Night Terrors
A short story written by: Summer Dust
Inspired, and dedicated to: Sarah (PkmnLadySarah)
A short story written by: Summer Dust
Inspired, and dedicated to: Sarah (PkmnLadySarah)
She hasn’t
had nightmares in years, not since she was a little kid, but lately she has
been awakened by horrible scenarios that barely ever even cross her mind. She
doesn’t watch much horror flicks, (and when she does, she sleeps like a rock) and
she isn’t easily frightened. She doesn’t get spooked by things that most girls
her age are scared of. You know,
spiders, camp stories, horror reads, listen to music most people fear, all
those creepy crawling animals? Those she is volunteering to hold. So she can’t understand
these nightmares. The most frequently accruing night terror is the one she’s
had tonight. It goes something like this: a serial killer is dumping women’s
body in my dad and I’s backyard. I see him and call the cops, but the operator keeps
joking, though my life is truly endangered. The serial killer breaks in and I always
wake up after the first time the axe hits the door. Now, like clockwork, I take the next step:
calling my best friend.
Three rings
later, I hear a sleep ridden ‘hello?’ like every other night.
“Jessica, its
Italy.” I said. I always felt bad for waking her, but she insists it is fine.
“Another
one?” Jessica asks, now sounding completely awake.
“Yeah, the
one about the axe guy.” I sigh.
“Again huh?”
She ponders.
“Yeah.”
“You know, I
am seeing a recurring synonym in your dreams.” She informs me.
“Really?
What?” I question.
“Think Italy.
Every one of your dreams stars you, and your life being endangered, but you
always wake up. Have you ever wondered if it is your brain subconsciously telling
you something?” Jessica interrogates.
“No?” I say,
the idea never crossing my mind until now.
“How long
has it been since you last cut?” She asks.
“2 months
since the relapse.” I answer solemnly.
“I think you
brain is telling, or in your case, proving, that you want to live.”
“How so?” I
ask, confused.
“You are
always put in a situation of death, and you always wake up before death comes
to you. You are like the operator that puts your life in danger, you joke
around with suicide and death by cutting yourself. You put yourself in danger
like the operator does, but you always live, because you don’t cross the line
of death, but you get so close, like the killer does. Note the axe; he makes
the first ‘incision’ into your door, a step closer to you, to your death. Every
time you cut, you are taking yourself a step closer to your death. So when you
wake up your scared, because of the situation you were in, but also because that
situation was that you almost DIED. So I think it is your subconscious telling
you, at the time in which it has most control-sleep-that it, as a part of you,
wants to live. So, I guess it is a painful reminder, trying to remind you why
you don’t cut. Go to bed, goodnight.”
“Crap.” I
say after moments of silence.
“Holy crap”
I said again because seriously. Why can my best friend interpret my nightmares
better than I can?
I lie down
on the bed and close my eyes. Before I drift I promise myself I won’t cut ever
again.
It’s been a
year since the nightmares and a year and two months since I was a self harmer,
and I haven’t one had a nightmare since.
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