Dreams

I stare out into the cold watching flakes of snowdrift toward the field beside our house. The field is green with grass during the summer but now it’s brown and grey with winter. I pull a blanket up to my chin dreaming of warmer days.

The house has an eerie silence to it that frightens me. It’s not really silence but the sound when there are not other people around. A void of movement and conversation associated with civilization. For a brief second I feel as though I am in a wilderness trying to survive the bitter wasteland of nature. I think about it once more and come to the conclusion that nature is cold and brutal.

My mom and brother are not home. They will not be home anytime soon. I shiver in the cold of my room wishing for different circumstances. My waking dreams take me away from here but merely for seconds at a time. I often dream of a cute boy coming into my room and keeping me warm: I do not know why my dreams have me confined in my own room. I could dream myself to some exotic location but I guess my dreams are not capable of such a fiction as me being somewhere nice.

My cat curls up at my feet beneath the blankets and purrs as in a dream. I am certain that her dreams take her away from this place, or at least that’s what I believe. My cat is the only living creature, besides me, in this frigid house. There is a warmer room, the living room, but I am not accustomed to staying in that room since my brother is usually there. I fear his beatings: he chases me down when he becomes agitated with me.

I can hear the clock in the hall announcing the new hour. What time is it? Have I been dreaming for such a long time? I wonder if I can leave this place and go somewhere else.

I stand, kissing my fat on the head and covering her in blanket, and I pull on a thick coat. I will do more than sit here dreaming of what is possible. I will go out into the world and reach for those lofty dreams. The dreams that all have, but few follow: it’s like a star guiding me to a place I need to go with hopes for a grand adventure that waits for me out there.

I pack a bag of clothes and other items that I think I will need. Among the items is the porn I found in a box beside the creek near our house. The creek runs through a series of woods across the street from our house. Those woods are my refuge when my brother chases me. I found the magazine one time when he chased me into the woods. It was waiting for me to discover it.

I lock the door behind me with a few words as to say goodbye to the house that has sheltered me, though cold in the winter and hot in the summer, and I begin my journey into adulthood. Maybe I am only 14 but life is about to begin for me.

I walk slowly through the light snow. The snow does not remain on the ground long but when I look up I feel surrounded by white flakes.

The road is somewhat slippery but I walk on determined not to give up. I do not know where I am going, but the road will lead me somewhere.

A truck stops soon after I begin raising my thumb in the sky. He somehow saw me with the help of a streetlight. The cab of the truck is warm, so I do not hesitate to get in and close the door. The truck lurches forward slowly into the dark: the lights of the truck piercing the night only enough to see a small stretch of the road in front of us.

“Where are you headed?”

“Anywhere away from here.”

“I know how that is. I was your age once. I know that’s hard to believe, but I was like you. I left this place to go after my dreams.”

“What happened?”

“I achieved those dreams and then I came back.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just grew old and my dreams were no longer as important to me.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t let an old man stop you. You go after your dreams and you make them happen.”

The driver glances at me from time to time. He seems eager in a way that scares me, but the truck is too warm to want to get out. A hand touches my leg. I feel myself reacting to this touch, though I do not want this touch.

The truck stops at a small truck stop full of giant trucks. I think, at first, that the touching will stop since there will be so many people around but all of the people are inside trying to stay warm.

The truck comes to a stop in a dark corner of the stop. The hand a constant reminder of what I’ve gotten myself into. The hand moves up my leg. I am hard and I try to think of anything to make me soft again.

The hand reaches the buttons of my pants. I cannot move in fear of what would happen if I refuse the man’s advances. The hand is now opening my pants and all I can do is sat there waiting for the unenviable to come.

The hand is touching my dick, now out in the open, and the touch excites me. The hand is soon replaced with a mouth: a hot and wet mouth that covers my dick in warmth. I think about stopping him and dashing from the truck. The thought remains in my head as thoughts of how I like the feel of his mouth down there.

He finishes with a wipe of his mouth. I can smell his breath for a second as he sits up in his chair. He looks at me with a knowing grin.

“First time?”

“No, I have had it plenty of times.”

I consider this lie with a second of assurance before realizing that I cannot keep up that charade.

“No. That was my first time.”

“Don’t worry. I was where you are once.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m staying here for the night. Do you want to stay here with me?”

I consider the request for a moment, but I cannot stay here. I know that this is not where I should be.

“I think I’ll head on. It was great meeting you, but I need to keep moving.”

“Where are you planning on going?”

“I have no idea.”

The cold of the outside tempts me to return to the truck and ask if the offer still stands.

I walk slowly to the truck stop. There’s a small diner with a line of large truckers drinking coffee and eating runny eggs and dark brown toast. A woman behind the counter looks at me as I sit at an empty stool. She looks at me as though she’s my mother. I advert my eyes to avoid her gaze. I begin to think of home. Why do thoughts of home intrude upon my flight into the world when I am so close to freedom? The woman gives me a glass of milk without asking what I want. She must sense my anxiety when she walks up to me again.

“What’s your story, Hon?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you out here alone on such a dismal night?”

“I left home.”

“I figured that much. I want to know why?”

“Do I have to have a reason?”

“You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know. Trust me, Darling, there’s nothing you can tell me that I have not heard before.”

“I guess.”

“There’s nothing to guess. You know why you are here. I know why I am here. What I want to know is: why are you here?”

I look at the rest of the people at the counter. None of them seems awake enough to be listening to me. I want to have her go away so I can ignore the truth behind my flight into the night. 

“I left home to chase my dreams.”

“What’s the real reason?”

I look away from her toward the jukebox trying to think of something to say. How can I tell this stranger the truth when I am just now facing the truth myself?

“I’m gay. That’s why I left home.”

“See. It was not that difficult.”

“I know.”

“I think you should turn around and head home. You are too young to be out there in that big world alone.”

“I can’t go home. I won’t go home.”

The lady looks at me as though she is my mom. She takes a slip of paper and writes down a number.

“When you get to where you’re heading call this number.”

“What’s this?”

“If you’re looking for a place to go they can help you find that place.”

“Thanks. What do I owe for the milk?”

“Nothing. Just promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

I walk out of the diner into the cold. The snow is now heavy and sticking to the ground, but I do not stop. I keep walking toward the city knowing that wherever I need to be it’s there in the distance: somewhere in the dark, big, vast world.