There are reasons why I don't write about this a lot and one of them is because I know you didn't like me talking about this. About my dreams—or rather, my ever-present nightmares. It had everything to do with the fact that neither of us could do anything about it. I got it. I didn't like to talk about it either, but there were days I wished I could discuss it with somebody else.
But since I would bury this, I would write it down here what kept me awake most nights. Why I could wander the streets at two in the morning. Why I started to smoke so much more as of late. Why I couldn't get any things done. Why I could be jumpy some days, while being completely unresponsive on the others. But you shouldn't worry, really. I could still function as well as the next guy. Some nights, the dreams didn't even come.
Other nights though they appeared. I still dream of that forest fire and wail in the middle of the night. I still dream of that girl with long wavy hair that falls down to her waist. I still dream of every conversations she shares with me, of the dark red blood all over my body. Maybe that was why I didn't flinch when I heard the bang, watching as you lay crumpled on the ground. I'd dreamed of tragedy too many times, Sam. They come along with me even as I'm awake.
Perhaps you saw it, too. When you opened your eyes wide and your mouth clenched shut as if to hold back a silent scream. I should have heard it anyway.
The girl in my nightmares was good with swords and knives. She wore some sort of long red clothes with intricate patterns and golden trim. She laughed a lot. Playful. Ambitious. Mostly she talked to me about mundane things, like what the cook would make for dinner or when her parents were going to come back.
Most of the time the dreams took turn into a confusing scenes of forest fire, crumbling houses, and blood. Explosions sometimes. I could hear her wail. I couldn't remember what made her so sad, but she was crying like her heart had been torn out of her chest and it left me an ache I could never ease even as I was awake.
In one of more peaceful dreams, I saw her sitting beside me talking about glory, but it was a repeated speech, like she heard it from somewhere else.
I heard myself asking her, “Is it worth it?” I couldn't remember what was.
She looked up at me, her whole body was so still, but she didn't say anything until finally she averted her eyes. If I'd known her well enough, I would say it was as though she was ashamed.
YOU ARE READING
Wearing My Smile | ✔
Teen Fiction"I wondered if you'd ever thought that the name your parents had given you felt like sharp knife twisting through your heart in its prayer. I'd never asked you that before, now I'd never get to." Having been together since forever, Roo struggles in...
