based on an actual dream:
There he was, my father sitting on the tile floor in his kitchen of his small apartment. He was holding a beautiful newborn baby wrapped in a plush light blue blanket. He leaned back onto the wall as he began to cradle the baby, not making a sound.
He then lifted his hand and used his middle finger to tap in-between the babies eyes. Forceful enough to make sound but not enough to hurt the newborn. His face held no emotion, as if he had been stricken with death but was somehow still living. Zombie-like but without their tendencies. His face wrinkled and bony held no emotion, and that was the scariest part. He looked eerie as if he had been in a trance. It was all too disturbing to handle.
~
I wake up in a cold sweat crying and shaking, out of breath. It was traumatic but not for reasons that made me afraid. No. But for reasons that were disturbing. The dim atmosphere, the mint of the walls, and the grime of the tile floor. The aesthetic of it all was too disturbing for me to grasp, so I never told anyone but my mother. She says it was the work of demons and that I needed to pray to God so they will go away. But what will happen if I don't believe in God?
Will the "demons" stay?
Will my life become a series of disturbing dreams?
I have yet to figure out.
