Premonitions
flash fiction | croissants
"Honestly, I don't remember many dreams." Troy was more interested in his croissant.
“Not even nightmares?” Amber was intent.
“I don’t have nightmares. I mean, I had them as a kid, but not since.” He took another sip of coffee.
“For me, sometimes they’re like premonitions.”
“Like what?”
“Well, last night I had a dream that we’d talk about dreams.”
“That’s not much of a premonition since you brought it up.”
“Sure, but it wasn’t just that.” Amber leaned back, studying him like a puzzle. “In the dream, you said ‘I don’t have nightmares.’ Word for word. And you dropped a croissant.”
Troy froze mid‑bite. “Okay, well… I don’t usually drop what I’m eating.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Amber, I think you’re… well, you’re a lot.” He mentally added her to the list of quirky exes -- the “white witch,” the astrologer. “And why are you so focused on nightmares?”
She leaned forward, her voice softer now. “In the dream, you told me you used to have one. The same one. Over and over.”
He blinked. “I never said that.”
“True.” She studied him for another long moment.
Troy opened his mouth to change the subject, but for a split second he slightly shuddered as a flicker of something forgotten from years past flashed by. A sense of unease settled over him. He glanced around the coffee shop -- mostly other college kids -- before lowering his voice and gaze. “Well, I used to have a recurring dream that I was being watched by some big eye.” He looked back up to Amber. “There was nothing scary about it. But I used to wake up freaked out.”
Amber leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. “Troy… in my dream, when you finally remembered, that’s when things started to change.”
“What are you talking about?” He took his last bite, which wasn’t as good as when he started.
“Things get better.” She placed her uneaten croissant back into the bag. “But something bad might happen first.”
“Bad?” Troy chuckled. “Like dropping a croissant that didn’t happen?”
Amber smiled.
“Let’s go.” He stood up, gathered the paper bag and unfinished coffee. “Enough dream talk.”
They walked to the door. Troy used his shoulder to push it open for Amber, balancing coffee in one hand, and the small bag in his other. The bag slipped, falling outside with a soft thud. Amber retrieved and held it for him as they continued down the sidewalk.
Above, a cloud briefly drifted into the shape of an unblinking eye before reforming.
Amber grabbed his hand with a slight squeeze. “You’ll be fine.”
by George Alger
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