Sight to See ~ Chapter 2 Dreams in the Night

To this day I remember that night in painfully, vivid detail.

It began and ended with electricity. There was electricity in the air. Something was just not right. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was in the kitchen and everything seemed normal. It was the same old house I’d always lived in; always, all eight years of my life to that point. And yet it didn’t feel right. There was something foreign about the kitchen that day.

I crossed to the sink as if in slow motion and looked out the window. Even the sky looked strange. It was blue to my left but to the right I could see the boiling, charcoal colored clouds that tell of a coming storm. It was still early and everything was quiet.

I usually enjoyed a good thunder storm in the summertime. Sometimes Mom would let me sit out on the porch and watch it sweep across the fields, drenching the crops on its way. I loved to watch it roll through and think about how even though it was loud and a little scary it was part of the cycle that made the soy beans in our fields grow strong and green. The winds of the storm may have made the little heads of the plants bow and duck for cover, but when it passed they drank up the water and reached their heads back up to the sun stronger than they were before.

My Dad taught me how to read the sky. He’d learned to know when trouble was coming or when it was going to be a good harvest. He taught me to love the power of nature but to respect that power too. He loved that land. I couldn’t imagine him ever leaving it. At the time I couldn’t imagine ever leaving it either. And after that night it took a long time before I felt I could leave.

That day though, there was no sign of Dad or Mom, just this strange quiet that made me uneasy. I stepped out onto the creaky, tired boards of the porch and looked out across the fields to the clouds. It looked like they were getting ready to break open. I could see the lightning, and the thunder followed close on its heels. One fork of lightning streaked out across the sky towards me. It was closer than I thought. Suddenly the hair was up on the back of my neck again. I stood frozen to the floor of the porch.

Finally, I noticed Dad out in the middle of the western field on the tractor. He had his back to the storm. I tried to scream, to run, to signal him, to do something, anything to warn him, but I could do nothing. Nothing but watch. The thunder clouds seemed to grow taller and taller right above his head as if they were there for only one purpose. I stood helpless and watched with dread.

Something finally caught his attention and he looked up, but it was too late. A hand of fire reached down from the angry clouds and struck him down. His body was thrown to the ground behind the tractor so I could no longer see him, but I knew he was dead. Finally I found my voice and screamed with all my might. There was the sound of another scream, maybe just an echo, that rang out nearby but I couldn’t see its source. All I could see was the image in my mind of my father lying beside the tractor. All I could do was to stand there and scream, “Daddy. Daddy.” And that’s what I did over and over.

Even now it seems real and not a dream, but I woke to find myself still screaming, Daddy, as I sat up in bed. Sweat and tears mingled on my cheeks as I shrieked his name with every ounce of my scrawny body. My sister, Kate, looked at me bleary eyed and scared from her bed across the room. I couldn’t stop screaming. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I was terrified. I heard footsteps coming down the hall. My father burst into the room looking petrified.

“What? What is it Dawn? What happened?” He raced to my bedside and I could tell that the crazed look on my face did little to calm him down. He looked to my sister who was by then clinging tightly to her favorite teddy bear, Bucky. He put his hands on my shoulders trying to reach me. Over his shoulder I saw Mom come into the room too.

I just kept screaming, Daddy, which seemed to be unnerving for him. He put his hands on my face and held me still. I remember that his hands were rough and warm and real and I was confused by the pulse I felt flowing through them. He looked me right in the eye and said, “Dawn, I’m right here honey. Everything is ok. I’m right here.” Then he moved closer and scooped me up in his strong, Daddy can make everything ok, arms and held me close to him. In my confusion I resisted a little at first but he cradled me tightly to his chest.

Reassurance finally came in the sound of his heartbeat. I could hear it beating steadily through his t-shirt. It proved too much for me and I started to cry. Not crying so much as uncontrollably sobbing; like the time when my pedal broke off my bike and I dragged my knee on the ground for what seemed like blocks. Only this time they were not tears of pain.

