Jennipher was shaken. The police officer had given her a ticket, refused to chase the black car, and called her mother. She had come to meet Jen and couldn't decide whether she was angry or relieved. It seems calls from the police had a tendency to rattle parents.
And now, as she lay in bed, staring at the slow spin of the ceiling fan, she let her mind wander. Replaying the harrowing drive home over and over again; sometimes close to the truth, sometimes with details embellished or erased. Sometimes she escaped the car, sometimes it forced her off the road. Sometimes another car was involved, a whole fleet of black sedans, waiting to hurt her.
Sometimes she couldn't see the driver of the car, sometimes she could. Sometimes it was the police officer, her mother, the creepy guy from Alligretti's, Denise...and sometimes it was Steve, the look in his eyes piercing her more than a car accident could.
And then, when she could handle her dreams no more (for dreams is what they were), she saw a wide-open plain. A veldt, somewhere in Africa. From far above, from the eyes of a majestic bird, she saw a herd of zebras at a watering hole, elephants eating from trees. She saw native children playing with a battered soccer ball, giraffes running across the grassland. And then, circling down, she saw a lion. It was fierce and proud and unafraid of its surroundings. But not unaware; she felt great wisdom from this creature. Her dream-self landed on a tree branch.
A giggling growl from behind, and she swung around to see a hyena, blood dripping from its muzzle. She looked back to the lion, who was gone. A man stood in its place. The same nobility, the same wisdom. His skin the color of mud, hoops in his left ear. Markings on his crest and face. Native.
"I am waiting for you," he said.
Jen snapped awake, stifling a scream. Her digital clock read 3:42. That was enough sleep for tonight. She couldn't go back and face that hyena. Dream or no dream, she was awake for the day.
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