On Subconscious Fears
I woke up this morning from a nightmare.
The world had turned into this dangerous place, even more dangerous than it is today. And in every passing second, in every breath, the individual’s survival was their top priority. It was a “kill or be killed” universe. And I (in this dream I wasn’t me per se, I was this doe-eyed redheaded teenager) had begun to suffer from the effects of high stress and paranoia. I was in a relationship, which felt comfortable and mature in a way only an old or destined relationship can feel, with this gorgeous pale skinned brown haired boy. I trusted him with my life, and he without hesitation never failed to save us from peril that seemed to lurk around every corner. I must have been very young or very weak to depend on him so much. But one particularly awful night (the nightmare took place over two or three days) something changed. He was slaughtering something evil, like stabbing him repeatedly.. insatiably. As he kneeled, hunched over the body, he screamed and sobbed into the dwindling carcass. Bloodied chunks of flesh were splattering all around him. I guess I was just watching him from behind in complete horror. The events of the night had already been outrageously frightening up to this point, but to see him lose it like that changed the tension in the atmosphere around us. This man who had never let me down, who I trusted completely, was suddenly dangerous. I called out to him at first, but only when I began pulling him up off the floor did he set his attention to me. I turned him to me and wiped the blood and tears off his face and tried to calm his pulse with things I thought would make him feel better like “We’re OK, we’re OK now. It’s alright.” But he looked down at my caressing hands, and down into my eyes with this quiet rage that I didn’t recognize. And that’s what triggered something in me. I couldn’t recognize him. I stilled my hands immediately, drawing them slowly down away from his face, to his neck, to his chest. But his own hands caught them when they reached the space between us, which kick-started the panic building in my own chest. I looked up at him in silence, and watched his face begin to shift and contort in impossible ways. I began to hyperventilate, I’m certain in both reality as much as in dreamworld. He was definitely the boy, but this was not who I fell in love with, this was not who I trusted. All I could think was who are you? Some remnants of his old soul could be seen, but the ferocity in his eyes was foreign and downright horrifying. Backing away my throat got tighter and tighter and his face changed fluidly at a quicker pace. Sometimes a too-wide smile, or a scowl, a silent scream, and something that looked worried? He gripped my wrist too tightly and followed me too closely as I backed away.
Gasping for air I woke up.
