CLEAN DREAMS

The storm rolled in, and the rain hit the concrete hard. The water sloshed on the sidewalk when cars drove through it, and you could tell by how furious the rain was, that it was cold.

It’s because of this that I begin to regret taking my clothes to the laundromat[ON1] . The currently tumbling clothes in the dryer that are almost warm, and toasty will be soggy and radiating mold instead of Tide.

It’s dark outside, but it’s 4:27 p.m. on a November afternoon. I’m not too sure if it’s dark because of the storm or because it’s near the end of the year.

I look at the time remaining on the dryer screen and sit down in an empty seat to wait the last ten minutes for my clothes. It might be pointless, but I’m not wasting money.

“Why would you come here today?”

I looked up rapidly, my heart beating almost as if it was about to jump out of my chest. Here I thought I was alone. A girl looks down at me as she sits on a washing machine. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s raining. It’s dark here, why in the world would you come now?”

“I didn’t know it was going to rain.”

“But it’s been raining all day.”

I paused at this thought. I had no recollection of today. Just the washing machine, the dryer, the detergent I used, hating the rain. I don’t remember how much I used, how I got here, when I got here, or where I even am. Am I just having bad brain fog?

“Maybe you’re just having an alternate reality experience. Apparently, [ON2] that happens to people a lot.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mm…” she looked at the floor with so much sadness and barely whispered, “I can’t tell you.”

It was just me and this seemingly insane, young lady[ON3] . She had the audacity to question me, almost mock me, and she couldn’t even tell me her name.

“Anger will not get you anywhere. You’re washing your sadness away. Anger can’t be washed, unfortunately. You have tried many times. Your anger needs to be spoken, not screamed. You repress it consistently and therefore, get you nowhere.”

“Who are you? What is this? Where am I and what the hell are you talking about? Is this a prank? One of those videos for some kind of fame or something?”

“That would be absurd because technology does not work here.” This young lady who seemed bubbly became some sort of all knowing wisdom holder. The girl that spoke so freely became so somber. Her smile had faded and all sense of her color felt dull and gray. The child in her that she let out so easily had dimmed just as fast. [ON4] She spoke with a stern voice and concise words.

The machine beeped loudly, letting me know my clothes were dry, but when I pulled open the circular door, there was nothing in there anymore. It was empty. Empty, but wet.

“The machine is you. Inside, you feel empty. But even though you’re empty or feel empty, you are sad. You’re angry. You try to wash away these negative feelings because you think that they’re useless and nothing but a burden, making you a burden. But every time you come here, you fail to do so. You cannot erase these parts of you. You must deal with them and heal from them so that you can move on.”

“But I don’t know how.” That’s when I was[ON5] brought back. Now I’m a twelve-year-old boy, helping my dad do the laundry. I’m pulling out the clothes and see my best friend, Bunny. My best friend was a rabbit plushie, an inanimate object that couldn’t reciprocate because emptiness was better than anger and feeling sad at the lack of effort. Bunny was an object that I cried to and wailed to at night when I was all alone. His eyes were missing now, and his once-white fur was pink. My companion was ruined, and I was sad and I was angry.

“YOU RUINED HIM!”

I was not consoled. I was slapped instead for screaming at an adult, for raising my never heard voice. I was embarrassed in front of everyone who decided to wash their clothes on a rainy summer Tuesday.

“You’re a boy not a girl. You’re supposed to be a man. Stop playing with stupid toys and grow the hell up. I want something to be proud of, not the embarrassment of a son I have. Stop crying and man up, we have things to do.” He ripped my companion in half with no care for the tears or the hand mark on my face.

I didn't even get to say goodbye to my friend. I was supposed to feel nothing and be a man.

I looked back up at the girl in front of me, crying uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry. It’s okay to cry. I might not be here all the time, but when you visit again, I’ll listen.” She hugged me, and it was a comfort I had forgotten.

Is this what it means to no longer be alone? I sobbed until my eyes were dry and burning. The salty sadness was all over my face and her shirt now. “Thank you for letting me cry.”

“You’re welcome.” She handed me a laundry bag; it was light and considerably small. “Would you mind putting this to wash for me? I have to go now.”

“Sure.” 

I felt the rush of cold air as she left while I opened the door to another washing machine and stuck my hand in the bag and gasped. I pulled out a white stuffed rabbit, white not pink, with both his eyes. I hugged him until I cried. That was when I woke up in my bed, sweating and cold, panting for air, tears running down my face, yet again, alone.

I only know that you mean “to the laundromat” because I know that is one of your prompts.

Taking them out to wash now could mean you’re taking them out of the hamper and putting them in the washer at your house.

I recommend just saying, “… taking my clothes to the laundromat.”

I think the girl says this. If I’m right then you need to start a new paragraph.

Two people cannot act or speak in the same paragraph.

You can use the words “young lady” to describe her, and that will let us know that she’s young.

But you can’t ever refer to her just as a “lady” because it has a different meaning.

I suggest rewriting it.

“It was just me and this seemingly insane young lady.”

It’s uses fewer words and is more clear.

Explore this more. Give me more description here. All I need is 1 - 2 more sentences.

Don’t worry about word count because you can tighten it up later.

Even though you switched time, you can’t switch tense.

Stay in the past.

That was when I was brought back. I was a twelve-year-old boy helping my dad do laundry. I was pulling out the clothes. I saw my best friend, Bunny, a rabbit plushie. I cried and wailed into Bunny at night when I was all alone...

Is this the young lady back in the laundromat?

If so, please make sure to refer to her as either “the girl” or “the young lady” because when you don’t use a name, you have to create a “label” for them so the reader always knows. If not, I’ll still think you’re in the flashback when you were 12.

I’m assuming the protagonist said this.

Eliza Grullon is passionate about fantasy, fiction, and all things mystical. She gained her love of writing from the foundation of it all, the idea that the worlds you create are real enough because you created them. She's a hard-working RPG enthusiast who thrives on coffee and the love of her two cats. Eliza currently resides in Brooklyn, NY.