I could hardly breathe. I knew they didn’t understand my crying by the looks on their faces, but I knew what it was. It was joy. I was crying for the sheer joy of hearing his heartbeat. He was not dead. I had been certain he was. It was so real. I was sure it wasn’t a dream, but it must have been because there he was. I could smell him and touch him. He was alive. I’d never been so happy in all my life, not Christmas, not the first day of summer, not my birthday, nothing could compare to how happy I felt at that moment.

He just held me and let me cry it out. He didn’t try to quiz me or fix what was wrong, he just made me feel safe and waited patiently for me to finish. I finally stopped crying enough to look up at his face. I noticed how different it was from mine. His skin was darkened from all the time in the sun, not like mine that was naturally dark because of the native blood in my veins. His hair was short and looked like the sun shone right out of it. Sometimes when we were outside I would squint up at him and imagine he was the sun, the center of the universe. I always wished I had gotten his blond hair, and his eyes. Not a boring brown like mine. His were sort of gray and sort of blue. They changed like the sky does. Then the memory of the stormy sky came flooding back and I gasped and spoke without thinking first, “But you, you’re dead!”

I could see he was shocked but he tried not to show it. “What are you talking about honey? I’m right here and very much alive. You just had a bad dream puddin’ that’s all.” My eyes filled up with tears at the sound of his old nickname for me; he hadn’t called me that since I was little.

“A dream? But it seemed so real. You were in the field and there was a storm…” I started to breath harder, again on the verge of sobs.

Mom, who had been standing quietly by the door came and stood beside us. She took my hand in hers and placed it over Dad’s heart. Again I could feel the rhythm of it beating. He looked up at her and their eyes met in warmth and love. That love reflected on me when she turned her gaze back towards me. “Do you feel that?” I nodded. “That’s Daddy’s heart. If you listen you can hear the song it’s playing. Can you hear it?” I sat very still and listened with all my might. For just a moment I thought I could hear a distant song. “Do you recognize the song?” I shook my head no, disappointed that I couldn’t make it out because I was always so good at Name That Tune. “It’s called Daddy’s Song and it has so many verses that it goes on and on and on. All the verses haven’t even been written yet. I don’t know if it will ever end.”

He was in awe of her beautiful, calming words and they inspired him. “See, so you don’t have to worry puddin’. My heart is beating strong and you will always be able to hear the echo of it in here.” He placed his hand over my heart. For an instant I had the strange sensation of our hearts actually beating in time with each other, like we were the only two people in the world.

The touch of my mother’s hand as she caressed my cheek surprised me. I looked up at her and saw the tears glistening in her eyes in the moonlight. It was almost like looking in a mirror in that light, same dark eyes and hair and skin. Her hair was much longer than mine though, but she said I could let it grow out after I turned 10 and could take better care of it myself, which I did and I’ve kept it long ever since.

She turned her face to Dad and a look passed between them. I couldn’t identify it but I could feel that it was something good. She kissed me on the head and pressed her cheek to mine for a minute.

“I will sit with her for a couple minutes,” he said to her, “Until she gets back to sleep.”

She smiled affectionately at him and kissed him. Then she turned toward Kate and tucked her and Bucky back in. She paused at the door and looked back at me. I couldn’t make sense of the expression on her face. It seemed there was something dark there or worried. Maybe it was just the shadows of the night because she smiled and went back down the hallway.

I lay back on my soft pillow exhausted. The last thing I saw was the pale blue of my father’s eyes reflecting the moonlight. There was no storm in them.

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I lay awake sweating. It was the kind of night where if you moved even a little bit, tiny drops of water would form and roll slowly down your skin. I kind of liked laying there and feeling them tickle my skin. As another drop made its way from behind my ear to my pillow I tried to imagine what the third grade was going to be like. It seemed very important. I felt much more grown up than I did the year before. Mom still treated me like her little baby though. I hoped she wouldn’t get all sappy on the first day of school again. It was so embarrassing.

I wondered if Kate was awake. I could ask her what third grade would be like. I was going to have Mrs. Killen just like she did. I knew she’d be mad if I woke her up, but school was starting the next week, I needed to know. “Hey Kate. Hey are you awake.” I could hear her breathing and it didn’t sound like she was asleep. It sounded like she was trying to pretend to be asleep. “I know you’re not sleeping. I want to ask you something.” An unknown stuffed animal came hurtling across the room in the dark and hit me right in the face. “Ow!”

