Chapter 19: Fragments Of Lydia

Melissa woke up in the morning, the remnants of her dream still vivid in her mind. She had been dreaming of Lydia again. The dream had been so real that when she woke up, she felt disoriented, her heart racing. She glanced at her phone, the soft glow of the screen offering some comfort as the reality of the dream began to fade. But it was always the same. Lydia, her best friend since childhood, was the focus of these dreams, and the clarity with which they played out felt unsettling.

Her mom had told her many times before that not all dreams had meaning. But this, this was different. These dreams of Lydia weren’t like the fleeting ones that disappeared as quickly as they came. These dreams lingered in her thoughts throughout the day, lingering like a heavy fog that wouldn’t lift. It was as if Lydia herself had a message for her, but she couldn’t quite understand what it was.

Melissa sat up in bed, rubbing her temples. She had tried searching online for answers—what did it mean to have recurring, vivid dreams about the same person? But the results didn’t resonate with her. Some said it could be a sign of deep connection, others spoke of unresolved emotions or lingering feelings. But none of the explanations felt right.

A thought crept into her mind: Was something going on with Lydia that she hadn’t told her about? But then, deep within her, a voice whispered that this wasn’t the case. Lydia wasn’t the type to keep things hidden. Still, the dreams kept coming, more frequent and intense with each passing night.

What if something was wrong? What if something bad was going to happen to Lydia? The thought of this sent a cold chill down Melissa’s spine. She couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard she tried. It wasn’t like her to let her imagination run wild, but something about these dreams felt…important. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she couldn’t dismiss the feeling that something was amiss.

Melissa shook her head, trying to focus on the present. It was Saturday morning, and the Wright family had their usual tradition of sleeping in a bit. It was the one day of the week when everyone was allowed to relax without the pressures of work or school. She had gotten up early, though, mostly because her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. She needed something to do to distract herself from the unsettling thoughts swirling around in her head.

She slowly made her way downstairs to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee and something cooking wafted through the house, and for a moment, it brought her some comfort. Her mom, Mrs. Wright, was already busy at the stove, flipping pancakes, while her brother Victor was by her side helping her.

“Good morning,” Melissa mumbled as she entered, her voice low and sluggish from the lingering haze of her early morning thoughts.

Her mom and brother glanced at each other, sensing something was off. “Good morning, Lisa,” they both replied in unison, though their voices were laced with concern. They could feel the chill in the air around her.

“Are you alright?” Mrs Wright asked gently, eyeing her daughter with a worried frown.

Melissa, who had been lost in her own world, didn’t even hear her mother’s question at first. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, absentmindedly stirring a cup of tea.

Mrs Wright exchanged a silent glance with Victor, and without a word, he stepped forward and tapped Melissa on the shoulder to get her attention.

“Melissa?” he said, his voice calm but firm, breaking through her distracted thoughts.

She blinked, startled. “Oh, sorry. What did you say?” she asked, looking up at them, her face a mix of confusion and exhaustion.

Victor spoke again. “Mom was talking to you. You didn’t hear her.”

Melissa let out a soft sigh. “Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention.” She quickly apologized to her mom and asked if she needed any help. Mrs Wright, ever the nurturer, nodded but still seemed concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay, Lisa? Is it that time of the month?” She asked, her voice soft but filled with love and care. “You can rest in the living room if you’re feeling tired. Victor and I have this covered.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” Melissa replied, offering a small smile. “I was just thinking about something.”

Mrs Wright gave her a skeptical look, but she didn’t press the issue further. “Why don’t you go set the table, dear?” she suggested instead. “Victor and I will handle the rest of breakfast.”

“Okay, Mom,” Melissa said, nodding as she grabbed the plates, cutlery, and cups and made her way to the dining room.

As she arranged the items on the table, one of the cups slipped from her hand and fell to the ground with a loud crash, shattering into pieces.

Victor and Mrs. Wright, who had been in the kitchen, rushed out at the noise. Their father, still holding a razor in one hand and shaving cream on his face, appeared as well, his eyes wide with alarm.

“Melissa, are you hurt?” Mrs Wright asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Melissa quickly looked around her body and replied.

“No, Mom, I’m fine,” Melissa said, trying to reassure them, though her heart was racing.

Mrs. Wright’s face softened with relief. “Why are you so lost in thought this morning?” she asked, her voice filled with worry.

“I wasn’t lost in thought,” Melissa replied quickly, though her voice faltered slightly. “My hand just hit the cup by accident, and it fell.”

“That’s enough now,” Mr. Wright said, his voice calm but firm. “It’s okay since, she’s not hurt.”

Victor, ever the practical one, had already grabbed a broom and dustpan and started cleaning up the broken glass.

“Step back, Melissa,” he said, gesturing for her to give him space. “Let me clean this up.”

Melissa stepped back, her mind still reeling from everything. As Victor bent down to gather the glass, he noticed the small cut on her foot.

“Melissa, you’re bleeding!” Victor exclaimed.

Mrs Wright quickly rushed to her daughter’s side, concern written all over her face. Mr Wright, still with shaving cream on his face, hurriedly dashed over to her. “What happened?” he asked, his voice laced with panic.

“It’s nothing serious,” Mrs Wright assured him as she grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard. “Let’s just get her cleaned up.”

“Melissa, come here,” her mother said, gently guiding her to the couch.

Melissa sat down beside her, placing her foot on her mother’s lap. Mrs Wright carefully cleaned the cut, applying antiseptic and a bandage with the care and precision that only a mother could have.

As her mom worked, she asked again, “What’s going on, Lisa? You’ve been acting strange all morning.”

Melissa let out a heavy sigh, looking down at her foot. “I’ve just been having these dreams,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “And they’re so vivid, so real. I can’t get them out of my head. It’s about Lydia.”

Mrs. Wright paused, looking at her daughter. “Dreams? About Lydia?”

“Yeah,” Melissa replied, her voice shaky. “I don’t know. They just keep coming, and I feel like she’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what.”

Her mother nodded, understanding the depth of her daughter’s distress. “You can only get rid of negative thoughts by completely stopping yourself from thinking about them,” she said gently. “The more you focus on them, the harder they are to shake off.”

Melissa nodded but couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to these dreams. What if they were a warning? What if Lydia was in trouble?

Her father, who had been standing quietly in the corner, still covered in shaving cream, finally spoke up. “I was scared when I heard you got hurt,” he said sheepishly, his voice softening.

Melissa laughed, the tension breaking for a moment. “Dad, what are you doing over there? You look ridiculous,” she teased.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his face with a towel. “I was just worried.”

Mrs Wright smiled at the exchange, her heart lightening at the sight of her family. “Go finish shaving,” she told her husband with a chuckle. “You’re making a mess.”

Mr Wright nodded sheepishly and returned to the bathroom. Victor finished cleaning up the broken glass and helped finish setting up the table.

Eventually, the family settled down to a quiet, delicious Saturday breakfast. Mrs Wright noticed that Melissa wasn’t eating much, barely picking at her food.

“Hmmm,” Mrs Wright cleared her throat, sending a clear signal to her daughter.

Melissa glanced up, her face flushing slightly as she picked up her pace, forcing herself to eat. After a few more moments of silence, they finally finished breakfast.

“Thank you for the meal, Mom,” they all said, clearing the table. Melissa felt a sense of comfort from the simple routine, though her mind was still heavy with the thoughts of her dreams.

As they went about their morning, Melissa couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, but she didn’t know what it was or how to fix it. All she could do was wait and hope that, whatever it was, she would figure it out before it was too late.