Chapter 17 - Nightmare

That night I had a dream that has been haunting me since my previous life. A recurring dream that I can never seem to escape. It's simple enough, I'm back in my house at the top of the stairs. As I turn around I see a large dark shadow of a figure gradually approaching me. Unsure why, I feel unsettled. Every inch of my body is on high alert and begs me to run, to not let it approach me. So that's what I do. I begin running down the stairs with my shaky, weak legs as fast as I can. Time seems to be stretching over miles and miles as these few seconds begin to feel like years. Hundreds of thoughts barge into my mind, refusing to let me find any peace. I end up falling to my knees at the bottom of the stairs but as I look back I see it fast approaching. Afraid that getting up would take away too much of my time I crawl into the living room where my family is - all except my father, he has never really been present in my dreams. They sit harmoniously together, laughing and watching TV as I yell at them. I yell and yell and yell, but the only response I get it my empty lungs. An wall invisible only to me, separates us and prevents my family from noticing the grave danger I am in. I'm yelling until tears are streaming down my face but even though I am crawling right in front of them, they remain oblivious to my struggle. As I turn around one last time, the figure touches my shoulder. With that, I wake in cold sweat. 

It's a dream that has followed me since I was 5 years old, through to my adulthood. In a way, I never really escaped my past trauma. My psychologist had told me that the figure was likely to be my subconscious view of my father. This dangerous being that I am constantly running from but never manage to escape. The perpetrator of all of the domestic abuse I witnessed, accounts too many in number for me to ever be able to recount them all. Although I could understand all of that, my brain was one part logical, the other part solely based on emotions. I could understand and yet I couldn't understand why I was so afraid. Angry at my weakness but begging myself to be understanding and stop lashing out at myself.

I sit up to see Elina calmly sleeping by my side. I turn the other way and get out of bed, slowly making my way to the garden to clear my mind in solitude. But mostly, to feel the air so that my nightdress can stop clinging to my skin from sweat. I sit on the steps, my bare feet touching the grass. To think my past would still haunt me to this day, that even where he was not, he has a hold on me. I laugh at myself, because there's nothing else to do. My laughter is always loudest when my mind is the loudest, and so I laugh uncontrollably. Most of all I laugh at how cruel life has been to me. Without me being aware, tears start streaming down my face, in anger I aggressively wipe at them with the sleeve of my cardigan. Why am I crying? It angers me that I still allow something from so long ago affect me. Have I not grown at all? 

I suppose I will always be the little child I was back then. Evidenced by how even the sound of yelling or things breaking can make me shrivel back up, too afraid to do anything. I never did grow to change, just to mask my fear behind an extremely brave facade. I keep my voice down, unwilling to let anyone see me as I sob in silence. Seeing how small I still am sickens me, it claws at my throat and refuses to let me breathe. The sound of glass shattering is ringing in my ears and I cannot ask these memories to stop coming back or I will have no reason to feel like this. Isn't it so very strange? How I wish to be free of it all and yet I feel like I need my past to validate how I feel in the present? How I want to be better but am so afraid of what that would mean, of who I would be without all of my struggles and pain? Once again, Loneliness has come to sweep me into his arms. He is a loyal companion who never complains when I cheat on him with the company of others. What am I if not a pretender? 

I have suffered too much and yet not enough. My pain tantamount to the sadness I have allowed to grow within others. Let this be my retribution. Let me suffer for self-gratification. I long to be someone unlike my father, unlike my mother. Let sadness grow inside me until its branches tear through my body. I need scars to prove my suffering, I need scars to prove my healing. I suppose spiralling is a good word. I am spinning out of control, losing my ability to hold onto anything. I cannot reach out my hand and hold onto reality, I cannot hold on to others, I cannot hold onto myself. I am a half written prose, discarded for its incompletion. I am thoughts running amuck during desperate times with all too many questions but no answers. I am half way, always half way.

So I sit alone. The cold, rough trees keep me company. The wind running its fingers through my hair and pushing me away all the same - a constant game of push and pull. I hide in the darkness as the shadows of the trees cover me entirely, afraid of what complete exposure might mean, unaware of what it means to step out of the shadow of others. I scream so loud that nothing comes out. I am sure the world can feel the weight of my heart, causing me to sink until I am one with the earth - a burial during my wake. And when I scream, it is silent. But I'm sure the world can feel the weight of it all. Why else do the trees shake at the change in tones of my cries?

My tears have dried with the passing wind. It brushes against me to tell me not to cry, it's gentle hands caress my face in reassurance as it wipes my tears off my cheeks. I remain seated, my eyes closed and my head facing the sky. I allow myself to do nothing but feel. It is something that gives me peace. I feel my hair swaying with the wind, the grass tickling my feet as it dances in the wind. The birds sing me a lullaby to prevent more nightmares and I - I just bask in it all. In this moment. In the proof that I am no longer where I used to be. I have come so far and even if I am not yet where I wish to be, I can recognise that I am no longer my previous self. I have always given myself space to feel my emotions, regardless of how negative, so that I may empty myself and start anew. That way, once all of my tears have been shed, I can come back to reality and the chain around my neck can be a little less suffocating. 

Oftentimes I can do nothing but run away, no strength to fight back until I have armed myself with courage to continue to live. If I cannot run, I will crawl away, but I will escape. Eventually. One day I will breathe in the fresh air and know the grass really is greener on the other side.

After the birds have finished singing to me, and I am certain that I feel safe enough within myself, I make my way back to bed. Everyone remains asleep and this short moment of weakness is a secret between the moon and I. As I snuggle back in, Elina rolls towards me, almost knowingly. She places her face near my neck as she lightly puts her arm over my waist and hugs me. She comforts me without trying, without knowing, and for both her and myself, I hope this time I can sleep a little easier.