Work Text:
“If you could describe yourself in one word, what would it be?”
Haunted, KJ thought. Not an uncommon thought these days.
It was her first day back at NYU, and her history of film professor set out a list of questions. KJ had all the answers.
- She was born and raised in Stony Stream, Ohio.
- She was a sophomore at NYU.
- She was film major.
- What turned her on to film was the movie making legend himself: Kubrick (specifically 2001: A Space Odyssey).
- Something most people (all people) didn’t know about her was that she dreamed vividly each night about violet skies, raining bikes and newspapers, laser beams, and Mac.
- If she were to describe herself in one word it would be haunted.
Five and six on that list were intertwined and troubling. (Also something she could never admit out loud.)
Last night in particular had been troubling. The dream (nightmare) lasted longer this time and she woke up remembering every detail. Mac was there, and KJ couldn’t tell why she was such a prominent figure in her dreams. Mac had been a childhood friend on her paper route as a kid. They met in the Stony Stream mall as children, and Mac had gotten her a job at the Cleveland Preserver shortly after.
KJ hadn’t really needed the job and, after too many early mornings, quit the paper route when she was thirteen. She hadn’t seen or talked to Mac ever again.
KJ didn’t even know Mac was sick until she heard about her funeral from a classmate.
It hit her hard. Harder than it should have for a casual acquaintance she hadn’t spoken to in so long. And now, nearly three years since the day she heard about Mac’s death, she still dreamed of the girl nearly every night.
It was disturbing to say the least. Most of the time KJ could ignore the dreams. They had become a regular occurrence and comforted her to some extent.
Most of the time the scariest thing about the dreams were everything else. Mac was the only real comfort in a foreign world of distortion and violence.
Mac was alive in her dreams, but she didn’t speak. She would smoke cigarettes, roll her eyes, and huff about moodily, a smile sometimes creeping up the corner of her lips. Yet no words came out.
There were some moments, however, just after KJ was torn from the clutches of sleep, that she would feel that deep, crushing grief she had learned when she first discovered what happened to Mac. She would wake up, tears on her face, and Lauren would shift in their bed, rousing at her cries, and ask what was wrong.
Last night KJ lied and said it was just a bad dream, stress-induced and normal for returning college students far from home. Lauren held her until she calmed down, and KJ felt like a fraud.
She had never told anyone about Mac, and she didn’t want to.
KJ knew that nothing about this was normal.
When it was her turn, KJ smiled and wove a little at everyone in the class. Some smiled back.
“Hi, I’m KJ, I was born and raised in Stony Stream, Ohio, I’m a sophomore, a film major—I love Kubrick, especially 2001: A Space Odyssey. Something most people don’t know about me is that I was a paper girl when I was young, and in one word I would describe myself as foolproof.”