Dreaming of Jim Pt. 4 Final

Jim’s intense shaking was just as frightening as the gunshots. None of us tried to get near him, he was like a wounded animal, utterly dangerous. I asked him to tell us what was wrong, and if he was alright. He just cursed at us and warned us to stay away. So i told Jim that we would if he would only tell us what was going on with him. He just let out an anguished scream and fell to his knees, he crept to our corner and rocked himself against the wall.

The next few hours were silent. I could do nothing to help him. All i could do was sit against the door and watch him rock back and forth, never stopping, never changing pace, and never loosening his tense muscles. Just rocking….rocking….

I fell asleep for a bit, at least i believed so since the dream kinda fast forward a little bit because it was now night time when i heard sobbing. It was the woman in red, she stopped breathing, and the gentleman was crying for her, and because he knew in his heart that we were never getting out of here. I went over and hugged him, i couldn’t say anything to comfort him. I helped him move the girl to the wall where the other bodies were, and he put his hankerchief over her face. Then he settled on the floor and fell to sleep immediately. I put his jacket over him and then Jim called me to him.

I went towards him, and he told me not to touch him, nor stand too close. I nodded and he pulled out an old wrinkled  paper bag from the pocket of his jeans. He pulled a little too hard because the bag ripped and its contents fell to the ground. There was a wallet, some folded pieces of paper, a thin wallet, an empty crushed carton of cigarettes, and some other little things i can’t remember.

Jim pointed to a small blue box that fell towards the center of the room, and he told me to pick it up and open it. I did as he said, and in the box was some bracelets, a little plastic case containing baby teeth, a lock of hair, and what looked like an eye glass cleaning cloth. I handed the box to him, confused at what he wanted me to do, and he told me to look in the cloth. I did, and i found what looked like a brass ring that had a little pearl.

I said it was beautiful, and i asked him who’s it was. He said it was his mother’s. I looked up at him, and he had this look in his eyes that was both of embarrassment, and hope. My heart stopped, "Are you saying what i think you’re saying?" I took a step towards him, and he backed and reminded me not to come close. I stepped back, and i noticed the pearl was a light shade of purple. I smiled and i cried, hard. My knees kind of gave way and i sat on the ground with the box still in my hands. I set it on the ground in front of me and fingered the ring.

He asked why i was crying, and i smiled a sad smile at him, and said, "We’re never going to grow old together," I took the ring in my right hand. "We’ll never have kids," i lifted my left hand.

"Never have our own wedding…." I put the ring on my finger. I looked at him, yearning to touch him. Then he gave me a curious look. "What is it?" I thought he was disgusted with the way my face turns really red and puffy when i cry. Then he gestured at my eyes and said, "You cry more from your left eye than you do with your right. Why is that?"

I thought that was an odd observation, and i didn’t know what to say, then i blurted, "I guess its been that way since i can remember….OH MY GOD IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME?" I exclaimed as i unconsciously threw my hands on my head. I suppose what i said was funny because he managed a little chuckle. He started to relax a little, and i was happy. Before i knew it, i fell asleep.

 

The next morning, the last day, came in a beautiful stream of sunlight from the window. I awoke to see Jim standing at the window, staring out at something, and i remember i didn’t feel so good. What with hardly any food for 4 days, i felt like i wanted to puke. The gentleman was pacing the room nervously, i could tell he was doing his best not to lose it. In the distance, i could hear soft cries and sobs. There wasn’t much of us left. I just sat and tried to sleep again, but the light wouldn’t allow me to.

Then we heard Jim gasp, and he made some sort of scratching noise. I asked him what he was doing, he didn’t respond. The gentleman looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. Then i saw puffs of dust rise from Jim, and then little beams of light bouncing off of something that was shiny. "Jim?" i asked, i was worried he’d hurt himself somehow, and what i saw when he turned around knocked the wind out of me. 

In his hands, was a gun.

There was a small hole on the sill of the window, and Jim saw a little shimmer of metal, and he was able to tear off the plaster and pull it out. The gentleman exclaimed that now we can defend ourselves, and at those words, Jim pointed the gun at him. He said no one was going to leave, not until he said so. I told him revenge wasn’t worth it. God knows how many bullets were in that gun, if any at all, and that we should be very careful not to waste a single one. 

I was scared of Jim at that moment, i was sure he had gone mad the moment he held that gun in his hand. I don’t know what was running through his mind. He still pointed the gun at us while pushing the sleeves of his shirt up, and i saw that the veins in his arms were dark. He was a drug addict. The bruises in the crease of his arms were unmistakable. And i understood now why he was sweating and shaking so much. His body was reaching its limit without whatever it was he was injecting into himself.

