Living Dreams

The Woman who Stalks the Battlefields

Sequel to "So there's a Woman who Stalks my Dreams."

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I always knew war was hell but it wasn't until just a few weeks ago that I fully understood why. I understood that I would never understand it. The pictures, the artifacts, the stories: they never go away. The months it takes for towns to recover after a battle tears through them is heartbreaking. Some wounds do not heal. Some ghosts never leave. They simply can't.

I imagine a string with a loop at the end trying to catch on a hook. It's like the thought enters my mind but I am not afraid of it just yet. I can laugh about it. But then night comes and the loop catches and all of the fear and anxiety sets in. The darkness is almost everywhere and wherever there is light, my mind places the images that only a couple of hours ago I could laugh about. I see them in the sleeping faces of those around me and in the swirling shapes behind my eyelids. I cannot trust anything, even inanimate objects that don't have the ability to betray me. My mind uses them to betray myself.

I went on vacation with mixed feelings. There would be people I liked and people I despised. A different bed every night. No means to make my hair look half-decent. It was an amazing opportunity to learn and to see places I had never been to before. In the end it was worth it but I never even considered her coming with me.

She followed me to school that day and went on the bus. She sat there with me for the eight hour bus ride and all she did was wait and watch, lurking in the back of my mind but I had no idea that she was there.

We arrived at the hotel and went to bed. We visited some places the next day and all went well. Another bed in another room. The next day was another museum and she was there. I came face to face with her with a level of intimacy I hadn't known since about a year ago or when it all started in fourth grade.

I went back to the first time I saw her. It was up close and I was not entirely sure who I was looking at. The next week I learned who she was and I suppose it was the context that set me off. For weeks after I had my back to her but I knew she was there.

The second time I confronted her I walked right up to her but then spun around and ran away. I just couldn't do it. But what I did see gave me nightmares for weeks and brought back all of those feelings I thought were gone only to make an appearance whenever she finds me in my dreams.

Here I am again with my back to her. Now I feel guilty as the person speaks and I cannot face them because to face them means facing her. I looked as sick as I felt. They offered me a drink of water and I sat down at the first bench I saw. All of my energy went into not appearing bothered by her. Not because I had to maintain my dignity in her wake but because no one else saw her and those who did would have never understood why I was in so much pain in her presence. I might have even been seen as a terrible person in the eyes of someone who didn't understand. I felt guilty about my fear. Was it possible that I abandoned myself so I would not look bad in front of others? I probably did and, knowing myself, I would probably do it again.

That night was terrible. I barely slept at all and I don't think my roommates were ever truly aware of that. I was lying there unable to close my eyes and unable to trust them to not distort the darkness that was swirling around me and create disfigured images out of the specks and objects I had to stare at for eight hours.

Then for the rest of the trip I was paranoid, hanging on my friends' arms. They had to go ahead of me and make sure none of the exhibits would set me off. I don't think I will ever be able to let them know how much I appreciate them for doing all of this for me, no matter how meaningless it might have seemed to them; it meant the world to me. If they found it annoying, I at least hope they didn't think I was overreacting; I hope they have an idea about how serious this is for me. They saved me from another sleepless night when we had to wake up earlier than normal. They saved me from sitting on the bus crying while hiding in my sweatshirt when we were supposed to be enjoying ourselves. I could have been so much more of a burden than I was and I had no control over it but I had them to thank for their constant protecton.

It's the feeling of walking on very thin ice. You're slipping and sliding and any moment you could fall through; and you know it.

It's that feeling that no matter where you go, you're in danger of being set off. And there is so much guilt involved. That woman has been hurt so much more than I have. Is she still alive out there? Does she live her life as normally as possible? Why is she there but also here with me, lurking at all times? Why does my brain distort the image of her and completely dehumanize her and turn her into a beast meant to terrify me and make my life a living hell? Whose fault is it? Or the better question: what do we do about any of it? What can I do because I can't breathe?

This story was supposed to be written in one sitting. I first thought to write it in April following the vacation but I did not start it until late June or early July. Now it is September and I have another update. It was at a museum that had set me off, where I had my back to the wall and I looked horribly ill all of the sudden. There is a picture of me at the museum wearing a hot pink rain jacket I had purchased for the trip.

Fast forward to yesterday and I was wearing the same jacket again for the first time. The museum was this old building with a distinct scent and I was smelling it now in my jacket. It was raining all day but I had to take it off and stuff it into my backpack and it made my bag at least fifty pounds heavier.

And this morning I saw some images on social media that set me off again and I found myself writhing in bed, unable to breathe. Scroll past. Scroll past. Don't let this be another website you have to excuse yourself from because you cannot handle the repeated images on it. Don't let her take over your life.

Don't let her win. You have so much better to do with your life than be controlled by a fear that can't kill you, a pain that does not have to hurt, a sight that you can easily go blind to. It is so much easier said than done though.