27
GOLDIE
How long have I been drifting in a place between reality and dreamland?
Voices. Men’s voices.
The crunch of gravel.
The whirr of an engine.
Smells, too. It’s musty where I am. Stale and unclean.
Darkness. It’s a bubble around me, and I feel safe here. Safe from knowing what’s happening to me and what will happen when I awake.
There’s no sense of time, only a fluttering sense of unreality.
I am, but I’m not—a person who exists but doesn’t.
Bears.
I see a flash of them in my mind. Warm, furry coats, and raw power. Angry faces and fierce jaws. Paws that can slash and crush. Beings of strength and fear. Of solidness and protection.
They’re not the sweet bears of my mom’s dreams and my imaginings.
In this dream state, I’m uncertain of everything.
Snarling.
Snarling and growling.
I’m nudged and shoved. Limbs that don’t feel tangible ache with real pain that’s dulled by that sweet, sweet smell.
A loud snarl shatters my peace—more loud snarls. I try to force my eyes open, but I can’t. My body is a phantom. I have no control.
Strong hands under me.
Arms around me.
I’m drifting.
How long have I existed in this space between reality and dreamland?