“Hudson & Maine” by Johnny Guerra
Marquee lights flicker.
That’s the first thing to grab my attention. Flickering lights glow around the banner. Drew Barrymore is the headliner of the evening and excitement is seen as a crowd of people begin to join the ticket booth.
“Extra! Extra!,” shouts a boy handing out flyers to people as they pass by. “Step right in and catch our new motion picture!”
An elderly couple dressed in evening formal attire head to the theatre and notice the animated boy. They make their way to him.
“Well, what do we have here, young man?,” asks the silver-haired man.
“The names’ James. Put it there!” The boy exclaims as he extends his hand out. The man shakes the boy’s hand.
“A witty one,” the man’s wife says in a low voice. “Young man, what are they playing tonight? There’s a huge crowd outside.”
James hands the elderly woman a flyer of the production. Then everything becomes muffled and less audible from all the noise downtown.
I stand across from the Hudson Theatre and I step off the curve, heading in their direction. Then, as if on cue, I stop in my tracks. A 1928 Chrysler 75 Roadster zooms past me. I don’t flinch. I’m not moved by it. I’ve seen this unfold many times before.
And I know what’s going to happen next. In eleven seconds.
I eye the speeding Roadster honk as pedestrians scurry out of the way for their safety. Someone in gloved hands reaches out of the passenger seat, grabs and flings a potato sack into the air as they make a sharp left turn on Hudson and Maine street.The sack lands with a thud on the ground. And then a man in a fedora and suit to match walks out of a mom-and-pop shop toward the sack.
I look at my watch. Yep, exactly eleven seconds.
I look back at the man crouching down to examine the sack of potatoes. His temple wrinkles in desperation to open the mysterious sack. Somehow I forgot this part, so I take a few steps to get a better visual.
Curiosity killed the cat.
He lets loose of the bag and a wide smile creeps in his face. Jackpot! The man looks menacing, but a wolf in sheep’s clothing; you don’t know if you should trust him or not. I notice him reaching into the sack with a puzzled expression on his face. What he reveals in his hand takes my breath away — diamonds. And they’re gorgeous.
I let out a sigh and see my breath come to life in the crisp, cool night. If I could stop this man I would and I’d put that sack of diamonds in the right hands of the law, but somehow my dream only allows me to be a spectator. I decide to turn around and head back to the theatre.
Crunch. I step on something.
I look down at my feet and it’s a crushed tin can. There’s a few dollar bills and change inside and notice that there’s more money strewn across the pavement.
“Hey! Stop right there!”
I turn to the threatening voice and it comes from the man in the fedora. He hands the sack of diamonds to one of his goons who is now standing next to him.
“You’re dead, kid!” The man in the fedora points his .32 Colt revolver at me, his eyes fixed on mine. He motions at his buddies to tag along.
Great. I’m a witness.
I drop the tin can and make a run for it. Fear. I run through crowds of people not caring if I bump into someone, or make someone fall because of my stupidity. I can hear the men’s laughter echo into the night behind me, but I’m not looking back. Less than half a block away to safety. Then a right turn.
There are a few garbage dumpsters zig-zagging my path, but I keep my focus. I notice a ladder connected to the wall of the theatre and see an open window. I climb up as fast as I can. I pull up the window frame from its hinges and crawl inside. Before closing the window I fold the ladder up and hide on the other side of the wall, letting loose of the see-through curtains. I hear the men shouting amongst each other looking for me.
“We ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid! We just want to talk to ya.” The goons continue to laugh as they draw their revolvers ready to aim and shoot. I let a few seconds pass by while my breathing comes back to normal.
You might think I’m psychic with clairvoyance powers, but I am not. How I knew that these things would happen is because I know this is a dream. I’ve been here many times, but it was today that something changed, like, a ripple causing something to shift.
Maybe there’s a reason I am having these repeated dreams. Each dream gives me a crumb of an answer, but this time is different. The man in the fedora noticed me and I’m now the most wanted on his list.
He wants me dead.
Can he kill me in my dream? Maybe.
Will I be able to wake up again in the next dream? I don’t know.
I need to figure out what changed and caused this ripple effect. And that’s a risk I’ll need to take.
