Keep Dreaming Edit 1

8/14/2019 Keep Dreaming Edit 1

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Keep Dreaming

by Candice Chu

The first accident that changed Sams life took place in 1995, in front of his house, which

was a sunny little one-story rambler with pastel yellow walls and a muddy brown roof. The lawn

was patchy and yellow in the California summer, but, like Sams father said, it would just have to

do. The Ramos family had moved down to Anaheim less than a month earlier in hopes that the

more suburban environment would do them good, and with some luck, turn them into a paragon

of the perfect American family. Shabby grass was a small price to pay for Mr. and Mrs. Ramos

steady jobs and young Sams bright future.

Sam was playing by himself in the front yard while his parents talked in loud voices in

the kitchen. Their words echoed off the Spanish stucco and fluttered out the open front door, only

to be smothered by the heat. Sam didnt notice. He had an imitation HotWheels car in one hand

and a worm in the other, and was deciding which one to put in his mouth. The worm had a much

nicer texture than the truck, but the truck would not wiggle around in his mouth. But then again

the trucks wheels were almost too large for his mouth, whereas the worm

Suddenly, Sam heard the familiar jingle of an ice-cream truck coming down the street.

The ice-cream man is coming here! he whispered excitedly, to no one in particular. He

quickly abandoned his toys and waited by the mailbox.

Sam began to bounce up and down as the truck approached his house. But it didnt stop.

It whizzed right past at 40 miles an hour, a teen-aged boy with pink hair in the drivers seat.

Wait! Sam yelped, jumping into the middle of the street. Over here!


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But the truck continued on its way, and soon it was out of sight. Sam barreled down the

road in hot pursuit. His jeans made an odd chuffingnoise as his knees bumped against each other,

and his tiny Chuck Taylors slapped the asphalt noisily. Perhaps it was because he was

concentrating all of his might on running, or maybe it was because he was day-dreaming of

Fudgesicles, but Sam did not realize that the ice-cream truck, which was now less than 50 feet

away, had stopped moving.

Wait! he yelled again, his little hand outstretched as he neared the truck. Finally, he

stopped running, realizing that the truck was stationary. Only then, the truck was not stationary

anymore. It was moving backwards. Very fast. Sam felt a great thrill of fear run through his small

body as he turned to run in the opposite direction. He could hear the hideous shriek ofthe

Entertainerblaring louder and louder, untilwhomp. The end of the truck met with the end of

the boy, and the latter was launched effortlessly into the airup, up and, with a terrible thud,

down.

Sam opened his eyes ten seconds later to find himself sprawled on his back in the street.

He lifted his head painfully and saw the pink-haired ice-cream man racing over to where he lay.

He shrieked, peeled himself off of the ground and dashed home. Everything seemed to blur past

him. The trees pulsated to the rhythm of Sams headache.

Mam, he slurred, stumbling into the kitchen where his parents were busy arguing

about the cost of daycare. Me choqu con el heladero.

Grace, we cantafford that, Mr. Ramos said to his wife, gesturing to the yellow notepad

that was laid out between them. It was covered with figures and calculations.


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Then what are we supposed to do? Mrs. Ramos asked, holding her head in her hands.

Neither of Sams parents seemed to notice him wobbling there in the doorway, so he made his

way to the kitchen table and took a seat.

Look, my mother has been looking after Antonios kids for years. She

SAM! Mrs. Ramos cried, noticing her son sitting forlornly at the table with large globs

of blood trickling down his eyebrow. She flew over and scooped him up. Sam, are you okay?

What happened? What happened? she asked, poking under his hair and prodding his limbs.

Me choqu con el heladero, Sam repeated, trying to keep his mothers face in focus.

Oh, God! Mr. Ramos gasped.

A what, what? Mrs. Ramos shouted, looking back and forth between her husband and

her son. Dimelo en ingls! English, English!

