The Dream

I have this recurring dream. I’m laying on my back, and I’m staring up into complete darkness. I keep noticing these shapes and objects coming flying at me. They’re so close, I just know that if I sit up, just an inch, I’ll get decapitated, or worse. They’re coming at me from all directions. Left, right, and I’m just stuck laying down. It feels like a bed though, I seem to be comfortable. Night after night, I lay in fear, unable to move. I always want to shift my position, I have to move, but I can’t. I won’t. It’s too comfortable and I’m too afraid.

Then one night, the dream changes. Not only am I being bombarded, now something starts scratching at my foot. It itches like you can’t imagine. I can’t do anything though. I can’t sit up to scratch,  I can’t even move enough to pull away. The sensation becomes consuming, and pretty soon I can’t help but focus all my attention on this itching at my foot. A white fire starts to take over my mind, and I jerk myself forward to sit up, and I scratch. And I scratch. And I stop, and realize that I am sitting straight up. I flinch, knowing I completely forgot about the low flying objects and that the next movement I see will be my own demise. I clutch my eyes shut, but nothing happens. I slowly peer out the side of my eyelid, and witness another shadow. Another object. But nothing has happened.

I slowly crawl to the edge of my bed, and I try to take in what I see around me. My bed, next to to the edge of a small pond, in a dark cave no bigger than an office. I glance up, and see the small crack in the top of the cave where moonlight is pouring in. Not enough to really light my view, but enough to make reflections off the water. Reflections that then bounce off the cave walls and ceiling. Reflections that then look like thousands of fast moving objects, shooting around like a crazy cosmic pinball game. Reflections that held me captive in fear each and every night. I then look at the edge of the bed, and am surprised to spot a blooming flower surrounded by a small shaft of light, nodding along with the reflections. The flower whose roots stretch back to the very same pond, drawing the life necessary to fully blossom, its petals brushing along the edge of the bed. Right where my foot was.

I wake with a smile on my face for the first time in months.

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