text: Waking up in the middle of a dream is a beautiful thing. Most dreams slip away in the night but waking up in the middle of one is like catching a criminal in the act. Just how a criminal can’t explain away what you clearly have seen, you can no longer forget the dream. You’ve ‘caught’ it, so to say. If remembering a dream in this way is ‘catching a criminal’ then I suppose I’ve cheated. I woke up to an applause just a moment ago. Not just any applause, though. A TV audience for Jenna Raleigh’s Relationship Autopsy program. So, I didn’t ‘catch’ the dream, Jenna’s audience did, and, what’s worse, I can’t be sure that my dream wasn’t just a by-product of what I heard from the television. I think about what happened in my dream. I walked alongside her for most of it. I knew who it was even though I didn’t see her until the end, when she turned to me under the blossoming magnolia, her long, red hair draped along her shoulders, and smiled. The kind of smile one gives to an old friend, like she actually wanted to see me. I’m surprised I even remember how that’s supposed to look. I saw her just last week. She demanded to see my house before allowing our daughter, Kelly, to visit again. The doorbell sounded angry. I don’t get visitors often so maybe it surprised me, getting one, but I remember it sounding wrong. Doorbells are supposed to let you know ‘a friend is here,’ but mine didn’t speak to me. It didn’t say anything heartfelt, reminding me that I have loved ones. It was cold, but even it couldn’t prepare me for her. Amber, my wife of a life long since passed, wasn’t angry, wasn’t judgmental; she was just there. There isn’t another way to put it. She walked through my house (if you can call it that), looking at the dishes lying on the floor and the sofa and the bed accompanied by chip bags and crushed energy drinks, and just watched. She didn’t yell. I wish she had. I wish she showed me that I was worth yelling at. “This is spotless when she comes over,” she stated. “Understood?” Kelly will be here in a few hours and I still haven’t cleaned. The coffee table is probably the best thing to start; she’ll see that first. I grab a trash bag from under the sink and throw anything crunchy, shiny, or bottle-shaped in. “And when did you discover that Brad was having an affair?” A voice asks from the TV. “Well Jenna, he usually cries after sex or tears up at the very least, but the past few months, nothing.” A blonde woman says, scratching her chin. I feel along the coffee table and toss the familiar feeling things in while looking up to see how Jenna’s crowd reacts to the story. Each woman clutches a handkerchief to their chest while nodding ‘no.’ One particularly plump woman wiggles her way out of her aisle and races down the stairs to a lone microphone. “They change when they’re--“ she gags, sobbing into her handkerchief. “When they’re up to no good!” she says, finishing with a clenched fist in the air. “Powerful words. So, Pam, this change is what tipped you off?” The host asks, moving the mic closer to the guest’s mouth. “Absolutely Jenna, Brad just stopped being himself. Something had to be wrong,” the woman continues. “We were engaged but now I have to break his hea--” CLICK. I turn off the TV and rest the remote on the empty coffee table. It’s a start. I fill one garbage bag after the next and place them in the shed behind the house. I don’t want Kelly seeing Trash Mountain on the curb. I get a text, ‘5 mins out.’ She’s almost here and the place is still a mess! I didn’t vacuum the rug. I didn’t do the dishes. I didn’t cook anything. There are a lot of things I could have done, should have done, but I have to relax. I need to show her that I’m not the same man. I can do that. I pace the house one more time, all four rooms of it, hoping that something will jump out to me, a way to impress her, anything. Ding Dong! “Crap!” I say, pacing in front of the TV. I run up to the door and place my hand on the knob. What’s the worst that could happen? I open the door. She’s there. Not how I remember her, but, still, it’s her, pinchable nose and all. “Hi, Dad!” she says, jumping forward and hugging me. “Kelly! It’s so good to see you!” I say, wrapping my arms around her. I wave goodbye to her mother who is sitting in her car on the driveway. She doesn’t react to me. Brush it off. “Likewise, old man,” she says, walking past me into the living room. She pulls off her jacket and tosses it on the arm of the sofa, revealing a tattoo of a bird flying across her forearm. Since when does she have a tattoo? How could her mother let her do this at such a young age?! She’s sixteen, she barely knows who she is yet. “Looks better than last time, I’ll give you that,” she comments. “Your mother let you get... that?” I ask, pointing to her arm. “Dad...” “It’s just a question, Kelly.” “Yes, she did. Happy?” She asks, her brows furrowing. Breathe. You’re doing it again. Tattoos mean nothing if she won’t even talk to you. Just... breathe. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t... I wasn’t expecting... it looks nice.” “You don’t have to pretend to like it, it’s alright if you don’t. I just don’t want you to yell at me about it, but, look, I can see the tabletop this time,” she chuckles, plopping down onto the sofa and grabbing the remote. “See?” she says, waving it at me. “A labor of love.” “Is that what it takes to get your butt off the couch?” “Hey, watch it!” I reply, walking over to the fridge. “Do you want anything to drink?” “Do you have any tea?” she asks, turning around and peeking over the sofa excitedly. “Is green tea ok?” “Yea, that’s great.” I drop down on the couch beside her and pass the green tea. She cracks it open and enjoys it gulp after gulp. She always was a loud drinker. Everything else seems to have changed. It’s nice that something hasn’t. “Hey, Dad?” “Yea?” “Thanks for having me over. I missed ‘us’ time.” “Anytime, sweetie. I’ve missed it too.” The thought nags at me, Would I have woken up if it weren’t for the TV? I didn’t even set an alarm. I may never have had the opportunity to live in this dream if it wasn’t ‘caught’ for me. It may have been just like the thousands of other dreams that go unnoticed in the night. Kelly might have come and gone, seeing a mess and thinking her father was the same wreck he’s always been. I live in this dream, for now, but it will end. The night only lasts so long until a new dream begins and, that one, I’ll have to catch on my own. I have to be a new man now, even if I’m not. It starts somewhere, the decision to end something for a new beginning to blossom. My daughter deserves a father, even if I don’t deserve her.