This wasn’t my Jim, this was something else completely. He never pointed the gun at me, but he wouldn’t put it down after we tried to reason with him. Then we heard heavy footsteps, and all of the doors were being opened. There were screams and shouts but no guns. I thought that was a good sign. When they opened our door, Jim hid the gun under his belt, and took my hand as the men shoved us out of the room, and back into the parlor where our host gathered us together.

He was there once more, along with whom i hink was 10 survivors from the other rooms. He was giving this stupid speech of congradulations for making it this far and other stupid things. None of us were sitting, just standing huddled together. I remember the host asked us a question, and none answered. There was another woman who fainted when we wouldn’t answer, and i hurried to catch her, but then one of the men with guns grabbed my hand and threw me to the floor alongside her.

The next few parts was so fast, but in slow motion. The man who threw me down pointed his gun at my face, and he was about to pull the trigger when all of a sudden, his head exploded. Jim had fired the first shot, and nobody saw it coming. The other men raised their weapons, and 3 were already shot down-Jim was too fast somehow. People screamed and ran in all different directions. More shots were fired, glass shattered. Bodies falling, blood and feathers flying.

I couldn’t move for what seemed like hours, and then i saw Jim reach down beside him and picked up a machine gun from the vest of the first man he killed. His eyes were black against the white, and wide. He was grinning. He didn’t look at me, he never took his eyes off any of the men, and he never said a word. He just kept shooting, he was like a Boondock Saint, the way he was calm and collected, insanity at its peak, almost godlike.

At this point, i couldn’t hear a single thing, all i tried to do was wake the woman who fell, but i soon realized it was no use. Because when i turned to look at her, there was blood pouring from her. I believed a stray bullet ended her, and i knew if i stayed where i was, i would get hit too, and that would be the end. So i looked around, and i saw the way to the entrance hall, and i rose and ran for it. 

The hall to the front door was white, and the pictures were crooked. There was a shattered mirror as well and a large broken vase. i was one step away from entering when from the corner of my eye, i saw Jim look in my direction after me, i turned and we looked at each other for an instant. I don’t know what he saw in me, but i saw in his eyes, that he didn’t want me to go. Then he raised his gun.

I turned and ran along the right side of the hall, and as i did, men came from the other end at me, and they were hit with bullets, and i was scared he was shooting at me too. I finally reached the front door, it was locked of course, and i looked around for something to use to break it down, and on my right, was another room. I couldn’t believe it, it was the exact same room as the one we were locked in, painted a rose pink, but the floor was wood, and it was clean and bear. There was a window, the only one i’ve seen that wasn’t tinted. I heard footsteps running towards me, and i thought, "fuck it," and i ran out the door, turned back, and booked it to the window. At this point in the dream, i remember everything was starting to fade into white spots in my eyes. i ran and i turned so my back would hit the glass, and it shattered. More white spots clouded my vision. I landed on the grass, and immediately sprang to my feet. 

My memory fades after that. I remember everything was blurry, and clouded. I remember running on a sidewalk towards the main street where i could see cars pass….or at least i thought i did. I honestly don’t know if i really left, or if indeed i was shot along with everyone else. I remember i was trying so hard to go back, wanting desperately to know what has become of Jim and everyone. If the man who started all of this hell was dead too.

I woke up.

I had this dream exactly 5 days ago. I still think about it. I refuse to forget it, for something about the whole ordeal continues to stay with me, and i wonder. That room was so familiar, and it wasn’t until 3 days ago that i realize that that room was the room i shared with my sister in my hometown in the house that we lost 2 years ago. We painted it rose pink. This thought continues to disturb me. If the room was real, then what else was? The people who were locked in with me? The man who put all of us through that fiasco?

Was Jim real? Was he out there somewhere thinking of me as i was of him? Did he perhaps had the same dream as i did? I want to think he is.

3 days ago, i found a plastic ring in my jewelry box. It was a clear acrylic ring with a rose design, but i can’t let go of it now, because the color of the rose, is the exact shade of purple as Jim’s pearl ring.

<span style="font-family: Arial Black;”>I want to believe that he is out there, and i want to believe that this dream had a reason, that my mind just didn’t come up with such a crazy story on it’s own.

Wishful thinking? Maybe. But if its so, my heart says otherwise. Nevertheless, if i never see him again, if he indeed doesn’t exist, he will in my memory. But if i ever do find Jim…. Then a whole new story will begin.

 

End.