My Life In Dreams: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It's the same rock I remember, but the building was completely different. The rocks were pushing through my shoes and it was uncomfortable to walk. I'd walked this parking lot a thousand times and I never got used it. The people were the same, but also different. I felt my legs and they were shaky. My body was filled with tension, but not fear. Why was I here? What was I doing back? I told myself I'd never go back. What happened?

Thinking back, I recall Joline had phoned me and asked me to come... I missed her so much. Last thing I remember was saying OK, I'll be there. Be where? Where was I? The sight of all my friends makes my heart melt, almost bringing tears to my eyes. I see Trisha, Peter and Morgan, yet their faces are different - reflexive. Walking slowly and steadying my steps, I took in the scene that surrounded me. Familiar faces lined the parking lot and they were staring at me as though I was a foreign entity. Don't they remember me? The way I used to act, maybe I wouldn't want to remember me, either.

Without a word spoken, they raised their arms and pointed in the direction of the unfamiliar building. With hesitancy, I turned to see what they were seeing; The Enchantress stood in the bay window calling me with her eyes. She is exceptionally beautiful in every way and it's unexplainable how her expressions make you feel comfortable even when you're not sure you can trust her. Without another thought, I walked toward the door that would bring me into the building.

Unlike the soothing heat of the sun, the building was cold, damp and dark. Regardless of the windows lining the walls, there was no sunshine. I looked to the right and saw her standing there. I felt at ease, trusting her immediately regardless of my pragmatic mind. How does she do that? She smiled widely and reached out her hand for me to take. I walked toward her and took a seat in the window. Why am I here? I thought I told you I'd never come back. With placating words she replied Honey, you know this is where you belong. You were never meant to be alone in the world. It was then that I understood she'd used my friends to get me here; she knew what was important to me. I felt my throat close and suddenly I realized I had no conscious control over my thoughts.

Coming from what seemed to be nowhere, The Abuser made his presence known. I felt my heart stop. Breathe! BREATHE! my thoughts went from zero to crazy... What was I doing here? How did she trick me again? My fingernails dug deep into the wood seat I was sitting on as if that would secure me. Hello sweetheart, he said with eerie flavored tone. Say something! Get the fuck out of here! yelled my mind, but I couldn't move. He stepped closer to put his hand on my shoulder pretending he could calm me. All at once, every synapse in my body collided together, I jumped up on the seat with one fell swoop and I opened my mouth to scream... GET AWAY FROM ME!

Stepping back calmly, he brought his hands down and clasped them together in front of his body and gave me a smug look. You haven't changed much. Come talk with me, I want to ask you something. The Enchantress just stared and smiled, as if her mind was so far gone, she didn't have the comprehension to know I was in danger. Reaching out her hand to help me off the seat, she explained This is part of your healing... go with him. I was having a hard time believing talking to the The Abuser was going to be healing.

Steadying my heaving body, I stepped down only to make it clear he may not touch me. Loathing welled up within me from my toes to my ears. I could feel the heat in my face radiating. With a disgusted look on my face, I told him to get on with whatever he wanted to tell me, all the while wondering why she would lead me right to him, wasn't she supposed to protect me? After wandering for a while, we started to walk to a part of the building where the view of outside was obstructed and claustrophobia set in. My body started to shake. He finally spoke, controlling the mood, I want you to come back and live with me. I froze, now shaking more violently, my stomach was starting to do that thing it always does; burn. Seeing as I couldn't look him in the face, I simply looked off in the distance and said as if uninterested, Too bad. You don't get to call the shots anymore, I make the decisions for my life now.

Always with an inferior tone, he commented You realize you had a choice all those years, right? It's your fault we're all miserable you stupid bitch. I snapped my head up as if ice cold water had just been thrown in my face, all nerves left my body and I cracked. I was so furious, I didn't know if I should slap the shit out of him or just run like hell. I decided to leave the piece of shit standing there instead of giving him any more pleasure of my attention.

I ran back into the other room where The Enchantress stood looking coy as if my life were a game. I stopped, taking in my surroundings. The building grew ever darker and cold; those who had lined the parking lot were gone - did I imagine it? Was I going crazy? Before I could finish my thoughts, she answered them... You, my child, are lost in this world and I will forever know your weakest link. You might be leaving now, but you'll be back.

With my face down buried in my pillow, I felt the tears flowing from my eyes. My body was laid straight out with my elbows pinned to my side. My hands were grasping onto the pillow as if saving my soul. Of course my clothes were soaked and I just relaxed realizing it was another nightmare. The overwhelming sense of being controlled was filtering through my nerves. I pushed my body up with my arms, trying to come back to consciousness. Thank God I didn't go back. Reaching to find my cell phone, I wondered what time it was. It must have been almost time to get up anyway as I could see the slight dawning of the sun through my sheer window treatments. Sitting on my knees, I stepped out of bed and walked out onto my balcony deciding I'd take in the sun rise over the bay.