I was hit by an ice-cream man, Sam translated for his mother. Suddenly, as though it

was all too much to bear, his eyes drooped shut and his body went limp.

Mrs. Ramos cried out and stood up, clutching Sam to her chest. Get the keys, Marco!

Wait. Mr. Ramos hesitated. Lets not be overdramatic. We dont want to have to

Get the goddamn keys, Mrs. Ramos interrupted tightly. Without another word, she

swept out of the house with Sams woozy head resting on her shoulder.

* * *


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The doctors at the Good Samaritan Medical Clinic could never fully explain the injuries

that Sam suffered when he got hit by the ice-cream truck. They said that it was lucky that he

even survived, and practically a miracle that he hadnt broken any bones. The only major injury

that he had sustained was a concussion.

So hes going to be okay? Mrs. Ramos asked over the din of coughing children and

moaning hobos.

As I said, the doctor droned, eyeing other patients streaming through the clinics doors,

Stans MRI shows decreased frontal-lobe activity, as well as increased activation in the areas of

the hippocampus and the thalamus. This is common among many patients who have suffered a

traumatic brain injury. Sometimes, these brain abnormalities can result in mental disorders, such

as bipolar disorder, amnesia

Hold on, Mr. Ramos boomed. What are you saying? Are you saying that our son is

going to have mental problems?

Mrs. Ramos let out a sob.

Not necessarily, the doctor replied dryly.

Well, is there anything we can do? Mr. Ramos asked, his voice getting louder.

No. Take him home. Let him rest. Bring him back in a few days if hes acting funny.

The doctor removed his latex gloves with a loudsmack. But, of course, theres only so much we

can do at a free clinic.

So the Ramos went home with their son and a bottle of painkillers.


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On the morning that followed the accident, however, the Ramoss knew that there was

something wrong. Sam was sitting placidly atop the kitchen table when his parents came in for

breakfast.

Sammy, qu estas haciendo? Mr. Ramos said with a laugh. Get down from there.

Pap! exclaimed Sam, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. What are you doing

here? How do you do that? He pointed at his parents slippered feet.

Mrs. Ramos picked her son up off of the table and kissed him on the nose.

What are you talking about, Sam? Whats wrong?

Were floating, were floating! he replied, giggling furiously. On the water! he added,

seeing his parents looks of confusion. He pointed at the tiled floor for further effect. Mr. and

Mrs. Ramos exchanged worried looks, their fear and dread growing with every second. Sam was

an intelligent young boy, with what his kindergarten teacher called a very healthy imagination,

but he was not one to create stories out of thin air. And that far away look in his chocolate eyes

Something was wrong.

What is it, Sammy? Mrs. Ramos asked, real panic in her voice. Is this a game? Are

you pretending?

The little boy shook his head. He looked at his mother as though maybeshe was the one

playing games.

Well, what is it? Mrs. Ramos cried. Is this a dream?

At this, the boy grew very quiet. He looked down at the ground.


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Dream? he said, in a small voice. His mouth turned down in a frown and he buried his

face in his mothers neck.

Mr. and Mrs. Ramos only brought their son to see the doctors a handful of times before

they decided that nothing medical was going to help him. None of them were able to classify

Sams condition. It was, as the third doctor put it, a wonderfully unique disorder. Some of the

doctors suggested sleep therapy, while others suggested hypnosis and still others suggested

radical practices such as electrotherapy and brain exploration surgery. It was the first doctor from

the Good Samaritan Medical Clinic, however, that the Ramos finally sided with.

In reality, Sams condition is not so bad. Mr. Ramos, Mrs. Ramos and Dr. Hanley (of

the Good Samaritan) sat on the examining table and watched Sam run around the small room and

then stop, finally, to have an animated conversation with the curtains.

Its not so bad, Dr. Hanley continued. Ive diagnosed a lot of people with brain

disorders. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Clinical

Depressioneven Schizophrenia. Even after theyre diagnosed, things dont always get better.

