I did not write down this dream right after having it. I was too young to write, five years of age, but I remembered it. While I may have colored up the vocabulary come the later years, but the experiences felt and the emotions behind them I recall vividly.

It began with darkness. Slowly, light filtered down from above and the center stage was a cast with a warm, golden glow. Wooden paneling covered the floor beneath my feet in all directions and stretched as far as I could see, but soon enough outcrops of scenery began to lower and set in place. They were bushes, obviously decorated in paintings and oils. The colors looked strange in such an ominous setting and even at that tender of an age I perfectly understood the sense of discomfort from it all.

But then I had my father by my side as well as my grandmother and a few family friends. We were walking down a path with the bushes on our left and right, but since they were only cutouts the pathway was perfectly straight and resembled more of a hallway than a jungle path. I grew anxious and giddy all of a sudden and tore at the necklace I was wearing and suddenly I ran away from the comfort and protection of my family. Where I ran, the cutouts expanded and formed a new path and an ever growing space around me and I didn’t stop until I was a good distance away from the dead end in the pathway. I stopped so that I could chuck my necklace, a tiny golden chain with a golden heart locket, into the bushes far ahead. Suddenly, the bushes pivoted and shook as a deep growling rumbled out from behind somewhere.

My father and grandmother walked up behind me and placed their hands on my shoulders, asking why I had done that, why had I thrown my locket away. “You aren’t getting it back now,” my father stated in a matter of fact tone. The experience was soon forgotten as we continued on the path to where exactly, I wasn’t sure. There weren’t many words made during the little trip, but I recall at times making myself float on command, just because I could, but I feared floating too far from my father and too high into the darkness above. And every fiber of my being didn’t want to see what was beyond the bushes on either side. We finally reached our destination, which happened to be a clearing with a single vehicle sitting stationary in the very center. It was an old vehicle, painted an ugly robin’s egg blue. There were four doors.

It was then that I took a good look at my family. T-shirts and jeans or shorts, light pastel colors and whites. My father wore a tie-dye shirt and light blue jeans. I wore something very similar, only white shorts. “Are we going to the beach?” I asked. They lead me to the vehicle and opened the front passenger door. I was too young, I told them, much too young yet to sit in the front seat. I tried to tell them we would all get in trouble. But I ended up in the seat anyway. I started to feel very groggy. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep.

“Look at the floor, Brittney,” my grandmother said in a wistful voice.

I did look at the floor and I regretted it instantly. I was petrified. The floor to the car wasn’t there. There was only a swirling, gaping hole of color and space. If I put my foot down or if I slipped in, surely I would fall forever or die. I was going to die! “Take me out of the car!” I cried. “Please take me out of the car, I don’t want to die!” They didn’t take me out. They pulled their arms away and laughed. They shut the door.

I woke up shortly after.