Why was life only peaceful when I was awake?

My Life In Dreams

4 years old

Chapter 2

His mocking eyes were staring at me in the rear view mirror. Arms crossed, shoulders back, chin up; he was in control and he knew it. I hated the petite features on his face when I knew the evil within him was not petite. He'd had hold of my life since before I was born; I often wonder if he knew what he was doing from the beginning. His curly, thinning hair always looked so stupid; clearly no one had the guts to tell him. I'm guessing this isn't really the time. I needed to figure out how I was going to get out of my car alive.

The winding curves on this downhill roller coaster of a mountain were too much for my 77', light blue, Dodge Plymouth. Only understanding by an impossibly tight wheel, there was no power steering. The wheel didn't feel strong enough to hold my death grip. The tighter I wrapped my fingers around it, the more my sweaty palms slid down the sides. I kept seeing what seemingly were rock walls whipping by my peripheral vision, causing the lump in my stomach to grow that much heavier with every tighter curve.

The seats were vinyl and because my whole body was drenched with sweat, I kept sliding around, not able to keep my foot on the break. It wasn't working anyway, so I'm not sure why I was so desperate to pound on it with every fiber of my being. My life was at stake; again. All my muscles were tightened further with ever turn. In the midst of my panic, I'm trying to remember when I'd felt this fear before; it didn't matter, it was gripping my body with fury.

With a slow, soft, controlled tone {Mr. Malefic} let out, I told you I'd come back for you when you were least expecting it. I warned you about leaving. My heart was pounding so hard, I could physically see my chest moving through my shirt. My thoughts were scattered, I thought I'd moved far enough away that he wouldn't know where I lived. I promised myself I'd be careful, where did I go wrong?! Too many people know where I am. I'm so stupid. With all of my strength, I kept myself from looking in the mirror; knowing he would see the overwhelming fear.

My eyes were starting to blur and I couldn't see the road in front of me. My body started to no longer sweat and shake, but was becoming numb. I didn't have the strength to turn the wheel any longer; what was happening to me? This couldn't be the end! He couldn't win! I'd worked so hard to live after what I thought was my death, only to die at the hands of this disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man? I started to scream, yet I didn't hear anything coming out of my mouth. My eyes darted back to the mirror; he was gone. That son of a bitch figured out how to get out of the car! Why was this happening to me?!

Before I could think, I simply let go of the steering wheel. The car obeyed my command by driving straight over the cliff that I'd so vehemently tried with all my power to avoid for what seemed like hours. I laid my head back on the seat, closed my eyes and gave up. Just before the car hit the bottom; my body jolted straight up and I made a sound comparable to a child desperate for help. I was alive.

The room looked so dark and it was as quiet as when I had fallen asleep. Nothing had moved; all was the same with the world. My breathing was heavy and my clothes were drenched. My sheets needed to be washed for the second time that week and it was only Wednesday. I felt alone; no, lonely. Where was everyone and how had my life come to this; sitting alone in a dark apartment, surrounded by a sweat soaked bed wondering if I should try and go back to sleep for the fear of another nightmare.

I decided against it. Crawling to the other side of the bed, I got up only to feel my bare feet melting into the soft carpet. Once I stripped my clothes off, I found my trusty, consoling robe that a friend of mine bought me for my birthday just before I left PA. Her words were, Whether you're here in Pennsylvania, at your dad's house or in a strange city, a robe always makes you feel at home. She was right.

The light of my computer was blinking from the living room and I walked toward it. Taking my routine position on the couch, I opened the laptop that held the secrets of my life. Opening the file named 'Book', I was comforted by the knowledge that this writing therapy would pull me back to the reality of where I was and where I was going.

Here we go... My Story

I'm foregoing Not Me Monday today for the simple fact that I haven't uploaded my pics of the weekend yet {or my new hair cut, which is starting to even annoy me b/c I keep saying I'm going to post it and I haven't because I haven't uploaded the pix. So there.}

As said, I'm finally writing my story. Everyone has one. This is mine.

Chapter 1

The image of my father standing in his pajama pants and gray t-shirt caused me to cry out in terror. I fell to my knees, face in hands, trying to scream all the while heaving to catch my breath. My body was shaking and my stomach clenched to that of a thousand sit-ups. They had possession of him and regardless of my cries, my father wouldn’t look at me. There was nothing I could do. I searched the crowd for a familiar face; any familiar face and to my devastation, I only saw hundreds of mechanical looking people standing in a circle holding hands. Surrounded by a large warehouse, lights shone from every direction as if we stood on a platform meant for stage. In the middle, raised slightly above the sea of robots, there was a large guillotine. It was a piercing sound, the chanting. Loud and strong, they kept saying over and over, “Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.”

