Nighttime in prison is full of cat calls and howls from other cells , like stepping inside a zoo of exotic animals . Every so often , the night shift CO yells for everyone to pipe down but it remains quiet for a few minutes at most . I wonder how anyone gets sleep . Maybe they take shifts , wake each other up to continue the cacophony .
Silence is worse – when it goes quiet on the block and you can hear every tick , every scurry of could-be mice or rats across the floor . Not sleeping isn ’ t such a bad thing , a blessing in disguise . Every time I close my eyes the nightmares begin .
It starts out as a nice dream , with Cassandra in the meadow . Like Elysium , a true paradise surrounding us . The meadow is greener than the deepest emerald , the grass shimmers in the sunlight , swaying in a light breeze . Cassandra races through the field , giggling . She picks a bouquet of bright flowers and brings them to me , holding them out for me to sniff . Golden hair is braided down her back and swings as she turns and races away . There ’ s a flash and the storm hits without warning . Lightning streaks across the meadows , outlining Cassandra ’ s form in the dark for a split-second before she ’ s gone . No matter where I search , I can ’ t find her .
My dreams return to the same image : a single , cracked headlight , flashing against a pile of crumbling rock . A truck leaning on its nose , shoved deep in the earth with a stream trickling alongside it and a cliff rising above . I ’ d recognize it anywhere , even in my dreams : the Rio Grande Gorge . And at the bottom , that solo headlight , winking . It breaks through my momentary paradise .
The sky rumbles with thunder , air crisp with the promise of rain . I breathe deep , absorb the power of the storm ’ s approach . Wind whips around me , pulling against my body , desperate to consume . It drags me closer to the edge and bits of rock crumble beneath the soles of my feet .
Eight-hundred feet deep , rivets cut into the rocks through years of erosion by the river flowing through the gulley of the Gorge . A streak of lightning ignites the sky . Heavy clouds roll overhead . At the very bottom that incessant , strobing light like a heartbeat . Like a soul breathing down there . It flashes against jagged rocks , imprinting on the backs of my eyelids and illuminating the gorge like a steady strobe , each strike of lightning revealing something new : crushed metal and shattered steel grill , thick black smoke chugging from a busted engine , the hood bent in . Calling attention to itself , the jet-black Toyota crunching further into the earth . Pushing its nose deep , the imprint lasting forever . The wick on a stick of dynamite burnt to the end , waiting for the spark to ignite in a burst of flame .
Rain hits like icicles against my skin . I am a crow watching above , swooping over the wreck to peer inside the cab with beady eyes . Behind the windshield , twin dangling arms reach out but never grasp , never touch the keys in the ignition . An engagement ring shines beneath the seat . That wincing , broken headlight , shards of glass glinting on all sides as if to say I ’ m here , I ’ m here . Come find me .
Instead of answering , I lean my head back and trail my eyes up . Stars cast a net above . I yearn to pull them closer or drag myself up among them . An orange glow of fire erupts below . The wind tugs , pulling me down the Gorge and I lose my balance , free-falling into flames . Spinning in a whirlpool of bright stars , the sensation of falling down the cliffside to the bottom of the gorge jerks me awake , covered in a cold sweat .
Dreams loom over me . A headachy , sticky fog wraps my mind like a spider ’ s web . I
26 Cauldron Anthology