She
padded out of the bedroom, on autopilot, her brain still foggy from sleep, and
turned toward the half open nursery door. She pushed it and tiptoed across to
the crib.
A
tiny lump lay peacefully under the snow-white comforter. She smiled proudly
down on her little man, but didn't try to wake him. As the seconds ticked by,
she realised how quiet the room was. No creaks of timber expanding in the warmth
of a new day, no leaves rustling on the tree outside, no cars passing, no
voices on the street - no anything. Most importantly, no baby snores coming
from under the blanket.
"Billy?"
she said gently, and laid her hand on the swaddled bundle. Not a stir.
"Billy?" she said again, her fingers drew back the cover. She could
only see his face in profile. Billy's lips were half open, her eyes registered
the blue tinge to his skin and the utter stillness of his chest. It was a
vision so horrible it splintered her mind into a thousand pieces.
***
BILLY!
she screamed, and shot bolt upright in the bed. Her arms were outstretched. Tom
bounced out of the bed, disorientated and frightened. From the nursery, an
urgent shriek joined her cry. She blinked twice, separating dream from reality,
then sprang from the bed. Her skin was drenched in sweat and her was racing as
she ran toward the baby's room. She threw the door open with a crash and snatched
Billy from his crib. She inspected every inch of his screaming pink face with
fluttering fingers. The dream still vivid in her mind.
"You're
ok! You're ok!" she said as she rocked him. The vision of Billy- blue and
unmoving was still too real to be dismissed. She kept looking at him, kept
checking him, even though he was making enough noise to wake the dead.
"Jesus
Christ! What was all that about?" demanded Tom from behind her. April
could only cradle her boy as her brain tried to recover from the shock. Tom's
fear turned to anger. He threw his hands in the air and stormed from the room.
"You're
ok," April told Billy, over and over again, until she finally started to
believe it herself.
***
When
Billy's cries dwindled to whimpers, she picked his blanket from the crib and
wrapped him in it. There was no way she could make herself leave him down, so
she took him with her to the kitchen. Tom was standing over the sink with a
glass of water shaking slightly in his hand.
"You
scared the life out of me," he said, no longer mad.
"It
was horrible," she said, holding the back of Billy's head as she bounced
him gently in her arms.
"What
was?"
"I
saw him dead in his cot. He was blue!"
"It
was only a dream."
"No,
I know a dream when I have one. This was something else, it was too real. I
could see everything, feel everything. It was real."
He
put the glass down and came toward her, taking them both in his arms and hugged
them to his chest. "You're exhausted, we both are. Look at him - he's
fine." She did look down and Tom was right, Billy was even starting to
close his eyes. She was too tired to argue, too tired to explain, so she let
her own eyes close, to enjoy the warmth of Tom's love. She couldn't explain it
but she knew - knew- that this was more than a dream.
***
Two
nights later the dream came again and this time it was worse. This time, she
knew what was coming even as she went through the motions. When she drew back
the cover, she knew what she would see, which made it even more horrible, more
realistic. Again, she woke the house with her scream, and it took her even
longer to get a grip on things. This time Tom, was not angry, he was something
more worrying. He was frightened, frightened for her. He tried to reassure her,
tried to reason with her, but she pushed him away. He didn't believe, he
couldn't believe, because he had never seen. April was no fool and she knew
there was more to this than a stupid night terror.
The
next morning, after Tom had gone to work, she began researching dreams on the
internet. It was mostly rubbish about unresolved childhood issues or daily
conflict being lived out in dreams but then she found something called Psychic
Premonitions. Dreams of the future, or possible futures. It made terrifying
reading. Story after story of people dreaming their own deaths, only to swerve
it in real life at the final moment.
She
thought about her own dream and her fear grew deeper. Was her premonition
unavoidable? She thought about showing Tom the articles, but instead, she wiped
the computer history. He wouldn't understand.
That
night, the vision didn't come, but she hardly slept with worrying. Tom tried to
sooth her but it was pointless. If she was honest with herself, she didn't want
to sleep, she was afraid of dreaming.
She
started the next day groggy and cranky. Breakfast was a sullen affair and Tom had
barely said, "Good bye," before she had the laptop open, scouring the
internet for advice. Eventually she found a chatroom dedicated to psychic
phenomenon and decided to log in. She posted a question about premonition
dreams and was bombarded by interest. They all agreed on one thing, psychic
dreams were real, and they were signposts for the future.
Spiritguide443 gave
the most useful advice. She said that you had to figure out what you did in the
dream that made the terrible thing happen, then change that in real life. It
made sense to April, and all day she tried to figure out what it was in her
dream that caused Billy to die. She could only think of one thing. Billy
stopped breathing for some reason. She would have known - if she hadn't been
asleep.
That
night over dinner, she explained her theory to Tom, leaving out the bit
about Spiritguide443 and the internet. Tom said it
could do no harm to get Billy checked out by their doctor and suggested she get
a check-up herself.
"There's
nothing wrong with me," she snapped.
"Jeez,
I'm not saying there is. It's just...well...the dreams and...everything."
Each of his words were hand grenades going off in his face, but he failed to
see the danger of his actions. The rest of the night passes in sulky silence
but eventually she relented and an appointment was made with the doctor.