Fear overtook my body and I finally snapped out of my trance. I lifted my heavy legs and feet and ran to him, pushing through the locked hands and touched him on his shoulder. He turned to see me, not moved by the emotion in my eyes. His eyes were blank and he possessed a smile that wasn’t fitting of him. I grabbed his hands and pulled them up to chest level, pleading with him, “Don’t let them do this, I need you! You can’t leave me here alone, you’re the only dad I've got. I can't live without you. Why are you letting them do this?!” I stood and waited what seemed like minutes for his response. Finally he let out with a staunchly lifeless tone, “Anna, it’s my time. They’ve heard from God. If I don't listen to what they're telling me, your life, your children's lives and their children's lives will be in danger of a curse that cannot be undone."

I could feel my body flare up into a sweaty panic. The fact that I couldn’t make a sound told me there was nothing I could do about it and that sent my body into an even deeper state of panic. My teeth clenched together, grinding hard; the pain was too much, but I had to try to convey my anger. Frustration was exploding throughout my nervous system and my fingernails were digging deep into my hands. It was the sound of a truck honking its horn while it sped down the road that so startlingly broke me from my sleep. Another nightmare.

It was 5:32 a.m. and the sun hadn’t donned my window, yet. I was alone in a strangely new apartment. Sitting up slowly, I pushed my body up with my weak arms and pressed my back against the cool wall, bringing me back to the present moment. Images of the nightmare set in and complete devastation welled up inside me. I resumed heaving empty breaths, trying to compose my anxious body. I reached down with slow, definite movements, pulling the covers away from my sweat drenched body and crawled off the bed, hands first, fearing my shaking, weak legs wouldn’t hold me. I needed to find my cell phone. Only his voice would assure me it was just a dream.

Concentrating on the number of rings, I tried calming my breathing. My heart was pounding about 160 beats per minute and I feared I wouldn’t be able to get my words out. A groggy voice answered the phone – mom. I told her I’d had another nightmare and needed to talk to dad. She didn’t ask. This wasn’t the first time I’d called at an off hour needing peace and reassurance. The routine of all this was making me angry, but this was my life and the acceptance of it wasn’t coming easily.

It had been a year, three months and 9 days since the Great Break and I thought for sure it would all be over by now. Apparently not. It was like a cruel joke that they followed me around in my memories, invaded my dreams and spoke to me in my thoughts. This was supposed to be my life now. Was moving to a completely foreign city not enough? Was leaving everyone and everything I’d ever known behind me worthless? Were the endless nights crying myself to sleep too easy? What more could I do? How much longer must I pay the price for your mistakes? I’d asked myself these question a million times, never to receive an answer, only more confusion. People have told me "Just get over it. It's the past. It's over. Move on." What the fuck do you think I'm trying to do? I can't help what happens in my sleep and it lives with me during my days.

His voice was tired, “Hello?” My breath shook as I answered, “Sorry Dad.” I took another deep shaky breath. “You know I don't care, Anna. You can call me anytime. That's what dad's are for.” I could hear the smile in his voice and as always it was filled with peace and all the sincere care of a father who loved his daughter. I knew this and never doubted its truth. I proceeded gasping for air, trying not to break down, but it didn’t work. The sound of his voice was a continuous reminder that I’d hurt him so many years ago. “I had another nightmare.” I said, trying to steady my voice, “They were going to kill you and you told me it was your time and to just let you go.” I knew in my mind it was ridiculous, but the very depths of my soul felt the emotions so dominantly. “Anna, no one is going to kill me. No one can tell me it’s my time to die. I’m alive!” I couldn't help but chuckle; he was kidding with me, knowing it was what I needed.

My heart sank at the thought that I was acting like such a child. My body and mind were starting to wake up and the very practical, realist side of my personality was starting to feel really silly. Of course it was just a nightmare. I was 27 years old, calling my dad because I had a nightmare. I needed help. The Post Traumatic Stress Disorder wasn’t going away. I’d started my Master’s in Counseling 3 months prior to this night; so much for being a counselor. I couldn’t even sleep through the night without needing to crawl in bed with mom and dad. Some would say it was justified, but I still heard the expectations of others to 'just get over it'. I didn’t know if the world would see my story through eyes of empathy or judgment and that terrified me. It was my story, not theirs and I wouldn’t blame them for not understanding. Clearly I needed my own counselor. I called one later that morning.