Flash Fiction / Sound Asleep

     Micky did not understand it,nor could he have explained it, but he had wakened inside his dream. That is, he was fully awake--of that he had no doubt--yet he was dreaming.He was ten feet in the air, flying over Grandma’s driveway. Arms stretched out before him,belly down, his legs trailing behind him, like on the Superman TV show. He was flying! He was in the air, moving along like a helium-filled balloon in the breeze. So, he knew he was dreamig. He had to be.He was not able to fly when he was awake--no, wait, he was awake right now--yes, but he was also dreaming.
     A thrilling sense of knowing pervaded his being. His stomach was filled with a delicious tingling.For a moment he questioned whether this was truly happening—how could it be? Concentrating on the impossibility of what he was doing nearly woke him up for real. Really awake, and not inside his dream. He bobbed in the air and almost fell.
     It was then that he noticed the quality of light around him. Not blinding, but bright, brighter than usual. And he knew he was dreaming. The certainty of this washed over him in waves of exhileration. And, he was flying! In his excitement, he started to rise higher in the air—and nearly woke himself up again. He had to be careful. He didn’t want to go too high. He was afraid of heights.
     The fear, like black smoke, permeated his knowing, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in his grandparents’ driveway, a small, bewildered boy wearing only his Fruit-of-the-Looms, the only thing he ever wore to bed. He pursed his lips and looked across the street at the trailor where he lived with his parents and siblings. He wasn’t ready to go home yet. He was having too much fun. If he woke up now, would he find himself at home in bed? Or would he be lying out here in the driveway? What would Grandma think when she came out to water the flowers in the morning?
     He noticed a Maxwell House coffee can under the drain sprout on the corner of his grandparents’ car port. He read the logo, Good to the last Drop, The letters flickered and rearranged themselves. It was the oddest thing, but then he remembered, he was dreaming. He raised his arms  and jumped back up into the air.
     Woo hoo, he was flying! He moved his arms and kicked his legs. It was like swimming. He would have to remember how he was doing it, so he could try it when he was back to regular.
     And with that, he woke up, or rather, he opened his eyes and was no longer dreaming.
     “Wow!” he exclaimed.
     In the bunk above him, his brother, Andy hissed, “You better not let Dad hear you!” After a moment, he added, “Where were you anyway? Did you go to the bathroom? I didn’t hear you or see you come back.”
     Micky asked, “Are we awake?”
     “What? You must be dreaming.”
     “No, if I was dreaming. I’d be flying, not in bed.”
     “You’re whacko, you nut! Go back to sleep.”
     The word ‘sleep’ echoed strangely and Micky closed his eyes to find himself flying over Grandma’s driveway once again. He heard Andy call, “Get over here, you dumbbell!”
     Micky saw that Andy was hiding in Grandma’s banana tree. He drifted over and positioned himself behind a stalk of ripe bananas. “Andy!” he said. “You’re in my dream!”
      ”How do you know it’s your dream? Maybe you’re in my dream.”
     “No way, Jose. If it was your dream, everything would be stupid.”
     “You mean like the sun shining at night, moron?”
     “You boys get out of my banana tree!”  It was Grandma! Now they were in trouble. The phone rang and woke them both up. They heard Mother answer it in the hall.
     “Hello? Hi, Ada.”
     Andy peered anxiously at Micky over the edge of the bunk. Ada was Grandma’s  name.
     “What?” Mom was asking. “Banana tree? Don’t be ridiculous. They’re both in bed, sound asleep.”