So, the Ramoss adjusted as best as they could. They child-proofed their home more

drastically than any of the other parents on the block. But even then, every once in a while Sam

would dream up something completely unexpected, and more measures had to be taken. When

he was six, Sam, thinking that he was in a dream where his house was built on a thirsty desert

plain, went into the bathroom and turned on all the faucets. The following week, Mr. and Mrs.

Ramos installed floor drains in almost every room of their house. Barely a year later, Sam

thought that the kitchen knives were rotting carrots that could be disposed of in the microwave.


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From then on, Mrs. Ramos would only allow plastic cutlery in the house. By that time, however,

Mr. Ramos was no longer around to complain about the plastic knives being too flimsy to cut his

medium-well to well-done steak.

Sam, for one, was happy. His state of mind had settled into an odd mixture of reality and

imagination. He would go to sleep and dream of dragons, adventures, made-up creaturesAnd

he would wake up and see a leprechaun greeting him at the foot of the bed. When Sam began

walking to school by himself at the age of twelve, he would marvel at the way the leaves

changed colors when he touched them. He waved at all of the creatures that greeted him, some

real, some imagined. He was a very curious boy, and his mind always found ways to entertain

him.

Things grew easier for Sams mother, as well. Mrs. Ramos worked full time at a hair

salon, but Sam was the center of her life. She, of course, understood his condition better than

anyone else. In fact, she grew so used to Sams peculiarity that she really couldnt imagine him

any other way. As long as he was safe, she didnt see anything wrong with him.

Because his mother usually didnt arrive home until late at night, Sam spent most of his

time alone or with his cousins. When they were younger, he and his cousins would go to their

grandmothers house after school. She would feed the children cookies and sandwiches, and sit

in the living room while they ran around the house. By the time Sam was fifteen, however, there

was a general consensus that the boys were old enough to fend for themselves. So they would all

go to one of their empty houses, or the park, or the mall and hang out. Hanging out usually

consisted of playing video games, smoking various things, playing guitar, eating and making fun

of Sam.


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Sammy Sam, Tony barked. why dont you go get us some food? Sam and his cousins

had just survived the first day of schoolSams second first day at Anaheim Union High School.

Okay, Sam agreed pleasantly. What do you guys want?

Whatever Chinese shit your mom has lyin around. Tony was a senior in high school,

and the oldest of the Ramos cousins. There was nothing he found more entertaining than teasing

Sam about his Japanese mother. Sam slid off the couch and went into the kitchen to see what

kind of Chinese shit his mom had lying around. He found some Oriental flavor Ramen noodles

in the pantry and decided that they would do. He took a large pot, put it in the sink and turned on

the faucet, smiling as he watched the stream of water instantly turn to ice as it hit the bottom of

the pot. Shards of ice bounced joyously out of the pot and onto the kitchen counter. Sam turned

off the faucet and opened the cupboard to get some bowls.

What are you doing? Sams cousin Rafael asked, appearing in the doorway. Sam was

leaning on the kitchen counter, about to hoist himself up.

Rafie! Come here! Sam whispered excitedly, gesturing for his cousin to join him by the

cupboard. Theres a tiny panda in the cupboard!

Sam, Rafael said exasperatedly. Would you come down from there? Youre just

imagining it again.

Okay, Sam said distractedly, without moving. He continued to stare into the darkened

cupboard with a look of serene joy on his face. Rafael sighed and climbed up on the counter with

his cousin.

So, what do you see in there? Rafael asked.


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A little baby panda, Sam said quietly, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth, staring at

a landscape only he could see. Sam was really only partially aware that Rafael was there with

him. It wasnt that Sam intentionally ignored his cousin; it was just in his forgetful, preoccupied

nature to focus more on the fantastical happenings around him than the mundane ones. In fact, if

Sam could be bothered to stop and consider the idea of friendship, he would probably realize that

Rafael was his only real friend. Sure, Rafael was only thirteen, two years younger than Sam, but

he didnt mind Sams weird and zealous personality. When they were alone, Sam would immerse

himself in his own imaginary world, and Rafael would inquire about the scenery and the animals

in Sams dream world.

