Thrown to the Wolves

It began at a fish store.

I know that sounds odd, because it seems that quite a few of my dreams take place inside a fish store. But I can't control it; there we were.

When I say 'we' I'm referring to my best friend and I. We were in this fish store, separately; she was off somewhere else in the store and I was along the northern wall on the left-hand side of the store. I was browsing through the tanks when I came upon a baby beaver. It was caged much like a small turtle might be, in a terrarium with equal measure land and water. The poor little thing was no bigger than my fist, but was fully-formed and was, in fact, a miniature version of a fully-grown beaver.

There was a man beside me, also browsing, also happening upon this beaver, and a conversation started. I can't say what we talked about since I really don't know, but an announcement went over the loudspeaker during the chat, calling me to the back room, where my friend awaited me. This man was very polite, handsome, friendly, kind; I felt bad that I had to leave. I told him I'd be back, and he offered this: "I'll be right here waiting. Right at the beaver. If you come back before the store closes tonight, I'll know it's meant to be." Though he didn't kiss me then, I could tell he wanted to—that he felt the same internal struggle I experienced. In a very awkward manner, we said our goodbyes and I left.

The store, for whatever reason, was split down the center into two halves. The left-most half was a fish store with the rows being very much like any typical retail chain, whereas the right-most half seemed more a club or a popular hangout spot. I can't actually say what a club looks like, I've never been. But by the Hollywood definition, it fit the bill. I met up with my friend and we talked and talked...she was so beautiful and yet she could talk you into an early grave if given half the chance. Quite the chatterbox. Anyway, the conversation reached its peak and, though I have no idea what we decided on, I agreed and went outside to my car, where I proceeded to put on my jacket. Or perhaps take it off; I distinctly recall balling up my jacket and throwing it into the backseat, but it's unclear whether I did this on this particular trip to the car or during the next one, when we left. Oh well. I did something with my jacket.

I re-entered the store, and searched through the aisles, particularly the northern wall on the left-hand side, but my knight-in-shining-smiles was nowhere to be found. I kept a smile on my face, but when I told my friend he was missing, she saw the tears in my eyes.

We went about our business—whatever that means—until nearly closing time. As I was making my way to the door once again, an employee happened to mention that there was a man sleeping in one of the aisles, on one of the lower shelves, in fact. I inquired as to where and they told me...it was the northern wall! On the left-hand side! That must have been him, clearly, but they gave me his name, since apparently they did know who he was, so I assume he actually did this quite often...and I'm rambling. I did seem to know the name, and I had a face that went with that name in my head, so when the man walked up to me, he was not the same man I had fallen for earlier that day. He was someone else, someone I was not attracted to. I nodded politely and dismissed him, and he acted as if I too was not the girl he had fallen for earlier that day. We were two different people, and why? Because it had not been in the fairytale setting by the beaver cage? Or because life had gotten in the way? Or because our vision is jaded by the sweeping romance of a lustful relationship?

Either way, the man was now gone and the beaver remained unpurchased. I gossiped about the incident to my best friend when I went back to her location on the right-hand side of the store, until it was whispered that the man I had grown fond of and the man I had dismissed were not actually the same person; they were, somehow, the same entity, yet two separate beings. I had fallen for one-half of a man, and he was beautiful. I glanced across the store. As it were, we were against the northern wall, and the stars aligned just right for me to have a clear view all the way to the left-hand side of the store, to the beaver tank, and there he stood.

I got excited to see my prince again, and rushed to leave, ready to go home—a mere cover story to give me the chance to pass by the beaver tank one last time. I didn't want to get my hopes up that it really was him, but I didn't want to miss the chance to see him again, either.

There he stood, speaking softly through the glass, whispering to the tiny animal how (most likely) he was going to set it free one day. How he'd save it from captivity and from the eyes of the onlookers. I can only assume that's what he was saying, but he was just that sort of man, you know? Adorable.

My best friend tugged at my jacket—ah, there it is...I still had it on—and she called me away. I longed for the man but I knew it was futile. Even if we met again, what would I say? What would we do? We'd just end up drifting apart and the whirlwind romance would be gone. It was too great a memory to let it disintegrate, so I conceded to my friend and we left. In very much a fairytale fashion, I tossed one last glance his way while walking out the door, and he looked up. Our eyes met, the sadness in mine reflecting back at me in his, and I knew it was over. Would he search for me, like a prince searching for the damsel in distress? Was I a damsel in distress who needed finding? So many questions arose in that glance.

My friend and I went back to my car, which in itself was an oddity in the strangeness of the dream world. It was here that I balled up my jacket and tossed it into the backseat...not just a normal toss, mind you, but I threw it through the space where the front windshield should have been, past the front seats, and into the recess which appeared to be the backseat. Everything was slightly off-white and nothing looked comfortable. I think the car was a convertible, but by that I mostly mean to say there were no windows; there were spaces for windows and a windshield, but the glass wasn't there.

We climbed into the seats and began to drive. To where, I do not know.

***

The weather seemed to be deteriorating quickly; what started as a clear afternoon became a windy morning (yes, time works differently in dreams) and although it didn't physically snow, there was snow on the ground. The car slid a few times on the icy road, and when it hadn't slipped in a while we thought we were safe. We were wrong.

One final patch of ice got us, and the car slid off into the ditch. We were right behind the corner of a building—not a full building that I ever saw, just the soft, yellowed corner—and in what I assume was a result of the accident, I couldn't move. I was lying there across the front seat (and yet somehow also across the hood of the car, though I was lying quite flat and parallel to the ground) and my best friend was lying to my left, which was also behind me, from the way I was spread out, mostly on my stomach but propped on my left side.

Time went by; it felt quick but I knew it to be longer. My best friend didn't have the problem I had with moving, and she was able to stand and stretch her legs. She said she would go get help, and for a minute I thought it was a great idea...until we heard them.

Wolves. In the distance, I could see their shapes moving against the snow. They were hard to make out and even harder to track, but I knew they were getting closer. My friend, she said, "I'll go get help. Stay here." I tried to warn her, tried to plead with her to stay, but she didn't seem to hear me. She left, and they made their move. She had barely rounded the corner out of view when she screamed. I knew they had gotten her.

I lay there a bit longer, and the wolves circled 'round. Slowly, they made their way inward toward the car—toward me. I discovered that I had a blanket of sorts draped across my shoulders, and I noticed my hair in wild disarray, so I tucked my head down into the seat of the car, with one eye on the wolves, and excruciatingly slowly...with the slightest of movements...I pulled the blanket to the top of my neck and buried my face beneath my hair.

I knew that if I stayed perfectly still, they wouldn't see me. Hopefully, the scent of delicious human was covered by the smoke and gasoline of the car. They drew closer, and I squeezed my eyes shut, shuddering when I felt their breath against my forehead. A tugging at my leg terrified me, and every muscle in my body stiffened in fear. One nuzzled my hair, slobbering across my face, and the tugging at my leg got stronger.

I think I knew I would have been dead. Staying perfectly still hadn't confused them or distracted them at all; it just made them take their time.

Without warning, people came around the corner. To my surprise, one of them was my best friend. She had lived!

They scared off the wolves, and an ambulance pulled up in silence. I was flipped over and helped to my feet...until I tried to stand on my own, and realized that the tugging at my foot had actually been a wolf removing my foot altogether. My right leg ended at the ankle in a mangled mess of blood and torn muscle.

I survived the wolves, which is all I can ask for. The stranger in the fish store wouldn't have wanted anything to do with a broken woman anyhow. At the end of the day, I still had my best friend, and that was more than enough for me.