Blinking and gasping Amanda surfaced from her dream like a drowning man from water.  She sat bolt upright staring at her open doorway, the only source of light at what must have been a very early predawn hour.  Her heart rate suggested long amounts of time spent running at full clip perhaps while being chased by some big cat of the Savannah, but her dogs slept on suggesting that Amanda’s alert came from the nonphysical.  She tried laying down and flipping her pillow but the sense of dread didn’t dissipate nor did the slight pain running across her nose bridge.  Gently lifting her hand Amanda prodded the sore area and her memory.

 

Not typically one to attempt to place meaning on the ephemeral contents of dreams she struggled to make sense of the pieces.  All Amanda remembered could barely fill a sentence.  There had been an awful feeling, akin to terror, as a pillow was smashed over her face, which in a weird way explained the nose, but there were also words.  Unable to recall them she tried her mother’s favorite trick of retracing her steps.  Amanda lay in the same spot as before, closed her eyes, and willed herself to remember.  After what could have been seconds or hours it came to her, “They’re telling me to shoot ’em,” ice ran through her veins, “Was that right?”

 

Phone now clutched to her chest and pacing Amanda made her decision and dialed.  It didn’t even take the ten minutes necessary to make her tea before she could see the blue police lights in her window.  Sitting on her couch, in the dark, facing the her door Amanda waited to hear what they would find across the hall.  That was where Julie lived with her twin boys, Robbie and Toby, and husband Mike, when he was on military leave.  Not two days ago Julie had confided in her that Mike had not been himself lately even around the two-year-olds.

 

Feet thundered up the short stairs, fists berated the door, the threat/promise “We’re coming in” was issued, followed by a door being smashed then nothing.

 

Amanda’s tea cooled to room temperature forgotten in her grasp as she waited.  Sounds of yelling and a scuffle though muted by walls and space reverberated through her very soul.  Without meaning to Amanda moved to the door and opened it just in time to watch Julie and the boys being rushed off then a semiconcious Mike was carried out in handcuffs.  Watching the progress down the stairs Amanda was surprised to see two men standing on her welcome mat.

 

“Ma’am, we would like to ask you a few questions,” the man with dark hair and blue eyes said.  All she could do was nod.  “You were the one who called 911,” blue eyes again, once more Amanda nodded.

 

“How did you know?”  This man had a 4 o’clock shadow and dark eyes, “Miss there were no shoots fired and nothing looked disturbed.”  She met him with silence, how to explain the dream.  “Your call said loud noises,” he checked a note pad.

 

“Must have been raised voices,” she offered as way of explination, “I have dogs.”

 

“Some dogs,” he said but the look in his eyes said more.  Amanda was sure she would see him again.

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