They
were sliding into bed when April turned to Tom and asked, "Will you stay
up for a bit and watch him while I sleep?"
"April,"
he said, the sigh in his voice said everything. It said he thought she was
being silly, overreacting, irritational.
"Please,"
she asked softly, and gave him her biggest doe-eyes.
"Alright,
if it will make you feel better," he said, sitting up and taking his book
from the bedside table. April rolled over and for the first time in days felt
secure enough to close her eyes.
It
might have been minutes or hours before she woke, thankfully a waking that
wasn't accompanied by manic screaming. She rolled over and saw Tom snoring! She
sprang from the bed and raced into the nursery, waking Tom in the process. She
didn't even have to go inside the door to hear Billy breathing, and as if
knowing she was there, he farted. Little rascal. She went back in to their
bedroom leaving both doors wide open. Tom was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"You
promised," she said, glaring at him.
"I
must have nodded off. What's the big deal? I would have heard him if he
cried," said Tom, fluffing his pillow. April got back into bed but sat
rigidly against the headboard with her arms crossed.
"Come
on, get some sleep," he said, trying to draw her lower in the bed. She
shrugged off his hand and huffed. "Suit yourself," he said, and
turned away from her. She sat there in the dark, furious with Tom, listening to
Billy breathing. Slowly the hours passed and the sky outside the window began
to lighten. Her eyes closed a few times, but before sleep took her properly,
she jerked awake.
The
next morning, she drove to the doctor's office like a woman on drugs. After a fidget
filled hour in the waiting room, they were called inside. The Doc gave Billy a
good going over and declared him as healthy as a horse.
"You
on the other hand look like you need a holiday," the doctor said
seriously.
"I've
not been sleeping so well," she said. She decided to bite the bullet and
tell him about the dreams. To his credit he didn't ridicule her, but he was far
from reassuring.
"Vivid
dreams and anxiety are not uncommon in your circumstances, but the worst thing
you can do is to bottle this up. You need to talk with someone who can help
you." He was making it sound like she was losing her mind, and she was
starting to feel that way. He questioned her further and each probe made it
sound like she was depressed, or not coping. She just kept nodding and agreeing
until she could get the hell out of his office.
That
night Tom asked about the doctor. She lied and said the doctor thought it was a
good idea to keep an extra vigilant eye on Billy as sudden infant death was not
as uncommon as people made out. Tom looked shocked and asked,
"Really?" She knew the look in his eye, he was working at the idea
because it wasn't sitting right with him. That night, she pretended to sleep
until she knew Tom had nodded off, then she slipped out of the bed and spent
the night on the floor beside Billy's cot.
He
found her in the morning and went mad. Before she could stop him, he was on to
the doctor demanding to know what was wrong with Billy. He listened in silence,
his ears glowing red, and when he hung up the phone he turned and this time it
was he that glared.
"The
doctor said Billy is fine! Why did you lie to me?" She started to cry and
tried to explain herself. Tom said she was round-the-bend, and he was going to
make sure she saw someone about it, before things went too far. She begged, but
he wouldn’t changing his mind. He stormed out of the house, slamming the door,
which started Billy crying. April knew she had to do something; she need help,
but not the type Tom intended.
That
night, she again pretended to sleep, and had to fight her mind to stop it
shutting-down for real. She was so tired; she was having difficulty remembering
things. Tom had let her down, he had abandoned her when she needed him most.
Now there was only one person she could turn to, her Mother.
When
she felt Tom's weight settle fully in the bed, she slipped out and stuffed a
bag with essentials before going to get Billy. She picked him up, being careful
not to wake him, then slipped out of the house. She strapped him into his
baby-seat and sat it beside her on the passenger seat. She had to steady herself
as a wave of dizziness washed over her. It was only twenty minutes to her Mothers;
she would help protect Billy. Twenty minutes, and she would be safe.
She
scraped the car against a garbage can as she backed out, and knocked it over.
She knew Tom would have woken and she knew he would try and make her stay. She
put her foot on the gas and peeled away. How had it all come to this?
She
managed four turns before headlights appeared in her rear-view mirror and she
knew in her gut it was Tom coming after her. She pressed harder on the
accelerator and felt the car shimmy. Up ahead a bend loomed and her wheel
pumped across the white line as she fought for control of the car. She was
starting to see double and her mind struggled to stay alert. She wrenched the
car back across the white line, but it was all too much for her exhausted body.
Her mind wobbled and her vision spun. Her eyes closed, and no matter how much
she tried, she could not open them again.
***
Her
eyes fluttered reluctantly, as sunlight warmed her face. Was it morning
already? When had she fallen asleep? She stretched and heard the whisper of
crisp linen as the sheets pulled away from her body. She moved her leg to let
it drop over the edge of the bed but it collided with something solid. The
room was blindingly bright and made her squint. She looked around and
recognized nothing, she wasn't at home, this wasn't her bedroom. She moved her
hand to the side and felt the restraining bar and she heard the rhythmic
beeping of some sort of machine. She looked to her left and saw Tom, slumped in
a chair, his hair a mess and a few days growth of beard on his chin. She tried
to get up but she was so sore, she winced. The sound woke Tom and he shot out
of the chair.
"Where
am I?" she crooked.
"The
hospital. You went off the road," he said, taking her hand.
