Letters to a Marine

Dreamy Nightmare

*writers note, this is not much for a letter on emotion, just a little thought im considering in my head while bored in school*

Dear Marine                                                                                1-23-13

                This letter has almost no use, I think I wrote it simply because I was bored in class and thinking about what you asked me that one time, through your letters of course. You said in your letters that you had a nightmare, a dream, that stayed with you. And that you want to know what my nightmare is, but I don’t know how to ask you about yours without telling you about mine. I don’t get different ones, or variations of the same thing, just the same one once a month, once a week, every night, 3 times a night. I have found no cause or cure for them, they come when they want however often they want. There was a time when I thought that you were able to chase them away, but either it only works for the day I see you, or they don’t happen those days, I have no way to find a rhyme or reason because they are to sporadic.  If I see you even then they might still rob my sleep.

                Do yours wake you up without showing you the end? Do you wake up covered in sweat? Does fear make it painful to breathe? Are there bruises on your mouth where you tried to smother your own screams? Are your lips blue from holding them silent for so long? Are your ribs bruised and sore for weeks from holding on to tight? Does fear stretch your muscles to the limit, causing almost tears in your back? Is there so much terror going through you that you can’t move? Do you sit curled up, hugging your legs hoping the tighter you held on, the faster the fear would leave? Do you have to run to get rid of the dreams? When you fall asleep are you happy? Does your dream always start off with a smile?

                You see I can’t ask you these questions without giving away what mine is like, or at least how I wake. I do not go to sleep fearing the dream, or thinking of it. when the dream starts I am not scared, not till I wake. My dream is a happy thing, I go to asleep with a smile and stay asleep with a smile. I could show you my dream, show you with the words I write, for I don’t think I can tell you to your face. Not because I don’t think you should know, but to say the dream, I need to go into it, to describe it I need to be there, and to be there I feel what is in it. Being around you though chases away almost all bad feelings, so I don’t think I can literally remember my dream, so I will write it down, so that maybe one day I can show you what I write. To hopefully show you with my words. With the words that when I wake I can sometimes catch parts of the dream in the moring and write down before my memory shuts it down.

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                It was dark, which was unusual, normally I don’t spend too much time in the dark. I felt their presence next to me though so I knew I was safe, couldn’t see them, but I knew I wasn’t alone. A hand would brush mine every now then, or my hair would swish against a shoulder, signs letting me know that the happiness I felt was radiating from them, from these strangers next to me. My feet were bare as I normally have them, the soft grass not giving me a single poke or prod, their feet made little swooshing noises in the grass as well as mine, one person was in time with me while the other was not. I couldn’t explain why I was happy, or what was spreading the happy feeling around, I didn’t know why these two people made me feel safe, like they could protect me from the whole bad side of the world. We didn’t say anything as we walked through the dark, sometimes a flash of blonde hair could be seen on one side, on the other side I say a glimmer of blue eyes, they both felt distinctly masculine somehow. It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t see them, these two who I could not see wouldn’t let me be hurt.

                When the grass changed to dirt I frowned, the happiness was gone. I don’t know where it went, but it wasn’t here any more. Turning around to walk back to the grass both of the guys stopped, so I stopped too, for some reason if I left them I knew I wasn’t safe. But I wanted the happiness back, not the uneasy feeling that was starting to come from somewhere.

                I tried to look around, but then I realized I could look around, there was a light starting to come into view in front of me. I would like it, but it seemed to only heighten the unease, the two people behind me shifted their weight  as the light got stronger.

                Deciding to get away from the light and towards the safety of the two guys I took a step back.

                That’s when the uneasey feeling exploded into panic. No one was behind me. Or next to me. I spun around, looking for something, anything to calm this panic that was chocking my throat, crushing my chest with its heavy paws. Only thing was a white light everywhere and dry dirt under my feet, burning with a heat common of a hot summer afternoon.

                Taking one more step back there was nothing. No ground, no sky, no people, just a bright white light and a scream. And the pure terror filling me, un-controlling it blazed through me, searing away any happy moment I had, leaving behind the bright white with emptiness filled with only that scream.

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                When I wake I no longer scream, the bruises over my mouth show where I prevent it, scratches and bruises show where fear made my grip strong. I don’t cry, maybe because I am too terrified. The ending always seem a little different with every time, it all starts out the same, but when my safe feeling is gone, then I start to forget, or my memory doesn’t want to remember. I don’t know who’s next to my or why, I don’t know what connection they have to me, maybe I would know if I could finish the dream, but if I wake up as it is without finishing I wonder what would happen if I continued?

                Normal dreams are not like this are they? I would say nightmare, but it is not a scary dream, not until I wake. There could be some deep physiological meaning to this, but I do not tend to look that deep in me. What’s happening is happening, not much I can do is changing it, so might as well just keep on going right?

                So my marine I wish that your dream does not wake you as violently as mine does. I wish I could find a way to tell you, to show you the dream without the nightmare. Without the sweat, terror, and bruises.

                                                                                      -The Bruised Sleeper