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When I wake from them, something odd takes place in my reality. This time it’s the suitcase, last time it was the bottle of mouthwash that mysteriously appeared on the bathroom counter. Maybe I’m losing my mind. Perhaps all of the stress over the last year has finally taken its toll and I’ve snapped. Maybe I forget small details like leaving the mouthwash out or packing a suitcase and leaving it at the foot of my bed. But why? Why are the things that seem to manifest out of nowhere in my reality tied to the horrors of my dreams? Drifting back toward a sleep deprived unconsciousness, my last thought was I’ll be sure to call someone for professional help in the morning. Surely someone might be able to tell me if I’m losing my mind and possibly existing in periods of fugue states. He’s chasing me again. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck warning me of danger. I’m running through Union Park in Des Moines, Iowa toward the Heritage Carousel. Maybe there will be a Good Samaritan. Betty sipped her tea. “I can’t live without him,” she whispered, a tear emerging. With a lace handkerchief she wiped her eyes, braced herself, and looked at me. “I cannot let Amelia hurt. I can’t leave her to the foster system. She’s been hurt enough for two lifetimes. I know she adores you and you like her. You’re the one I’m supposed to trust to take care of her.”Reaching down, she opened a small portfolio, pulled some papers out and placed them in her lap, her hands resting on top of them.“I’d never ask this of you. I know it’s a burden and you’re so young. But I can’t leave Amelia to fate, the vagaries of the social welfare system. You hear such horror stories about children in their care.”Glancing down, she patted the papers, sighed, and handed them to me. “Would you consider this?” she asked. “For Amelia?”I read the top sheet and my world tilted. Petition for the Appointment of Guardianship for Amelia Destiny.An old memory flashed back to me; Darren Faith. My hands shook. He’d.
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