very short writing

beaumec18's picture

This isnt about me, i have not had this experience thank God, and please comment if you think it's powerful - it's crazy how you can feel things for others *EMPATHY. I take it to the extreme I guess and really understand it.

He woke up with a terrible dream on his mind, soaking in sweat. The dream had infiltrated his innards, corrupted his chastity, stolen his soul. And he was angry.

The dream meant everything to him. It was the third dream in three days; it was one of those dreams. He hated how it tormented him. It gave his body a jolt like none other, a disabling affliction that only caffeine and the 9 to 5 job would dull. He woke up tasting the fresh remains of his dignity, feeling filthy.

Deeply rooted in ancient memories, his dream took him back to places that had deliberately removed themselves from his consciousness. Someone was crying, a sound that was all too familiar. Shame permeated his entire being.

He was alone, scared and cold. Unfortunately for him, the 17 year old neighbor found him. It happened in the woods, not far from where he was found. They took a few steps. He took some forced vows, vows of silence that would not resurface until 23 years later, with a peculiar dream that was particularly disturbing. He was ten.

He was ten, he was in the woods. He got lost and he returned as a different person. It was rape, it was murder. He lost 23 years of his life.

23 years later, I woke up angry with a terrible dream on my mind. I kissed my wife goodbye, my shattered self desperately pulling away as I leaned in to give affection. I went to starbucks, and came home at 5. And then I felt better, knowing that I was safe until tonight.

Comments

flushd's picture

did you write this or did the person in it write?

Who wrote this?
It surely captures the disassociation that occurs with trauma.
"he" has these dreams, "he" was ten.

zoe rose's picture

ooh. life is hell. enjoy

ooh.

life is hell.
enjoy it while you can.

'...people are, by nature, sad
so be it then, it isnt all that bad'
~from Smiles...by a russian poet whose name i cant pronounce, nor remember...