Last night, I dreamt that I woke up, got out of bed, and looked out the bedroom window. I saw that my neighbor across the street had a totaled car sitting in her driveway. Her son was walking in circles around the car while talking on his phone. I watched him for a little while and then I got back in bed and closed my eyes, intending to return to sleep.
That’s when I heard the doorbell ring.
I sat up in bed and wondered if I should answer it. As I sat there arguing with myself, I heard the doorbell ring again. Finally, cursing softly, I got out of bed, threw on a robe, and went downstairs.
When I opened the door, I discovered that there was a rotund, balding man with a pencil-thin mustache standing on my porch. He appeared to be in his early 30s and his eyes were emotionless.
“Hello,” he said in a flat tone of voice, “I just moved in down the street.”
As he spoke, I noticed that there was an elephant sitting on the sidewalk.
“That’s my elephant,” the man said.
“Okay,” I nodded.
The man walked over to the elephant and, for some reason, I followed. The elephant knelt down and allowed us to climb on top of him.
Once we were sitting on the elephant, the man explained that he had only recently returned home from serving overseas. He also asked if I knew what PTSD was. I nodded and told him that I knew what it was. I also added, “That’s why we didn’t set off any firecrackers this July.”
The man said, “Thank you for that. Where I was overseas, it often got very cold. It gets cold in my house sometimes and it triggers me. If you hear me screaming in the middle of the night, do not call the police.”
I nodded. “I won’t.”
Then, I hopped off the elephant and waved goodbye to my new neighbor as he and the elephant moved further down the street. Across the street, my other neighbor’s son said, “Hey, that’s the elephant that stepped on our car!”
Suddenly, I heard someone from inside my house crying out, “Lisa Marie!”
And that’s when I woke up.