What are you little fags doing? Tony boomed, entering the kitchen with the others,

Daniel and Nacho. That aint food, Sam, he said, pointing at Rafael. Thats just fat.

Rafael blushed and started to defend himself, but Sam hushed them all. He innocently

explained about the baby panda living in his cupboard.

Aw, youre such a baby, Sammy, Tony said, slapping his cheeks lightly. The boys

laughed and all proceeded to pinch and pull at Sams pink cheeks. Sam laughed nervously, like

he always did when he didnt really understand what everyone else was laughing at. His dark

brown curls bounced around as he tried to pull his face away.

What a silly, silly boy! Tony said, finally releasing Sam with one last squeeze of the

cheeks.

What an idiot is more like it, little Nacho joked, socking Sam lightly in the stomach.

He cant even make food for himself, and hes supposed to feed all of us?


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Why dont you all just go to Carls? Rafael inserted hotly. Hes not your slave.

Yeah, hes right. Nacho, said Tony. You make us some food instead.

What! Nacho stopped punching Sam and stared at Tony with a look of betrayal. No

way, man. Get the village idiot to do it.

Why dont you show some respect? Tony said. He spoke in a light tone, but they all

knew he was being serious. There was silence.

Oh, alright, Nacho grumbled finally, unable to meet Tonys glare. Tony and Daniel sat

at the old kitchen table and talked about school and girls, while Nacho and Rafael boiled the pot

of water, and Sam sat on the counter watching the cupboard, dreaming about pandas.

Barely a week passed before Tony started bringing a girl around to their houses after

school. Her name was Madelynn, and she was a sophomore.

I know you, Madelynn accused Sam.

Iyou do? Sam stuttered. Outside of his family, nobody ever addressed him

personally.

Mrs. Ramos, your son needs to brush his teeth. He has cavities.

Daniel, your cousin needs to pay attention to the lecture. Hes failing.

Rafael, your friend dropped his book on the floor. Hes an idiot.


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Sam tried desperately to pay attention to what the girl was saying. He found it difficult to

ignore the butterflies that were flying around her face and body. One was perched on her

shoulder, and another was tucked neatly behind her ear, bright and beautiful against her dark hair.

Yeah. Youre in my Language Arts class.

Iyeah, Sam said nervously as his cousins giggled. He tried not to stare at Madelynns

ear. Obviously, he had no idea who she was. In fact, besides his cousins, Sam didnt know or

remember anyone from school. He didnt even know his teachers, and often had to be escorted to

class by Daniel, who was also in 10 th grade at Anaheim Union.

What do you think of Mr. Robinson? Madelynn plugged away. I think hes a nasty old

pervert.

Yeahme too, Sam said meekly. The conversation dragged on horribly until Sam

finally had to excuse himself to use the restroom, where he stayed for the remainder of the

afternoon. He ran a bath and got into the tub. He left the faucet on, staring at the sparkly green

water as it overflowed the tub and coated the floor, swirling around the drain that his father had

installed in the floor years ago.

Sam couldnt avoid Madelynn forever. In fact, he never could seem to avoid her. Besides

their regular encounters after school with Tony and the guys, they also had biweekly meetings in

Language Arts class. On the day that followed their disastrous first conversation, Madelynn,

pointing at the permanently empty seat next to Sam, asked if she could sit down.

Yeah, I meanyeah, but theres a turtle there, Sam stuttered incomprehensibly.


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A what? Madelynn asked, crinkling her nose as she giggled.

Well, yeah, thereswell, I mean yeah, go ahead, Sam said, shrugging his shoulders

and nodding his head vigorously, while willing the little blue turtle to crawl away.

