Bad Wisdom

What I hate the most about these dreams is the way you know things in them. How this info springs to mind, and you have a whole story that your head - which has made up this vivid hellshow for you in the first place - won't let you wriggle out of. Sometimes, it even lets you in on the secret that you are actually only dreaming, but it drags you along kicking and screaming anyhow.
And there're the ones that happen again and again, even ones where they aren't exactly the same, but you know what's going to happen - like they're on the same map, and you remember, suddenly, in the last one this happened there, and you know the directions to the imaginary spot....

Like this one, where I knew Kate was gone. I was standing in the apartment, and it looked like it did after she tore out of there for the last time, but I knew she'd done it later this time. And if I needed proof, I heard that voice behind me again.

"She left us." I know it's a dream, so it makes sense that this kid can talk to me in a sensible manner, despite looking what, three, four maybe? I don't know, some undefinable age.

"Aw, baby, no, she'll be back," and I have the horrible image that maybe Kate won't because she took the other kind of exit - but I skip past that because the kid is staring me down.

Young as she is, she's got long dark hair that marks her out as mine. I have a momentary absurd impulse to apologize for the beak she's gonna end up with, but I stifle that fast. She looks at me with a face that's mostly Kate's, but Gran's eyes, too old for her time, knowing far too much too soon. "She won't be back. Not ever."

I should go over to her, say something, but she's pinning me to the wall with that look. She's got a stuffed dog that I know I should recognize, and it seems to be making her angry, as she backs away. "I hate you."

"Don't say that, baby, please. It'll be all right." Why can't I think of her name? That's right, I remember, she never got one.

Like she can hear that thought, she reacts again. "No, I didn't. You did that. I hate you." She breaks into a run, and I follow her out to the hallway, which is impossibly long and drops into darkness. I can't catch up, but I try, as fast as I can until there's just a gaping hole at my feet... I stop, but not fast enough, and I know I'm about to fall, I can feel the vain twist backwards I'm making to stop it, but...

I wake up. Not screaming, just that fucked up awake where you can't get for a minute where the real world went -and then you have to adjust to the fact that no, this is real, that wasn't - but you can't quite convince yourself of that yet. All you can do is roll over and try to wait for the morning, as if that'll solve things.

I can't expect Alex to understand. How could she? Sooner or later, if she doesn't leave, she'll want what I can't give her, won't she? How is that fair - to her, to myself, to any of us?