Slumber didn’t come easy for Teresa Mordova. Many a night she was awaken from a dream of crisp white sheets fist fighting their way for a stance in her dreams. The wrinkle fist fights were like watching ghost arms fighting for which one gets to take over the dream.
The fist fights the wrinkles in the sheets seemed to want to tell her something. While she wasn’t sure what it meant, if anything, she felt uneasy and restless while watching wrinkles appearing like waves during a violent storm at sea fighting over their territory. It was as if she had felt she was being attacked by some unknown force beyond her control.
As the waves of fighting wrinkles would appear in each of her first few dreams marching their way towards a greater cause. Teresa couldn’t help but feel their was another kind of danger waiting in her white sheet and wrinkle fighting dream.
As the dream progressed, the wrinkles seemed to calm from their wave fighting events. The crisp white sheets would start turning into a neighborhood. The crisp white sheets wrinkles would start turning one wrinkle into a white house with a porch. Another wrinkle turns to a tree. Another house from a wrinkle forms and more trees. Once the houses trees formed, a white picket fence appears from other wrinkles as if to tell her she was watching calmness appear after a sea storm had passed.
After the white picket fence appeared from the fighting wrinkles, a white sidewalk with a curb appears from the wrinkles like a zit right before prom. On the corner, there is a fire hydrant that appeared from no where, as it pushed its way through the concrete like molten lava spewing from a volcano. The fire hydrant was the only item with colors of red and steel gray.
The feeling of heat from the fire hydrant released an eerie fog across Wrinkle Sheet Lane. As the fog continue over the houses and trees, the wrinkles fight over the making of the street.
The wrinkles can’t decide to be cement, asphalt, gravel or dirt for the street of Wrinkle Sheet Lane. As the crowd of wrinkles shout at each other, arms and hands appear holding tree limbs, pipes, and lumber flailing away at each other. As the riot ensues over the making of the street, sweat from the Teresa drips onto a house as if rain failing on a cool spring day sending the rioting wrinkles into retreat. Once awaken, Teresa feels shaken from the scene of the wrinkle riot over the building of the street.
On another night, Teresa starts dreaming of the neighborhood built from the wrinkles of the crisp white sheets. Rather than starting from scratch like the dream had done in the past, it continued from the last time the dream had ended.
While the dream started with the bright white neighborhood of trees, houses, white picket fences, a sidewalk, a fire hydrant, and wrinkles fighting over the street, dirt has taken place of the fighting white wrinkles on the street. As the scene in the dream pans out like in a movie, dirt has taken over the pristine white yards. The yards have brown leaves, trash, dirt, and other debris strewn about.
Not even realizing people were living on Wrinkle Street Lane when the dreams began, Teresa awoke again feeling as if the residents of Wrinkle Sheet Lane had met their deaths. The pristine neighborhood now looked like a storm swept area. The neighborhood felt cold and dark as a winter’s night when winds would howl through the tall pine trees outside her window.
It’s as if the invisible ghostly figures that once lived on Wrinkle Sheet Lane had disappeared as fast as the dreams ended. While Teresa couldn’t see physical beings, she felt their presence like ghosts in flight around her head. This is what left the eeriest of feelings with Teresa to this day when she hears of death and destruction from some of the worst storms in today’s history.