She sat down. And every class after that, she sat in the same spot. She always made

conversation with Sam, either oblivious to his discomfort or taking some strange pleasure out of

it. Sometimes Sam wished that she would leave him alone so he could relax and enjoy his own

beautiful dreams, as was his custom, but other times he felt a strange urge to focus all of his

attention on this one, curious girl.

Lets be partners, okay? Madelynn told Sam after class a few weeks later.

Huh? he was sitting by himself on his favorite bench in front of the school, waiting for

Tony and the guys to meet him. What partners?

For the Language Arts project. The Create a World project.

Oh, Sam said. Okay. Sam had no idea what she was talking about, of course. He sat

back against the bench and leaned his head back as far as it would go. He wanted to watch the

clouds zooming around in the sky. Some soared way above the trees, impossibly far away, while

others dipped low and brushed the tops of childrens heads.

Well, Im going to go now. Madelynns voice interrupted Sams dreams. He had

forgotten she was there. Ill see you, Sam.


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Yeah, Sam said absentmindedly. He felt an uncomfortable tug as he watched Madelynn

amble down the street by herself. He almost got up to follow her. But, oh! Just look. There was a

Technicolor rainbow, and a Technicolor Doberman. There was a Technicolor everything.

Im going out tonight, Mam, Sam announced on Friday night, as he bit into his

hamburger. Mrs. Ramos laughed.

Going out, huh? she said. Is Tony picking you up?

No. Tonys not coming. Im going to a girls house to do a Language Arts project. Sam

pretended not to notice that his mother was giving him a strange look. Can you drive me there?

Well, dont you want to ride your bike?

Im not allowed to ride my bike at night. Remember? Now it was Sams turn to give his

mother an odd look. After all, it was his mother who had almost had a heart attack when Sam

came home from Rafaels house one night, oblivious to the bloody scrapes all over his arms and

legs. He had ridden through a clump of thorn bushes, believing that he was in a jungle.

Yes, of course, Mrs. Ramos said after a pause. Of course Ill drive you. Another

pause. Tell me about this girl.

Sam chewed his burger and thought. Shes likeShe he tried several times, but

couldnt articulate the image of Madelynn in his minds eye. Shes like you, Mam.

Mrs. Ramos laughed. Hows that? She asked him if Madelynn was Japanese.


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Sam shook his head. She always wants to know what Im doing. She likes to worry

about what Im thinking. She talks a lot. Sam thought he felt the room get smaller. He gripped

his chair. He glanced at his mother. She looked almost transparent, or blue. Glassy. Wavering. He

asked her what was the matter.

I think youre growing up, Sammy, she said, kissing his cheek.

Oh, Sam responded dully. He had no idea what she was talking about.

I dont get it, Sam said for the hundredth time, feeling stupid. He and Madelynn were

sitting on the floor of her bedroom. She had a notebook out and was trying to explain the

directions of the Create a World project.

All we have to do is make up a world thats different from ours, Madelynn explained

again. We can do anything we want. An alien planet.

Sam reread Mr. Robinsons instructions. He felt as though he were reading an alien script.

He just couldnt understand. How was he supposed to create a new world? What was wrong with

the current one? He had everything he could want. He could imagine anything he wanted. What

else was there? He was silent.

Okay, for example, Madelynn tried again. We could pretend that the sky is pink.

Sometimes it is, Sam said slowly. Madelynn laughed.


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Not everyone gets to see it like that. They were both quiet for a while. How about you

just describe something beautiful that youve seen, and Ill write it down. Your world can

become our new world.

Sam, dubious at first, went ahead and described his walk home from school that

afternoon. The grass was very tall and bright that day. The sun was redder than usual. There were

polka-dots on the sidewalk that duplicated themselves whenever he stepped on them.

And the butterflies.

Butterflies? Madelynn asked curiously. Tell me about the butterflies.

He smiled shyly. The butterflies follow you wherever you go. I think theyre pieces of

your soul.

