It all started as though it had always been. It was a dark night. Cloudy... no more like weighty, it seemed. It was in the midsts of a war. But not of a tangible sort, no soldiers versus soldiers type of war. There was just that heavy feeling, that clung to everything. You know the one... a draping of fear and of oppression. The overbearing knowledge that either side could win, but having no idea if it would be yours?
There was a part where...
Suddenly, it seemed, the room had changed into a building with a domed ceiling.
Dark...cold, yet stifling. Full of a fear you could not swallow. Was it possible to choke on a feeling? I and another were trying to escape this room. Because if the...witch...or demon...or whatever she was saw you... Well, something unbeknownst to you would happen. All you knew was that you would not survive.
The strange thing was the more I fought the closer I was to the unknown fate. The more frightened I became... When I stopped struggling and acknowledged my fate I was able to... float out. The domed ceiling could no longer keep me under. Yet she was unable to ever escape it. It was her prison? How had we arrived? Why could we not consciously leave? Only as long as I consciously ignored what was going on could I continue to float upwards towards freedom for; the way she was notified of your presence was by your thoughts. So when I got excited about escaping... or when the pang of guilt and quivering nausea, over the person I could not save, hit me like a sledgehammer... they had been my responsibility...I had let them down... This, you see, is when the fear came back. Like the memory pains of a lost wound, I could hardly bare it. When I knew I would be free...and I knew they had not made it...was this the person I was meant to be? A let-down? Had I failed them? Or had I never been strong enough to get them out? Had this always been the predetermined course? Had they always stood no chance? Even...with me by their side... When I ignored these feelings again I was able to get out past the ceiling. Along with the agonizing sorrow for the one I had lost... tagging along...like an invisible scar I would never erase.
This next part is hazy...this next part...I am not sure how I got to it I cannot remember... Perhaps, I chose not to remember? I am with two little Asian boys. Could they be mine? They cling so tightly to the back of my dress, and then there is a tiny brown baby girl in my arms. Held tight, kept close. We were trying to escape from the town, the war, the demon's home...the fear. We end up it seems upon a train. Moving silently among the tracks. Jostling us around the bends. I kept fearing the baby was dead for she would ne'er make a sound nor fidget. But she was so warm to the touch. Her eyes were closed, but they would flit at times and she just...she just felt so alive. The other children they never worried... perhaps they just knew she was all all right. She was so tiny, so corporeal but fragile... vulnerable. The fear never left me...not once. It kept close watch, within its tight grip. Would we ever feel peace?
On the train...someone...or something, I suppose, came in. We knew to stay safe we could not look up nor make a sound. I was so terrified the children would look up or cry out in fear as they hid behind me. Or that the baby would wail or coo as babies often do. But they never did, perhaps they knew better than even us adults do? We finally made it to...I guess the station? If you could even call it a station... All of a sudden, this panic engulfed me. I had no idea when the children had last eaten! I needed to get milk for the baby! But I could not find anyone who would serve me. We were so surrounded by families running from the war and camping out in every nook and cranny and no one would give me milk nor accept my money. They would not even acknowledge my existence I could have been talking to walls. I started to freak out and it was strange... for all I had was foreign money but I had no idea from where it came. But either way no one would accept it. What was I to do? I needed milk for the baby because she needed to survive! I needed her to survive. She really felt as tho she were mine... Not that I knew whose she was...or where she had come from either... Why could no one give us some help?
And I then remember needing to meet with the man we had been searching for the entire time. He was going to help us, and house us but... then I woke up... I never got to meet him... but his silhouette gave such a feeling of...was it love?
I guess it was all a dream you see. Then why did it feel more real than reality? Perhaps, now too I dream?
How...did things end?