nightmare, as defined by Merriam-Webster, means: a frightening dream that usually awakes the sleeper
“It’s a long gray road,” I say, but those words aren’t descriptive enough –
The road is unending, unforgiving, and so gray it’s almost black,
met feet feel like they’re sinking and hold me in place.
So every step takes every bit of strength I can muster,
“What else?” my psychiatrist asks.
If she knew what else then I may never be allowed to leave, yet I have to tell her something, “There are trees lining both sides,”
and it’s not completely false.
There are trees but it’s dense enough to block out the light and the wind, these trees bend overhead and trap me, essentially, from ever leaving.
“Is there more?” as if the question really needs posed, these are my nightmares, there’s always more,
“Red eyes are between the trees,” hundreds of them, more monsters than I can even count;
I thik that they’re vampires but I”m not sure why because they never come out.
They just stay behind the treeline, unblinking and silent, I haven’t a clue what they want from me but they’re all always watching me.
Sometimes, if I make direct eye contact, I can almost move more easily, but the second I look away, I am certain I slow down again;
“Is there someone who is asking you for something, like a favor or some assistance,” but this is another thing that doesn’t need clarifying.
I’m always doing for others like it’s my job but it doesn’t bother me at all, so I tell him “No,” because if I were to say ‘yes’ instead then he’ll look for some anomaly that doesn’t exist.
He looks over his notes and asks how I feel during the nightmare in my sleep state, in the moment when I’m on the road,
and for once that’s an easy thing to answer, “confused and curious,” I offer simply.
When I do let the curiosity bubble in my mind, I end up scared because whatever is watching me doesn’t want me to know it’s there,
which I only know because I have tried to get into the trees, accepting the idea that I would die in real life if I died in my dream,
A fallacy I don’t actually believe, but I was fine with it, and I pursued the red eyes –
nothing –
I couldn’t even move, I don’t think, or at least I was stuck walking place.
“Curious,” he hums, though I don’t think he’s repeating me, I think he’s actually saying that my curiosity is curious, so I’m preparing myself for probing questions where I answer without answers,
instead, he just repeats himself a couple more times before looking expectantly at me.
I have stared down this road, tried to escape, for weeks upon weeks, and it’s come to me year after year, literally a bad dream I can’t escape;
I can’t breathe when I wake and find myself in a mental tunnel of questions and worries, constant analysis of what was happening in my mind and what all of this means,
I never needed a professional to interrogate me about this reoccurring nightmare;
The only thing I can say with certainty about this nightmare after these many years reliving it is this:
I am both scared of everything and of nothing, simultaneously, and I believe this will be, perhaps, my downfall.
“Is this the only nightmare that you keep having, or have others repeated themselves?”
We both know the answer to this question, I think, but I don’t dare snark him for asking since it is the job I pay him to do,
however, I don’t want to tell about him about the other two, which are more grotesque and frightening.
No, I won’t tell him just yet, but I won’t lie either, not lie completely at least:
“Not that I can recall today,” the sigh comes from me easily, but only because I am relieved to not have to talk about the nightmares stalking me throughout my timeline,
and this ends our session for the day – I am dismissed;
Off to go home, off to go to bed, off to see this damn road again.
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