He was eighteen years old in his dream and heard the dispossessed voice as the train's boarding was announced. It seemed both families jumped up at once, and he and Gerard were swept from embrace to embrace, hands clapped on shoulders, as happy goodbyes were made. His grandfather offered a solemn hand, pride shining in the old brown eyes, and his voice broke as he whispered, "Con cuidad, nieto," and covered the young hand with his old one. Take care, grandson. He hugged his grandmother, and she leaned back, gripped his arms, and studied his face as if to memorize something that after today would forever be changed. He was bending down to retrieve his suitcase when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw her standing on the seat he had just vacated, and they were eye to eye for once, because she was so small. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her soft lips to his quickly, almost fiercely, before she pulled back and regarded him with serious blue-green eyes. "Take care of my brother, creep," she said. He ruffled her short black hair, and his hand lingered at the wide dark-auburn streak at her temple, he replied, "I will, Sera, I promise."
The dream faded, and he would not remember it. He never did. The last thought he had before he woke to full consciousness was that he had broken his promise.