Sink.
19 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
I had the most terrifying dream last night. I woke up at a start to pitch blackness. I checked my surroundings to make sure I was awake. I wanted proof that the dream was over, that all the horrible images I had seen in my head, the things I had to feel and the scenes I had witness had vanished and were out of reach and hopefully never to be seen again. I HAD TO MAKE SURE IT WASN’T REAL AND IT WAS ALL FANTASY, ALL IN MY HEAD, ALL OUT OF REACH. I can’t even describe what the dream was like, because merely remembering it makes me want curl into a ball and cry. I can’t say it because it feels like a taboo, like it’s too horrible to even speak of. The words I fear to utter, to speak, to ever repeat in fear of it coming true. The absurdity of it all, lies all in the fear of my heart. And yet, I can’t bring myself to say it. Because I can’t bring myself to believe it would ever happen. I can’t begin to describe what it felt like in the dream, the burning hatred, the anger, the grief. Tears were flowing down my cheeks and my words came out slurred; I was in a state of shock, bewilderment, loss. Nothing made sense; I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run, to fight, and to cry my heart out. It wasn’t anything like being chased or attacked, it could hardly compare to the hardship I have felt before. The dream had taken hold of me, gripped me and dragged me into oblivion, sucking me into this fantasy, this horrendous fictional tale that was unraveling before me; horrible and uncontrollable.
I go back to where I was before the dream; conscious, awake and alive. There I am in bed again, awake once more, having lived this treachery in my dream but shaking myself awake to find it slowly slip away, like sand between my fingers and coming to a realization, with such relief, that none of it was real. The images however, bits and pieces, fragments of the dream were still stuck in my memory, and I began to cry. I clutched my blanket and sunk my head in my pillow, aware that I was fully awake now, no longer dreaming. I began to cry. My shoulders shook and it wasn’t the type of crying where tears simply rolled down your cheeks, but more like the kind of crying where someone is a victim of having witnessed a tragedy. I was traumatized. My mouth spread across my face and I found myself whimpering in sorrow, tears covering my cheeks. I stopped abruptly and for a second, the silence engulfed me, there seemed to be a possibility my dream had been real and I had miraculously ended up in the comfort of my warm, comfortable bed.
I had to check. I had to hold someone. I had to make sure it wasn’t real and that everybody was breathing. I slowly creeped into the bathroom, and saw my mom laying in bed. All I wanted to do was crawl in with her, so if I had another dream I could find myself holding her, and I would be certain I was back in reality. There was no room in the bed, but I stood there and watched. Hurriedly, feeling relieved but still slightly frightened and alone, I went back to my bed and dissolved into deep sleep; the kind where you dream of nothingness and nothing more.
Later on, it dawned on me. I had quite often had nightmares about myself being hurt, chased, as well as attacked. But the one thing I had never dreamt of properly was the loss of a loved one. Death itself to me can’t be compared to losing someone you’ll always love. All I can do is pray that that nightmare never comes to life.
chitter chatter pitter patter