The Vase
In which nothing is as it seems
In my dream, the vase was the most important thing. I had to protect it, even at the cost of my own life. I didn’t know why. All I knew was that I was terrified, the hammering of my heart so intense I thought it would beat right out of my chest.
I ran, clutching the vase to me, hidden beneath my coat so that no one might see it and wrest it from my grasp. I ran through streets and forests, through abstract landscapes I failed to realize were unreal, through villages and towns.
The only constant was my ever-moving feet, running from I knew not what danger toward a mythical haven I had never glimpsed. All for this mysterious, all-important vase. A wailing erupted from somewhere behind me, then a howl…and then the baying of dogs giving chase.
A sob caught in my throat as I somehow increased my pace, not hearing, at first, the voice calling my name, quietly, then more urgently.
“Genissa, wake up.”
Rough hands shook me awake, and I sprang bolt-upright in my bed, eyes wide with remembered danger.
“Dad. I just had the worst nightmare.”
“No time,” my father answered as he looked behind him then back at me. Urgent now, he thrust something cold and hard into my hands. “Run. Keep this safe.”
He disappeared as though he’d never been there as I looked down to see the pink vase in my hands.
I grew this story from the words dream, vase, and bed. When I saw the prompt the first line popped into my head and I was off. As I wrote, I worked on an image on Midjourney to go with it.
What do you think? Is Genissa still dreaming or was her dream a premonition? What kind of a world does she live in—ours or an alternate reality in which all of this is possible?
Which is reality? Which is the dream? I thought her dad at the end was the dream that reminded her why she was running. I like being able to interpret a story to my own understanding. In high school, I was once asked on a test what I thought a particular story was trying to convey and I carefully drafted my response. I received no marks for the essay, was told I was wrong. Guess the interpretation of the question was where I actually went off track!!
I agree with Connie’s take on the story. This gave me chills!