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The City that Doesn’t Stop

By: A.X. Bueno

It’s seven a.m. and I wake up in a room that is all wrong. It’s a room that I haven’t seen in several years since the days I used to visit my grandpa in the Dominican Republic with it’s blue walls and large white closet embedded in the wall. The window is lower than it’s supposed to be, being at eye level instead of near the ceiling. I look out the window and see my neighborhood in New York despite being in this house that I used to visit in D.R. What is going on?

I head to the bedroom door that‘s nestled in the front corner between two walls and the closet. Sitting at the table in the combined living/dining room are my parents and grandfather which includes the father I haven’t seen since I was seven though he has kept in touch with phone calls. I’m about to start asking so many questions and open my mouth to start doing so but I stop when I hear a familiar meow followed by a familiar sight and I almost start crying. Casually strolling down the hall is a black and white cat with a dull gray collar that I recognize almost immediately. It’s my cat Cinnamon that I buried two years ago. Her being here and alive does nothing but raise further questions but I don’t care and I scoop her up immediately in my arms while on the verge of tears.

I cradle her in my arms for a good five minutes she meows after three trying to escape but I’m just so overjoyed. Nothing makes sense but at this moment I honestly don’t care and then my dad interrupts the silent reunion while Cinnamon leaps out of my arms, her black and white body disappearing into the shadows. “Sooo.. son how’d you sleep? Are you ready for our next fishing trip?” Now that I’ve had a few minutes for things to process I’m finally ready to start asking questions.starting with when the heck dad took me fishing. “Uhhh... dad what are you doi...?” my speech feels slow for some reason but then right in the middle of my question there’s a knock at the door and dad just gets up to get it like we weren’t just talking and I wasn’t just asking him an important question about what’s going on. In the minute between my dad walking to the door and him answering I decide it’s better to look around and see what else is off while he’s dealing with whoever is at the door than try to talk to him while he’s distracted.

I notice that while this house seems like the one my family used to spend our annual vacations to D.R. in before we sold it several years back,several things in the living room alone are off. A cabinet that was a lightish brown last time I visited is now a dark black, two photos are missing off one of the walls making it look almost empty, there was supposed to be a shelf above where the tv goes but now the tv is sitting on a large cabinet with no shelf, and some things are starting to change color when I look at them more than once like the bedroom doors changed from white to more of a mahogany color. It’s like I’ve become trapped in some kind of living spot the difference puzzle.

Dad finally lets the person at the door in after taking a longer time than he should have to reach the door right when I was about to check if there was anything strange in the kitchen. I look to see who was at the door and I can feel my eyes grow wide and my whole body shivers for a moment. Talking to my dad is my grandmother who like my dad also hasn’t been in my life much but unlike my dad she’s been dead for almost a decade. Since she was even less a part of my life than my dad while on an instinctual level I recognize her, on a visual level it’s hard to say because her features keep shifting slightly as if reality doesn’t know what she looks like. Her and my dad are talking to each other and at this point I realize that not only has no one else said anything, not even my mom but they're also speaking perfect english despite the fact that one of them has a South American accent and the other one shouldn’t know any english.

I don’t want to be in this house anymore surrounded by this surreal imitation of the past and things long gone, I need to get out of here and find someplace to think that feels more real than this house. Before I can escape this constantly shifting house of confusion however my grandmother stops me with her arm that looks slightly bigger than before saying “where are you hurrying off to? Your uncle is stopping by for a visit, you should wait till he comes.” She starts pushing me toward a chair before I can say or do anything to get away and while she’s pushing I notice that there is no force in her push yet she’s still pushing me anyway, it’s as if my body knows what she’s doing even though it can’t feel it. So I’m pushed into sitting down with my family at the table and we just wait in uncomfortable silence for ten minutes, nobody doing or saying anything like we all became statues while waiting for this sudden visit from an uncle that doesn’t make any sense. It’s pretty confusing how he’s coming at all since this place is a mish-mash of a New York neighborhood with this Dominican style house leaving me unsure where we truly are and my uncle lives a good distance from both New York and D.R. making a visit, something that needs planned in advance and a sudden visit seem impossible.