I heard her laughing into her pillow. I threw the animal, which I could then identify as a cat, back in her direction. It smacked with a thud into the wall over her head and we both were immediately silent, listening to see if Mom and Dad had heard us. The night was quiet except for the unending chorus of the millions of crickets that lived on the farm with us.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble. Now leave me alone and go to sleep.”

“But I wanna know what Mrs. Killen is like. Is she nice?”

“No, she’s evil. If you are bad she makes you stand in the closet all day and you only get paste for lunch.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies.” I had tried to sound certain but there was a part of me that imagined eating paste for lunch. “Come on Kate. If you tell me I’ll leave you alone.”

She moaned loudly, exasperated with me, but she knew I would just keep bugging her until she told me something. “She’s very nice. Now go to sleep.”

“Details. I need details!”

“You are such a pain!” She called me a pain all the time when we were little, but she still stuck up for me the year before when two girls from town called me a hick.

She paused and I could tell she was trying to decide whether to ignore me or tell me something just to shut me up. “Just a couple details and I’ll be quiet. I promise.”

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Ok, ok. She is tough with the rules. You don’t want to be interrupting her. She is quick to send people to see Mr. James if they are not respectful. But if you don’t cause a lot of trouble she is really nice. She has a treat box that you can win prizes from. And she’s really good at reading stories. I used to love it when she would read to us.” She stopped as if remembering something. “There is that enough? Now go to sleep.”

“Kate.”

“You promised!”

“I was just gonna say thank you but never mind.” I rolled over and curled up in a ball.
There was silence for a minute and then she said softly, “You’re welcome.”

The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was the image of Mrs. Killen sitting in front of us on the story time carpet and reading.

That was my last moment of peace that night, at least that I remember. A storm broke during the night that had been brewing all day. Finally the clouds reached a boiling point and spilled over, right into my mind.

I ran out of the house, across the porch and down the steps, practically flying. The rain hadn’t started yet but the black clouds were building over the fields and the lightning was forking across the sky. I knew where I was going this time without having to look around for him. He was in the western field. I knew he would be. Maybe I would get there in time this time, though in my heart I knew I wouldn’t. A lump grew in my throat and prevented me from screaming. I ran as fast as I could but I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I couldn’t reach him. I couldn’t reach him. I felt like I was treading water. I couldn’t move forward no matter how hard I tried.

I was thrashing around in my bed, trying to get to him, trying to call to him. Why couldn’t he hear me?

“Dawn. Dawn. Wake up, Dawn.”

Kate was gently pushing my shoulder, trying to wake me. Then came a wall shaking crack of thunder. Kate jumped onto the bed with me and I bolted upright. I heard the rain lashing against the window pane which disoriented me because I had thought I was outside.

“What’s going on?”

Kate was sitting beside me and put her arm around me in a protective gesture. “You were dreaming.”

“I was?”

“Yes, you were thrashing around and…” She stopped.

I stared off towards the window. I didn’t have to ask her what she wasn’t saying. I was calling for Dad. I had thought I was safe. I had thought he was safe. I hadn’t had the dream again all summer.

“Was it about him again?”

I couldn’t look at her, I was so scared. “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad. Please.”

She wrapped her other arm around me and pulled me toward her. I started to cry. “Shhhh. It was just a dream. It’s ok. Shhhh.”

Through my sobs I asked her the question I dreaded. “What if it’s not just a dream?”

In her second of hesitation I knew she was as scared as I was. “Shhhh,” is all she said. I laid in her arms listening to her heart and the sound of the storm raging outside, and wondered if one of those streaks of lightning had my father’s name on it.

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I was at the kitchen sink washing out my cereal bowl. I hated having to do it every morning. I didn’t understand why we couldn’t just have a dishwasher like everyone else. The only thing that made it ok was that I got to play with the bubbles the soap made. They flew up into my face every time I blew on them and tickled my nose.

“Dawn. You are supposed to be cleaning up not making a bigger mess. Now hurry up because you still have your chores to do.”

