When I was 17 I had these short, reoccurring dreams. I know, I know talking about dreams is sort of a bore. Everyone’s eyes glaze over once you start, but I’m here for a reason- trust me. My only regret is not talking about this sooner. If I had then someone could have helped us, they could have saved her.
So here it is- bear with me, ok? It started about two years ago, my senior year. I don’t know how many times I dreamt it before it stuck, but I remember how I felt upon waking. The outer corners of it lingered before I’d open my eyes. Soft, yellow and sweet as rain. This started around a particularly stressful time in my life. It was winter, everything was cold, the snow was dirty, I was restless at school and my boyfriend was acting distant. There was a breakup on the horizon but neither of us were willing to say it outloud- so we kept quiet in the purgatory of winter. During that time, I held tight onto that yellow feeling in the morning. The tighter I held, the more I dreamt it, and I started to remember.
It was always the same. I’m sitting at the base of a mountain at the mouth of an open field- there’s wild grasses and flowers at my feet, boulders leaning against each other, warm light streaming through the gaps onto my skin. It was beautiful, the field saturated in color and everything moved real slow. It was a gentle, peaceful place.
I’d sit in the grass, legs crossed and with me was a little girl. She had green eyes and wavy blonde hair that curled around her jaw and rested on her shoulders. She wore a blue cotton dress with bare feet. I didn’t know her, but she felt familiar. Sometimes she’d sit next to me, other times, she would crawl into my lap and I’d wrap my arms around her. I wanted to protect her, I felt as if I had to protect her. From what? I don’t know, there was no danger in the dream, nothing I could see. It continued on like that for a while, the dream was always brief but welcomed. We’d sit and smile in the sun until my alarm pulled me away.
Winter passed and spring came.Things were better at school. Everyone was giddy, excited about prom and graduation- though- my boyfriend and I kept a lot unsaid, we were finally a bit more in sync. I became distracted and the dreams became infrequent. It took me a while to notice. But the girl- she was dying.
When the dreams came- there was no soft glow in the morning, instead the dream felt sharp edged and cold. The girls smile had started to fade. Her hair was darkening, the curls matted, eyes sallow and dull. Everytime i dreamt of her, she got worse. And the field became barren, the boulders started to disintegrate and with it the light that once shone through the gaps had now become harsh. I tried to detach myself from it. After all- this wasn’t real, she wasn’t real, only a figment of my imagination, caused by stress or whatever.
But there was this agonizing feeling that this was my fault and there was something I could do about it but I had no idea how to stop it. The feeling of dread and anxiety that came with the dreams carried over into my waking hours. I couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard I tried. What was supposed to be a happy time in my life was consumed by this nightmare and guilt. I couldn’t protect her, I was failing her.
And then she died in my arms three days before graduation.
I mourned her silently. As much as any sane person would. And when I was done, I locked that memory away into the darkest corners of my heart. I left it there to be forgotten. Not because I didn’t care, but because it hurt too much to look at. I had no choice but to forget- to move on.
The weird thing is, after all that- I had completely stopped dreaming. Not just of her or that mountain, but all dreams. There was nothing for me in that world, absolutely nothing.
It wasn’t until recently that I was forced to remember. I was walking back to my dorm late at night when I saw her in the flesh standing on the concrete path. For a brief moment I felt the soft, yellow corners of those mornings. But as soon as it came, it left and began to rot.
The girls eyes were cast on the ground, but I knew it was her. She looked different, slightly older, hair tangled, dress dirty and torn, but it was blue- that same baby blue dress from before. I started to walk towards her, though everything inside me was screaming to run, nothing about this seemed right. The air around me was static, and round her the night seemed heavy, weighted on her shoulders, slumped in my direction. It felt all wrong but it didn’t matter, I fought that pit of dread and took a step forward. I needed to be with her, to hug her, to tell her I’m sorry.
I’m so, so, sorry.
She turned and ran before I could reach her. I followed after, but she disappeared quickly. Frantically I circled round the buildings, but she was nowhere. At that point I questioned my sanity and went inside.
I’m here now, in my room writing this out- I’m tired and my writing is getting sloppy. I don’t know what to do, I’m just trying to make sense of the situation, though it hopeless and —-
She’s here.
Just outside the window, standing in the grass.
She’s not alone. There’s someone behind her and he looks so familiar, I can’t quite make him out in the dark- but I know him.
I’m going outside. I’m going to get her-
M a. r L A