While I think about that the silence continues and I decide to try breaking it. “So... when do you think he’ll get... here?” again my speech feels slow and there’s this feeling of cold in my throat now. I get no response at first like nobody heard but then everyone looks up like they heard me before looking down like bad news was delivered. I wait a minute and then try to ask if anyone heard me except I can’t speak. That feeling of cold has now made my throat feel like there’s a block of ice in it and when I try to speak only a choked cough comes out. Nobody notices, not even my mom who is usually pretty observant and the first person to notice something being wrong.

At this point I’ve had all I can stand of this nightmare. Even more than before I need to escape this house and stop waiting because of a reason that makes no sense given everything around me. I decide my best strategy of escape is simply to run for it and figure things out when I’m outside and . Everytime I start to examine what’s going on something pops up that distracts me so I need to stop trying to figure things out for now and just get out of here. This time it’s my mom that extends her arm out to stop me and I try to tell her I need to go but all that comes out is cold and almost a chunk of ice. I run, reach the kitchen before smelling something rotting and then stop when I see Cinnamon dead again, same as last time: body limp and lifeless, a few drops of blood on the floor, lying in her bed that shouldn’t be here this time, just a painful sight.

I want to cry and can almost feel a tear forming but find myself unable to and I’m not sure if it’s because this moment has lost a bit of impact from happening before or if I’m simply too emotionally numb to care as much anymore and I don’t know which is worse. My family is now behind me and simply decides to watch from the hallway as I begin to move towards the door since I still need to get out of here. None of them move, they simply watch me leave with blank expressions on their faces and then I’m gone. I’m finally outside now and am even more confused than before. The weird hybrid neighborhood that I saw outside my old family home is just gone when I try to look back, now replaced by Manhattan in all its sprawling splendor.

Whatever chance I thought I had of getting my bearings and finding a less confusing place to think are gone now. I know this place is Manhattan judging by the buildings, strategically placed trees, and familiar surroundings but I have no idea the exact street I’m on or where to go. The streets are empty and while the surroundings are familiar there’s no particular landmark or anything that around that would give any clue to where I am like say Union Square Station or Bryant Park. All that’s around me are trees, sidewalk, and generic tall buildings that have that Manhattan style but nothing distinctive that would give me a clue as to where I am. I try to read the street signs but they’re illegible and I can’t make out what they say so things haven’t gotten any less strange.

Even though I have no idea where to go I’m getting anxious just standing around on a barren sidewalk so I start walking these peopleless streets in the hopes that maybe something will happen. I keep walking right for what feels like ten minutes before I start to hear a rumbling noise. It’s low at first like a car motor starting while you’re several feet away before picking up to become this all encompassing noise and then I feel the rumble like what I imagine an earthquake to feel like. I close my eyes for a minute and then I notice that I’m outside the city in some kind of black void. All that rumbling must have been the city starting to move because it’s moving now while I’m a good few yards away in this void.

The city is the only source of light right now with nothing else but this vast darkness that I can feel myself slipping into like it’s water. It’s tangible behind me and I can feel myself sinking into it so I run. I run to get back into the city, back into the light before I drown in whatever this dark void is that I can feel trying to get around my entire body. I keep running for what feels like hours but don’t feel tired at all and my running is keeping the darkness somewhat off me. The city isn’t getting any closer; it keeps outpacing me no matter how hard I try to run after it.

Then all at once I feel a serious shortness of breathing and start wheezing and coughing. Naturally I have to stop because I can’t breathe and all I can do is utter an “oh crap” as I drown and everything goes black. In shock I inexplicably open my eyes and I look around noticing I’m in my room, my actual room at home. I fumble for my phone and it says 11:00 a.m., I was asleep and that was all a dream. A dream I've had a few times over the past couple months with some variations on it. I’m not fully sure what it means, maybe just a reflection on my life. It doesn't make much sense and I don’t feel like spending too much time analyzing it besides I’ve got to get my day started. Stopping to think about the past too much just brings me down.

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