“Ok Mama.” I peeked over my shoulder and as soon as she walked out of the room I blew one last time on the bubbles in the worn, porcelain sink. A large bubble floated up out of the sink, caught the early morning sunlight and turned it into rainbows of color. I was mesmerized by the bubble’s flight. My vision became blurred staring at the dancing colors and I couldn’t take my eyes from the distorted blues and blacks of the sky seen through the bubble. That’s when I noticed the hairs on the back of my neck were standing at attention. The bubble burst, spraying soap in my eyes. I grabbed desperately for the dish towel to wipe my face and turned quickly to find Mom. “Mama. Mama!”

She reentered the room looking harassed. “What is it now, Dawn?”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s out in the fields of course. Where else would he be? He wanted to get an early start today in case we get storms later.”

I turned back to the window and stood on my tiptoes to try to look out. The sky was blue to my left and charcoal to my right. My eyes widened and I felt sick. I echoed Mom’s words. “Storms?” My voice had a trancelike quality. Overcome by a sense of urgency I ran out into the back yard yelling as I went, “No. Daddy, no.”

Mom, alarmed now, chased out the door after me. She caught up to me in the backyard. There was no sign of Dad in the fields behind the house. She grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around. “What's going on Dawn?”

Thunder cracked in the distance from beyond the house. My eyes widened in horror. I wriggled from her grasp and ran around the side of the house screaming for Daddy with Mom chasing me.
I leaped up onto the front porch to get a better view of the fields and was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. Only this was no dream. It was a nightmare. I scanned the distance for him, but I knew where I would find him. Mom stood beside me catching her breath but looking too. She spotted him off to the left, in the western field, about a quarter of a mile away. She looked to the darkening clouds in the distance then down at me. Our eyes met. “Run!” She pushed me toward the steps and turned and ran into the house.

I flew down the steps of the porch two at a time and took off across the field through the bean plants growing there. I screamed to him but he didn’t hear me over the sound of the tractor. Behind me, Mom had reemerged from the house and was running after me.

I was only about fifty feet from him when he finally saw me. I was completely out of breath from running and screaming and flailing my arms. He stopped the tractor and stood up to wave. Panting, I pointed up at the sky but I was seconds too late. I watched in slow motion, all sound distorted, as he turned in the direction of the storm and his expression changed instantly to fear. He looked back at me with a look that haunts me to this day and at that same moment the air was filled with electricity and a bolt of light shot from the sky directly at him. It looked just like a hand of fire.

The force of the direct hit of the lightning threw him backward off the tractor. The impact of the lightning strike so nearby knocked me off my feet too. On my hands and knees I spit dirt from my mouth and looked up to the tractor. There was smoke rising from it, but Daddy was nowhere to be seen. The world around me seemed to suddenly return to normal speed and I could hear Mom’s screams close behind me. I pulled myself off the ground and ran around the tractor. I came to a complete standstill, frozen, looking down at my father. Mom nearly knocked me down as she appeared around the side of the tractor.

She was amazingly calm as she dropped down beside her husband. She listened for his breath and felt for a pulse. Her motions seemed blurred and all the color was gone from the fields. Her words came to me as if from underwater, “He’s alive. Dawn, its ok, he’s alive.”

There was a siren in the distance whose call sounded garbled too. Mom was still talking to me, “Dawn? Are you ok Dawn?” She got quickly to her feet and took my face in her hands. Her voice was tight with fear. “Dawn, answer me. Are you ok?”

“I, I’m fine I think,” the words came out garbled and thick but she seemed to understand.

“Good. Now I need you to run to the house and show the rescue squad where we are. Now! Run quickly.”

I turned to leave finally comprehending what was going on but turned back to her just as she sank back down beside Dad. “Mom, how come the rescue squad is here already? When did you call them? How did you know?”

Our eyes met again and she smiled weakly but reassuringly. “I called while you were running out here. I did it because there was just something in your eyes that told me I should. You knew it. You saw it. I think it may save your father’s life too. Now go get them quickly.”

I knew it? I saw it? I didn’t understand what she meant but it was not the time for discussion. I sprinted around the tractor screaming as I went, carrying with me the memory of my Dad being thrown to the ground by the might of the storm. I carry that memory with me still.