asked me to break up the chaos that my mind had become. I looked back at him awe struck because despite my dreams and the headache I would assume that a destroyed diner behind me would be a small clue that I had something to panic about. I waved my hand behind me so that Dr. Sherlock Holmes here could get a full grasp of the situation, and I could simply lay here in peace. “Did you twist your ankle? I hear that can cause a panic situation?”
Part of me was thanking God that I did not have this doctor now, as I started trying to get myself up in an upright position. He gently tried to calm me down and keep me lying on the ground. The more I strained against him the more voices I could hear all around us. My mind was starting to panic again as I could just think of all the morons in this town getting a good gander at Stacy the yummy mummy laying around in the street in front of the destroyed diner. I even started thinking about the rumors that have already started to justify how I destroyed the diner. I managed to slip past his encouragement to remain in the ground and was about to start explaining to him how he is not the master of the obvious, when I saw why he was not. My chest started tightening in on me as I saw the completely whole and unfazed diner that was standing behind me. I was fighting back another panic attack.
I did not exactly know what to tell the doctor since my delusions appeared too real, and aside from that nobody likes to go and start explaining their delusions to a doctor anyway. It seemed so real to me and more over I seemed to handle the delusion of the diner imploding fine. My panic attack was from staring into the eyes no matter how momentarily of that hulk of a man that was staring down Lou, whoever he might be. I was processing everything that has happened to me and in an instant decided that none of it was smart to talk about so I did what any woman would do under the circumstances. I lied, “Um, no, I can’t seem to remember anything strange at the time,” which came out as clear as if it had been the truth. Single mother with derelict ex-husband teaches you the art of lying like a used car dealer without all the flash. I could have been the actress that a few of those passersby pretended they wanted me to be. “I was just rushing too hard to get out and I think I overexerted myself,” and looking back on it, I was so close to telling the truth that it must have been as easy as it seemed based on the facts I allowed to get out. Nobody is ever going to question my survival instincts.
The doctor was not exactly enthusiastic about my feigned recovery but did manage to hear enough from me to convince him that I know how to deal with the aftereffects of a panic attack. I was desperately trying to hold onto the strange memories that I had rolling in and out of my consciousness too. The implosion, the stare down by Lou and God knows who that was, and the dream where Lou wanted me to understand the significance of the white dress. I could only imagine what my mind was like at the time because it seems like it was years ago. By the calendar it was only a week. I was carefully getting to my feet making damn sure that I did not get a rush of blood to my head and start the whole ordeal over again and also make sure that doctor was at bay. It appeared to work as I brushed myself off, shot out enough dirty looks to send the rest of the crowd away, and walked up the stairs into the deserted diner, where the clock stated it was four twenty, and I had only lost twenty minutes of my life from the time I saw the piece of paper on the floor and the time I had walked back in.
I tried to make sure that piece of paper was not still on the floor as I walked past the table it and I were under fifteen minutes ago. Heaven forbids my sanity come back too soon, and I find out that I simply needed to relive that moment again. Of course that had happened, I knew it did, and it could not have just been the dwindling fall into my panic attack. I was starting to doubt myself though because we do learn at an early age how powerful our minds are when it comes to playing tricks on us. It would have still sat in my brain as a hallucination to this day were it not for the coffee cup, I grabbed to drain out the last bit of coffee I had not dumped yet. The pain was startling, and I pulled away from the cup far quicker than the casual way I had grabbed it. My eyes saw the blood on the white cup, and looking at the palms of my hands with all the glass fragments and powder still on them I did a double take on them and then walked towards the bathroom doing my best not to have another panic attack ... to be continued.
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