Madelynn stared. And then she smiled and squeezed Sams skinny arm. I love

butterflies.

Ime too. Sam sat stiffly, feeling like his arm was buzzing with the activity of a

million bumble bees. He didnt want to swat them away.

Madelynn leaned towards him. He just knew that something was about to happen. She

leaned, leaned, leaned, closer and closer. The buzzing of the bees was positively earsplitting. It

was the most wonderful noise he had ever heard. His eyes grew wide, the floor fell away, the

lamp burned brighter, the door, the poster, her stuffed animals, her bed, her lips

The doorbell.


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Thats probably my mom, Sam said and straightened up. The buzzing sounds and the

funny feelings were gone. Sam shook his head and his thoughts cleared like mist from a mirror.

He got up. I guess well have to finish this later.

I guess, Madelynn said. She did not get up from the floor. She had a strange expression

on her face.

Are you angry at me? Sam asked tentatively, stirred by the way her eyes grew small

and purple when she was upset, and the angle in which her body slumped, and her outstretched

right legan angry exclamation point.

I just wish you would

Wait, do you hear that? Sam interrupted. Someone had opened the front door, and a

familiar voice drifted down the hallway. Its Tony!

Sam immediately turned and walked out of the room, leaving the poster and the girl.

What are you doing here, Tony? Sam asked his cousin with a surprised smile.

Your mom went out, Sam. She asked me to come get you. Tony looked dark and

serious. Go sit in the car for a second.

Sam hesitated.

Go.

He went outside and shut the front door behind himself. He looked at Tonys old Jeep

parked in the driveway, but sat down on the doorstep. Without really knowing why, Sam put his

ear against the hard, cold door and listened.


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What are you doing with my little cousin? Tony said.

Would you stop calling him that?

Why should I? Thats what he is. Hes my little cousin. Now what do you think youre

doing with him?

You act like hes such a little boy, but hes not! Hes my age, Tony. You need to stop

treating him like hes a baby or a retard, because hes not.

Dont you tell me that! I know that! But what the hell do you know about it, bitch? Why

are you messing with him like that? Why are you messing with me like that?

Hes sweet. And hes honest.

Madelynn, I love you.

Sam pulled away from the door, a panicked feeling in his chest. The sidewalk lit up neon

green like an arrow pointing toward Tonys car. Sam leapt up, got in the passenger seat and

waited for his cousin to return.

The car ride was uncomfortable and quiet. Tony did not want to listen to the radio.

Are you mad at me? Sam asked for the second time that night.

Tony was silent for a minute. And then, Yes.

Oh. Sam couldnt really remember the last time that Tony had been angry with him.

Mean, taunting and even annoyed, but not angry. Im sorry Tony. Im not sure what Ive done.


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He saw Tonys jaw twitch. They approached a red light and rolled to a stop. Suddenly,

Tony jammed on the parking break and turned to face his younger cousin with angry eyes.

What are you doing with my girlfriend?

Sam stared. Tonys eyes never looked so big, or his skin so dark, or his eyebrows so

thick. What?

Dont act so innocent! Tony roared, slamming his fist on the steering wheel. Youre

fifteen years old! Do you like my girl? Tell me!

I dont know what youre talking about, Sam said meekly, sinking down in his seat.

Tell me! Tony demanded, louder. His eyes were huge and on fire. The redness spread to

his cheeks and ears and up, travelling through his hair, from the roots up to the tips. Tell me, tell

me!

Please stop! Sam moaned, sweating.

Just tell me you dont like her! It was a monster with Tonys eyes. Its teeth were sharp

like fangs, and its chest hard as rock. Sam could feel the burning heat. Tell me, you son of a

bitch!

Please, Tony, stop! he shrieked. Stop, stop, fucking stop!

