The Anachronistic Call

Dearest Rachel –

It all felt so real in the moment, honey. Dreams often do, I guess; it’s why you used to tell me yours so many mornings, and why you would ask me if I’d had any in turn.

It was a middle school field trip; we were visiting a local theme park, although not necessarily the local theme park, as I didn’t recognize the layout of the place. Then again, that wasn’t what I was focusing on at the time. Things were already starting to go wrong for me even as I joined the story already in progress. Something had happened to my backpack that I had brought, and I couldn’t find it anywhere. I asked my classmates if they had seen it, and while none of them had, a good third of the class seemed to be smirking at me when they responded in the negative. I could just tell that they either knew exactly what had happened, or were directly responsible for it, and not owning up to it. I know I was the outsider in the school, being one of the few non-Lutheran kids, but I don’t remember them being that mean.

In any event, there was nothing for it; backpack or no, I decided I might as well get on with the rest of the day. Besides, how often do you get a chance to run around unsupervised in a theme park?

At some point, I found myself getting strapped into a slingshot-style ride (which, now that I think about it, is wildly out of character for me, regardless, of what age I am. But whatever; let’s roll with it). Just as the attendant was fastening, the safety straps around me, I felt a vibration under me, and I asked to be released from the seat in order to check it out.

It was The Call.

Mom, her voice choked with emotion, told me that Dad had passed away while I was out on this junket with my class.

At that moment, everything that was building up within me – the antagonism of my classmates, the loss/theft of my backpack, and all those other little inconveniences of the day – burst through, and I collapsed to the ground, screaming in rage, grief, and frustration.

Slowly, however, I found myself taking stock of the situation. How is it, I thought, that I’m getting a cell phone call when I’m only in middle school, here in the early eighties? This can’t be real…

… and of course, it wasn’t. That simple observation of the anachronistic nature of the situation was enough to wake me up, and once again, I found myself relieved to realize that, while I still had it hanging over my head, Dad was still here, among other things. I still have the meeting to attend to discuss his progress towards recovery later this morning, and in order to prepare myself for it, I would still need another four or five hours of sleep yet – which I eventually allowed myself to have.

But the dream stayed with me, and I thought you ought to know about it, honey. It was the sort of thing you’d ask about, back in the day. Hopefully, I’ll have more to tell you about later today, about the day. 

Until then, though, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.