Dream/State

My name is Madeline. I keep having this recurring dream, or should I say nightmare, after which I always wake up in a cold sweat. I think it’s from the time when I was 4 years old. This is how it goes-

I get down from the bright yellow school bus, books in hand, bag in tow,

A smile on my face. J

I open the front door to our house and enter with a cheerful shriek of” mommy, I’m home!”

I gaze in shock at the floor. All my dolls lay on the floor mutilated, violated. Their appendages have been cut through with some sort of sharp object. Some of their limbs are missing, some of their eyes are gouged out, some of their heads have been cut off.. And all of them are BLEEDING. The books fall from my hand in shock. I Cover my eyes and start to scream. The scream slowly builds up in volume. “aaaahhrrrRggggGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!

I rush towards my mommy’s bedroom, my feet seemingly moving on their own. I hastily push open the door and rush towards my mom. But something makes me stop in my tracks. My mom is kneeling on the floor. There is blood on her hands and her hair. I see some cuts in her hand and run towards her, wanting to make sure she’s okay. Wanting to take away her pain. “Mommy , are you okay? Who did this to you?” I ask frantically.

I too am on my knees now, her hands in my hands, her blood on my hands. HER BLOOD ON MY HANDS.

I wait for her reply, waiting for her to lift her face up so I can look into her eyes, those reassuring eyes. For I know that once I look into her eyes, everything will be fine. I know that she will wipe my tears and all will be good with the world.

She starts to mumble… the words make no sense.. slowly she lifts her face up.

I cant help it- I start to scream again “AAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!”

ONE of her eyeballs is missing from its socket. My mouth lies open in shock, the scream never-ending. I am still staring at the socket, where there is empty apace, filled with raw flesh and blood, where an eye should have been. With shock I avert my eyes from the sight. Suddenly, her hand reaches out and grabs my ponytail. With such force it pains like I have never felt pain before.

PAIN SUCH AS I HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED.

Still in shock, I grab her hands with my tiny fingers, trying to stop it but to no avail. I am wailing loudly now, crying my heart out. “Why is she doing this?” I am confused, but for now, the pain is all I can think about.

She drags me to the floor and then her other hand moves to the side, trying to reach for something. I look with tear-filled eyes and see the glint of a sharp knife. She grabs it and brings it towards herself… Now, I am screaming “ No, mommy, no !!!”

There is no expression on her face. Staring somewhere into the distance she brings it down, right into one of my eyes.

And she finally wakes up. Heavy breathing, her stomach in knots, body all wet from the sweat.

She throws the blanket over to the side, and gets off the bed. The way to the bathroom is dark, but she walks through it easily on memory, even though it has only been two nights since she’s here. The floor feels ice cold on her bare, wet feet. She welcomes the feeling, and takes off the rest of her clothes on the way, left on the floor, like discarded children.

After washing her face, she looks into the mirror. Looking at the deep dark circles, embedded beneath her eyes, black craters, and proof of a lack of satisfactory slumber. Without sleep, life slowly seems to be standing still…… still life…… a frozen painting… her, staring into the mirror… a snapshot saved in the mind.

Night is the only refuge now. Black as it is… night is the only solace.

Mornings, bright as they are, bring to light the harsh cruelty that is life… Mornings…

Mornings are meant for mourning. Mourning in black.

She sits on the couch and moans….