متیو

MATEO

10:42 a.m.

Rufus shakes me awake.

I’m no longer on the mountain; I’m back on the train. The lights are on and we’re moving.

I take a deep breath as I turn to the window, as if I’m actually expecting to find boulders and headless birds flying my way.

“Bad dream, dude?”

“I dreamt I was skiing.”

“That’s my bad. What happened in the dream?” “It started with me going down one of those kiddy slopes.” “The bunny slope?”

I nod. “Then it got really steep and the hills got icier and I dropped my ski poles. I turned around to look for them and I saw a boulder coming for me. All of a sudden it got louder and louder and I wanted to throw myself off to the side into this mound of snow, but I panicked. I was supposed to turn down another hill where I saw my Lego sanctuary, except it was as big as a cabin, but my skis disappeared and I flew straight off the mountain while headless birds circled overhead and I kept falling and falling.” Rufus grins.

“It’s not funny,” I say.

He shifts closer to me, his knee knocking into mine. “You’re okay. I promise you don’t have to worry about boulders chasing you or flying off a snowy mountain today.” “And everything else?”

Rufus shrugs. “You’re probably good on the headless birds, too.” It sucks that that was the last time I’ll ever dream.

It wasn’t even a good one.