April 20, 1997 Sunday
Last night at the Hub I had a lot of time on my hands. It was past 11:00, and Sidney hadn’t called. I knew she was fine, of course. I think what started as a hint of this, “I wonder if she’s back yet from track” morphed into some reason, when sleeping, why she might have been late coming home. This quick thought of “I hope she gets home alright” was twisted and deformed last night as I slumbered, into one of the worst dreams I’ve ever had.
In my dream I was at the Hub, waiting for Sidney’s call. It was three o’clock in the morning, but she still hadn’t rung. Hoke wanted to get home, so we left and began the drive to Elmwood from Edelstein. As we were driving through tiny, rural Edelstein, the dream suddenly changed, and we now found ourselves in Elmwood. Hoke dropped me off, and I walked tiredly into the house. As I entered the dining room Mom was by the phone, and she didn’t look like she had anything good to tell me. I asked her what was the matter. Mom said that Sidney had been in an accident on Route 8 on the way home from her track meet. I stood there and listened to her and she told me Sidney was in critical condition at St. Francis in Peoria.
I quickly went to the car and drove to Peoria. At one time I looked down and I was going over 250 mph. I finally got to the hospital, but St. Francis was more like a small clinic than an actual hospital. I ran inside and went down a long hall. At the end of the passage I burst through the door. Inside, Sidney was hooked up to everything but the Internet. By her appearance she actually didn’t look like she had been in an accident.
The doctor told me she was in a coma. I saw down and waited.
That was a terrible dream.
No One Will Believe You 