Dream Journal
My parents and I were standing in Melissa’s old bedroom talking when we heard sirens in the distance. The sirens got louder and louder, closer and closer, until I could see lights flashing outside Melissa’s curtained windows.
I knew that the fire trucks were in our parking lot, and wondered how Lacey was doing with the sirens. She was downstairs sleeping in my old room under the blankets, and I heard her start to whine and howl. I called her name and she ran to me. I covered her ears with my hands trying to block out some of the painful sound.
My parents and I walked outside towards the trucks, who had parked in front of my dad’s shop. Two firemen were inspecting the 500 gallon gasoline tanks.
They explained to me that the hoses were clogged and they needed to fix it immediately. They squeezed the handle to clear the hose of its blockage and asked me to do the other hose.
We pointed the hoses into the weeds across the parking lot, long powerful streams of clear liquid. I worried about getting the gasoline in my mother’s garden, knowing that her garden lay just bejond that patch of weeds.
I looked at my mother and she furrowed her brow, probably worried about her garden as well. The liquid streaming out of the hoses turned into a bronze color, more like gasoline should look. We let go of the handles and turned the hoses back towards our feet.