Nightmare or Truth

Ever since I could remember I've had nightmares. The same one time and time again, I'm asleep in a bed when a loud noise wakes me... I run out into the hall and there are men in black running in and up the stairs, a lady yells for me to... "follow your brothers and get into the panic room" but then before she can finish what she's saying there's a loud pop sound and she turns and starts screaming and screaming... then I jerk awake screaming myself. My parents have taken me to just about every psychologist there is in the yellow pages and even some outside of the country but they all say the same thing "the injuries you suffered in that car accident and the subsequent fever have left you mentally traumatized".

Apparently when I was five, I don't remember much of my life back then, my dad and I were in this horrible car accident and since we were rear-ended I was the one severely injured. My mom though worries about me especially since I woke her and dad up last night with yet another nightmare; which is how I found myself in yet another psychologist office waiting room. I wondered, as we waited, what this one would say...

When it was my turn the secretary called us in back to this green almost Mediterranean getaway like office; a stark contrast to the ultra plush beige and brown rooms I'm used too. Anyway, when the doctor walked in he asked my mom to leave saying he wanted to talk to me by myself... and of course my mom went off like mentos in a coca cola bottle and started in on the doctor, using her loud inside voice like a classy lady should, "I will not leave my daughter what ever you need to do just do it I'll sit in the corner and not disturb you in the least"... The doctor however didn't even blink he just turned walked to the door opened it again and turned around and looked at her pointedly until she took the hint and walked out in a huff. I decided right then and there that I like him, no one ever acted like that with my mom; even my dad what she wanted she got... life is just so much easier that way, hence all the stupid pink dresses at the back of my closet. Once she was out however he closed the door once more and sat down then got this pad out, clicked his pen, and said "now, why don't you tell me why you're here?"... I just looked at him like he was off his rocker. I'd seen him with my chunky file in his hands when he first passed by the room. But then I figured if he wanted to play dumb it was fine by me; the sooner we got this over with the sooner I could leave, drop off and pick up the pills he'll give me and that will "accidentally" fall into my bathroom toilet... but again his loss not mine. Twenty minutes later I was finally done telling him the whole sordid tale and instead of the ever handy prescription pad coming out he tapped his chin and asked me "are you adopted? I ask because I don't recall seeing any information like that in you file...". I just got up grabbed my bag and made for the door as he sat there with a stupid expectant look on his face... before I could get to the door though he caught me by the arm and said "I did not mean to offend you. Its just that what you described sounded nearly exactly what another patient of mine suffered from in his formative years but from his perspective of course..."

I asked him how was that possible for two people to have the same nightmare and he answered with a question of his own "do you know a Declan McKenzie?" and that was the last thing that I remember before waking up in a hospital bed with a nurse telling me four months had gone by but that "I shouldn't worry" because she's going to call my parents and "I'll be going home with my family in no time" , but that wasn't all I'd woken up with... I had the answer to Dr. Moorland's question, I did know Declan McKenzie, he was my brother!

My nightmare wasn't a nightmare but what happened that made me go from a girl with two parents and five annoying older brothers to the only child of a "businessman" cum gangster and his spoiled high maintenance wife. The man I've thought to have been and called my father for the last 12 years is actually the man who nearly killed my father and took me when I was five after setting my house on fire with the rest of the family inside... With all that in mind I don't wait for the nurse to come back and just grab the robe at the foot of my hospital bed, after yanking out all of the tubs and wires, and slip it on as I tip toe out and down the stairs and out of the hospital all together... I run, barefoot, to a pay phone nearly five blocks away and dial a number that has been blaring like a neon sign in my head... 929-852-7423

After a couple of rings a man with a gruff voice answers saying "who the hell is this? do you know what time it is?" all I could answer was "it's Aoife McKenzie". The line goes quiet and then he starts saying over and over again "stay where you are lass I'm coming, grandda's coming donna fash yourself; I'll no hang up the phone, I'm here lass...". Not half an hour later a SUV comes taking the corner down the street at a sharp turn and stops right in font of the phone booth and out jumps out my grandda... I'm going home to be with my real family...

My name is Aoife McKenzie not Cataleria Constantin