Star Revelations

The truth will set you free when you find out who you are and why you are here. But be prepared to see the darkness and light. So, keep on keeping on, as your mission is revealed. You win when you endure to the end.

The deafening roar of a boiler room generator shook Diana as she tried to reach out to the frail woman in front of her. Diana was desperate to save the woman from being sucked into its air intake pump. The woman’s lips quivered in terror as she strained towards Diana. Their fingertips touched for an instant, and then she was gone. Diana recoiled in horror as she recognized the woman.

Mommy.

A siren blared over the din of this terrifying ordeal and jolted Diana from her sleep. She blinked in confusion as the car pulled to the shoulder. A firetruck marked Whittier FD rushed past in the blare of noise and smear of flashing red and blue lights.

Brock was looking at her. “Are you all right?”

Several ambulances turned out of a side road up ahead and followed behind the fire crews. In the outside rearview mirror, Diana saw the lights of several other emergency vehicles.

She glanced about. “Where are we?”

Brock read the GPS and pointed past the front of the car. “The Solara Hills Center is a mile that way.” Smoke billowed from behind an office complex, but it was not clear where the fire was. Brock turned on his small police radio and adjusted the frequency knob. A woman’s calm voice recited a series of codes. “Hold on!” Brock said.

“What?” Diana asked, confused.

Brock stepped on the gas, and tires screeching the sedan darted onto the road. The acceleration pressed Diana into her seat. The car’s engine growled as they sped up the road. The cloud of smoke widened and then towered over them. Brock swerved around the corner onto a scene that made Diana’s blood turn cold with dread.

Emergency crews sprinted toward the entrance of the office complex. Ambulances and firetrucks crowded against one another. Behind a sign that said Solara Hills Center, smoke and flames poured from the building.

Diana gasped, “Oh my God, no!”

A police officer waved at them, and Brock pulled up short in front of a temporary barricade. “Stay here,” Brock said and bolted from the car. He waved his credentials and rushed to the cop. Brock signaled that Diana was to remain in the car. He covered his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, then stooped under the barricade and disappeared behind one of the many emergency vehicles.

Across the street, on a grassy lawn, police officers gathered into a safe area people who, judging from their casual dress and robes, were the residents. Diana studied their faces, hoping to find someone who could be her mother.

Did her mother survive? Diana fumbled with her seat belt and climbed out. Sirens and shouts through bullhorns echoed about her. Heart pumping and energized by an adrenaline rush, she ran limping towards the crowd. Thick, pungent smoke stung her nostrils, and she clapped a hand over her nose and mouth.

A thought rang through her mind. They did this.

That was the dream’s message.