The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.38 Spiraling

June 14, 5:45 am

Keith awoke to the roar of a lion.

In his dream the world had gone dark and gray, and the earth was about to come apart at the seams. He was alone. And he was deaf, and he was blind. He knew he was in his room, even in his own bed, but nothing felt right. The texture of the blanket was hard and unyielding, and the bed seemed frozen into a permanent trough where his body lay. He had called out for Richard, but his voice made no sound. He reached out a hand for him, and he wasn't there. Then—still under the stifling weight of his dream—he remembered it all.

Richard was dead. He was murdered and gone, and he'd never be coming back.

It was as if reality was a frayed old hammock that could no longer hold his weight. As if Richard's death was the first thread that had been pulled that would ultimately unravel the entire universe. As Richard had died, he had pulled that tiny thread with him into the darkness, and now all that remained was to watch it all unravel. Then would come the falling forever into the emptiness below.

But when the lion roared, it was like a savior's trumpet! He couldn't help but think of Aslan, the lion who represented Jesus in the C. S. Lewis books. The roar was terrible, and it was a roar of vengeance against evil. It was also a roar that demanded justice and felt like it could somehow mend the torn fabric of the universe.

Keith awoke with a start, and stared into the dark bedroom, somehow expecting to hear that roar again. But it never came. There was a hint of light that he could see in the sky through the window, but it looked gray and cold outside. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, as the bleak reality of his life poured back over him. It was a reality that was even darker than his dreams, and he wished he could slide back into them and escape. But he was now fully awake.

He crawled out from under the heavy blanket, and naked, he made his way to the window. He could hear his wide feet making soft sounds against the carpet, but at least it now felt soft against his toes, and not like the concrete texture that had filled his nightmares. Looking out, he saw that the sky was dark and ominous. It was one of those days they often got in Salt Lake City, where the sky stayed a mottled gray, with the sun nowhere to be seen. It was going to be a cool and dreary day, and most likely there would be rain soon. He sighed, thinking that the weather outside matched his weather inside, almost perfectly.

Groaning, he remembered that today was the day that he had agreed to return to work, after his aborted attempt a week earlier. He wasn't sure that taking that extra week had really been wise, or if it had done him any good. He was actually feeling less able to face the library today than he had last week. Shivering, he pulled on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants he had discarded the night before, and crawled back into bed.

As he lay there, it startled him to hear noises from below. He quickly realized that it was Michelle and Pil, talking in hushed voices, so as not to wake him up. And now that he was concentrating, he could even smell the coffee brewing, and the hear the bacon frying.

They've come over to make me breakfast before my first day back at work, he realized. And just the thought of how much care and devotion that small act showed was enough to bring the tears back to his eyes. And yet, even in the knowledge of how much his friends loved him, he couldn't help but feel bereft and alone. So rather than leaving the bed and going downstairs, or even just getting up to take a shower, he just stayed there, staring at the ceiling.

I'm spiraling down, he thought. At least, I feel like I am. There are times when everything seems okay. But then there are times, like now, when I can barely tolerate having my eyes open.

"Keith, honey?" Michelle said softly, standing in the doorway. He hadn't even heard her come up the stairs. But crossing to the window earlier must have alerted her he was awake.