I looked like a mentally deranged homeless person walking around in a probably stolen Chanel coat and an absurdly ridiculous pair of Mickey Mouse pajamas. I was getting weird looks from the evening commuters, and so I decided to walk down the shadier parts of Cali, where I wouldn't be judged by soccer moms pushing Chicco strollers.

There weren't much people around here, except stray cats and a few dead rats, but I was okay with it. I'd rather not have human contact for a while.

My fingers graze over harsh, graffiti covered walls as my eyes take in the myriad of colors that suddenly seemed to have faded from my life. I've never been to these parts before, too far from the safety of my area. 

But it was so beautiful.

It was an image of a woman crying. Everything about her seemed bleak, normal; but she was crying. Next to it, were the words: "Falling down is how we grow. Staying down is how we die."

'Poetic shit, yeah?'

I jump, gasping in alarm. It is an old woman, sitting a few feet behind me, on the steps of an abandoned building. She is frail and thin, her clothes are worn out, and when she smiles, she is toothless.

'Fallin' down is how we break our fuckin' bones. Stayin' down is how we survive. That guy who painted shit was a total wacko.'

She picks up an old Chinese takeaway carton, and I'm pretty sure I see cockroaches.

'C'mere.' She says, patting the ground next to her.

I want to turn and leave, but something makes me stay. 

'Gawd. Ya shouldn't be walkin' around 'ere wearin' these.' She fingers my coat with her grubby fingers, but much to my own surprise, I don't flinch.

'Is somethin' troublin' ya?'

My lip wobbles. 

'C'mon. Let 'em out.'

'Do you think love exists?'

Wow. If only my mom, or Tristan, or Leah, or Archer see me now. Look what I've become: I'm talking philosophy to a homeless old hag who smells like the dumpster.

'Aah. Love. He did a number on ya didn't he? Led ya on, told ya that ya were the one, held your hand and then turned his back on ya?'

I bite my lip. My eyes gloss over. 

'Sweet.' Her hand reaches for my palm, before she yelps away as if she was burnt.

'What the fuck!' Her eyes flash, before she grabs me by the shoulders. Her gaze burns into my own.

'It can't be.' She murmurs, shaking me in her hold. 'Listen quick, girl. Do you remember?'

My brain shuts down in fear. Gone was the frail old woman. She now held me with a strength she should never have.  'Remember what?'

'Anythin'. Somethin'. Have you had dreams?'

I back away from her in horror. How in the world does she know about the dreams?

She sees my shock and leans back, obviously at peace.

'Thank the lords, ya have. It's all goin' ta work out, now.'

I stand up in a fit, throwing my hands to the air. 

'What do you mean it's going to work out? Make it stop! My life's in shambles, everyone I love is tearing me apart. Dreams?! More like fucking nightmares!'

The woman looks at me for a split second like I've gone crazy before she throws her head back and ugly laughs. I almost think she's choking to death. 

'What? What's so funny?'

'I can't tell ya much, but trust me, none of this is goin' ta matter. And make it stop? Girl, ya still have no idea, do ya?'

I'm about to yell at her when she begins laughing again. 

'Ya think ya life's in shambles now, but darlin', the show's just begun.'

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