a dream in one actshortstorys
dreams are still unexplained and the phenomenon of
deja vu just as mysterious so what would it be like if fate
dreams and deja vu were intertwined.
Deja Vu
The breaks squealed as the taxi came to an abrupt halt. John Adams, a prominent businessman in his late thirties, stuck his head out the window. His dark black hair blew slightly in the wind. He looked over the traffic back up and pulled his head back into the cab. He leaned forward and handed the driver his bill, saying, "I think I'll walk from here."
John stepped out of the taxi and into the street. Cars whipped by. How unfair, he thought, that one lane can be so backed up and the other is going faster than usual. Finally, John spotted a break in the traffic. It came and John was through. He had gotten used to the traffic over the years, and knew when he could make it and when he couldn't. This time, though, he almost didn't.
He hopped up onto the curb and into the small crowd of people moving faster than the cars in the far lane. He glanced over at a blind man playing a guitar, his case open before him for donations. John smiled and nodded at the blind player, who smiled and nodded back. John laughed to himself.
The chicken danced down the street, greeting strangers, trying to get them to eat a Joe's Chicken. He danced, and spun, and twirled as he yelled out "Eat at Joe's" repeatedly. The chicken began to spin around again, and collided with John.
"Damnit! Get outta my way!" the chicken yelled and pushed John down the sidewalk.
John stumbled backwards and through the crowd. His heel hit a bump in the sidewalk and he fell, catching himself with his hand before he could hit the sidewalk. No one bothered to stop. As he got up, he noticed a bench on the side of the sidewalk had a big, black smiley face spray painted on it with a big red line through it.
John looked around to get his bearings and realized he was exactly where he wanted to be. He walked a few more steps before turning a corner and onto his street. His house was only three or so blocks down, and he would be there in no time.
HONK! HONK!
John glanced at the road as a car sped by. His babysitter stuck her head out the window and yelled at him, "Hey Mr. Adams!" They were gone before he had a chance to say anything back.
He reached his house and began to walk up the steps, taking them one at a time, just as a man, clad in black and a ski mask, bust out of the door and down the front steps, almost shoving John over the railing. John looked at the man as he disappeared around a corner. John dropped his briefcase and ran inside.
The first thing he noticed was his old-fashioned kitchen door swinging back and forth. He pushed the door open and looked down at the floor. Lying in a puddle of red was his wife and his son.....
John screamed as his eyes bolted open. Sweat poured down his face. The pillow behind his head was soaked, as was his shirt under his arms and around the collar. He raised his arm up to his forehead and mopped up the sweat with his sleeve.
The light flicked on, and his wife looked at him worriedly. "Everything okay?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, fine... just a nightmare," John replied as he rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom to swallow some aspirin.
"What was the dream about?"
John stopped. He looked at his wife across the room. "I don't remember..."
John stepped outside the office building and stood on the curb. The day had gone by just fine. He had made a deal for $8.3 million more than his firm was asking for, and had made his firm a huge profit. He waved his hand and a taxi pulled up to the curb. John hopped in and looked at the driver in the rear view mirror.
"Maplewood, please."
The driver nodded and pulled out into traffic. Slowly, a sense of familiarity came over John. He looked back up at the driver in the mirror. Why did he look familiar?
"Driver?" he asked. "Do I know you?"
The driver looked up into the mirror at him and shook his head. "No, sir, I don't believe so. But it is possible. I have a hundred fares a da--" The driver stopped and slammed on the brakes. "Shit!"
John stuck his head out the window and looked over the traffic jam up ahead. He handed the driver his bill, saying, "I think I'll walk from here."
Again, the sense that he had done this before hit him. He blew it off, thinking about how he had gotten out of cabs in the middle of traffic at least thirty times before.
John spotted a hole in the traffic and jumped through as it passed by. He was almost hit by a car that didn't bother to slow down. John stepped up onto the curb and noticed a blind man playing his guitar for money, his case open for donations. John smiled and nodded. The blind man did the same. As he started to laugh to himself, that strange wave of familiarity rushed over him again. He stood still on the sidewalk. The feeling was almost nauseating. He moved over the side and sat down on a bench.
A chicken.
The image flashed in his mind for half a second. Slowly, a phrase came into John's mind and he looked up at the people passing by. "Eat at Joe's," he whispered.
On the sidewalk, several meters ahead, he noticed a chicken dancing around, telling people to "Eat at Joe's." John grabbed his head as the feeling swept over him again, this time the worse ever. He had predicted it almost. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Blood.
The image came fast. John opened his eyes and looked around, and he eyesight came to a stop on a design painted onto the bench. A black smiley face with a red line through it. John squeezed his eyes shut again.
A man, in black.
The image flashed before his closed eyes but he couldn't place it. He had seen the man before. He knew it. But where?
A dead woman.
John squeezed his temples harder as the urge to vomit became worse. The sensation of déjà vu was overwhelming. He had seen all this before, he knew it, he could almost predict what would happen next.
A car.
"Hey Mr. Adams," he whispered to himself.
John got up and stumbled down the street, gritting his teeth. Shocked people stared at him confused and scared as he wandered down the sidewalk like a drunk. A path cleared for him by frightened pedestrians.
John reached his corner. He turned and began to walk down his street. He wasn't far now, just a few blocks and then he could lie down on his bed and think peaceful thoughts until this whole episode was gone and forgotten.
"Hey Mr. Adams!"
John looked up from the sidewalk just in time to see a car fly by with his babysitter sticking her head out the window, waving. The déjà vu came on again stronger than ever. He held back the vomit in his stomach. He had been here before, he knew it absolutely now. Slowly more and more images came to him.
The man in black.
His empty house.
A swinging door.
His wife and son... dead.
John broke into a run down the street. He quickly turned and began up his steps, two at a time. Just then, the man burst out the door and pushed John aside. John grabbed the railing to stop from falling over the side as the man disappeared around the corner.
John darted in his house and stopped dead in his tracks. The kitchen door was still swinging.
Sep 12, Oct 6, 1999; Jan 7, Jul 29, Aug 5, 2000
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