Nobody spoke after that. Tony blinked, took off the brakes and sped off, ignoring the red

light. Sam turned his face towards the window. He thought he was going to cry, but he didnt. He

scoured the streets with his sad eyes, trying to conjure up some friendly faces, but for once,

reality got in the way.


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* * *

Madelynn didnt come around with Tony anymore. The only time Sam saw her was in

Language Arts class. They didnt talk much. At the back of his mind, he felt a very strange

feelinglonging. He missed her. But those feelings were all but subconscious. Sam carried on

with the pandas and brilliant colors and red hot suns of his life, and didnt quite realize that

something was gone.

Sam went to Tonys house one Saturday night to pick up a notebook that he had left there

during the week. The front door was unlocked as usual, and Sam walked in. The house was dark,

and no one seemed to be around. Sam picked his notebook up off of the coffee table. He turned

to leave, but something stopped him. There were interesting patterns on the floor.

Am I dreaming? Sam thought to himself, puzzled. He didnt like to ask himself this

question, but the house was deserted and he felt scared. Sam hesitated a second longer before

following the odd, twisting pattern down the hall and into Tonys room. He pushed the door open

and found Tony and some older guys sprawled on the ground, smoking pot.

Hi, Sam said. He turned around to leave. Tony had a rule about letting Sam smokehe

wouldnt. That had always been fine with Sam, because he never really understood what

marijuana was supposed to do, anyway.

Sam, come back, Madelynns voice called to him from inside the room. Sam felt a

churning sensation in his stomach, as though something was trying to get out. He opened his

mouth and three beautiful butterflies fluttered out.

Oh, hi, he said. How are you?


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Really good, she answered, smiling. She handed him a fat, white cigarette that he knew

was a blunt. Take a hit.

Sam looked at Tony, who shrugged. Tony had been acting strange toward him since their

argument. He had not teased him. He had not called him a baby. Do what you want, man.

Sam stood shakily on Tonys bed, crying and screaming. Everything seemed slow.

Everything seemed horrible. He could see all of the creatures from his dreams, but they produced

a sickening fear in him that he had never felt before. The turtle from Language Arts class was

crawling upside-down on the ceiling, calling Sams name. There were circular drains lining the

walls of Tonys bedroom. They stretched and contracted, opened and closed, like hungry,

carnivorous mouths.

Im calling the hospital, Sammy, dont worry! Tony shouted over Sams hysterical

cries. Everyone had fled the house, except for Tony and Madelynn. Madelynn was trying to get

Sam to come down from the bed. She pulled on his hand, but he wouldnt jump.

Theres a pool of pandas down there, Sam wailed, pointing at the floor.

Yes, pandas! Madelynn agreed.You love pandas!

But Sam didnt like this. Everything that was usually beautiful was hideous. He wanted to

scream. Where had his world gone? Suddenly, Madelynn yanked on Sams hand and he fell off

the bed, into the massive pool of baby pandas. Sam screamed in earnest and ran out of the house.

Where am I? Where am I? Sam wondered out loud. Where have I gone? Where has

everything gone?


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He thought he heard something down the road. There was the unmistakable grumble of

an engine.

Maybe they can help me, he thought. He ran across the street as fast as his pulsating

head would allow. And then, curiously enough, he thought he heard a song. Was it the

Entertainer?

He jumped out into the street. He turned around. The ambulance hit him head-on, and he

felt the oddly familiar sensation of flying.

Months later, he and Madelynn lay on the floor in her bedroom and stared up at the blank

ceiling. Sam picked up her hand and counted the number of tiles in the ceiling with her soft, tiny

index finger.

Sam, she said.

What? he answered.

Which one was better? The first one or the second one?

I dont know. He sat up and stared at her. He marveled that he could make out all the

freckles on her cheeks and the dark brown of her eyes; that he could tell her exactly how he felt,

and she would understand. He loved looking at her, talking to her and being with her. He loved

being able to share things with her. There were no distractions now.

But there were no butterflies, either.

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Keep Dreaming Edit 1