I dreamt of my mother last night. She was screaming at me as she always did when I was a child. In this dream time had receded and I was once again five years old, standing before her. Cigarette smoke surrounded us both, creating a thick fog of stench.
“You’re nothing but a mistake, one I should have gotten rid of a long time ago.” She yelled.
I noticed her hands were clenching, getting ready to strike me.
I tried to scream for her to stop but I couldn't. It was as if an invisible hand had wrapped itself around my throat, choking off the words before I could say them.
Her hand started clenching faster, signaling that the blow was soon to come.
My breath started coming in short, fast gulps.
She lifted her hand and I tried to turn away so I would not see it coming. As her hand swung towards me my voice finally erupted in a scream. I woke up before her hand connected, only to discover that I was alone in my apartment, screaming at nothing…
Rocking back and forth used to comfort me when I was a child but doesn’t have same effect any more so instead I reached for the pills on the night stand and washed the last one down with a shot of whiskey. As I waited for the familiar calm to overtake me I found myself looking up at the ceiling, begging an invisible deity for peace.
“God, please let the dreams stop.” I whispered
God doesn’t answer.
He never answers...
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