Things Change Fast. A dream from November 16th, 2022. 

by: Ariana Strong

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Blazing sun. Rushing wind. Spiking adrenaline. Family fun. Full laughs. Long waits. Small talks. The day dims and energy diminishes. My family and I part at the exit. My new friend and I stay a little longer. Later, we jump into her slate minivan and drive off. “Oh no,” she says. We are stuck in mile-long traffic. The air feels aggressive and impatient. To the right is the dark, stormy sea. She points. Out the left window, I see it. A swaying black banner draped over an entire office building. A white square, addition sign, hexagon, and pentagon. I am not a native of the state I am in. I do not know what it means. I tilt my head. “What is it?” I ask. Honking cars. Screaming people. Loud blasts. Slow breaths. Masked men dressed in all black hold machine guns and packs. They forcefully rob each car. Glass and people go flying. I lie face down on the floor between the front and back seats. I hide my phone under my stomach. I place my bag and purse in the passenger's seat. I wait. My friend does the same and rolls down the windows, so the men do not break them. We wait. It rains. Small drops dampen the slate leather seats. The men come. They yell, snatch our bags, and steal our money. Pounding hearts. Receding footsteps. Thundering sky. Deep breaths. Dried tears. Relieved sighs. Sirens near and traffic clears. We are safe and alive. We quietly drive home.