daymares & nightmares

Daymares and Nightmares

She stood by the window. The view was unimpressive: a footpath, a road, the houses on the other side. Nothing changes! she thought. She looked up, can’t really see much of the sky. She loved the sky, especially in the winter with the low sun casting long shadows, the blue and pink of an early sunset, the yellows and browns of an approaching storm. The way the snow looks dark against the blue and white when it reaches the ground.

She envied the birds being able to fly through it. She wished she could fly, fly away to a far off place where this world couldn’t find her, but no! Here is where she was, here is where she chose, but it wasn’t a good choice in the long run.

At first this place was new, clean, hers but now it was cold, frightening, dangerous and seemed to belong to someone or something else: yes! a something. Not a person or animal but a thing. A thing that comes in, takes over, destroys lives, and doesn’t care if you care or not, an emotionless thing with no feeling, no sense of time, no sense of dignity.

She turned away from the window and looked at the room. In the corner was the television on some channel. She didn’t know what, it was just on as it always was. The stereo that came into the house like a lot of other things it didn’t belong to her, it was just there. On the fire place were ornaments that she’d had for years. They belonged to her. She could take them with her, if she wanted.

Wanted!

What did she want?

To get out, be free, yes but not just her, all of them. She looked down at the threadbare carpet, covered in oil stains from when this room was used as a garage but not anymore, the only thing left were the oil stains. Two chairs were up against one of the walls, odd chairs that were given to her by someone. She couldn’t remember who! There was no settee, just a double mattress folded to look like one. They pulled it down to sleep on at night, but in the day it got sat on by strangers, friends, family and dogs. The room smelt of dogs. There were three there at this time, three dogs and two cats. She could hardly believe they had dogs when they could barely feed themselves, but they had them and they all slept together in the one room. They used to sleep upstairs till the night “they” came, searched the place then left. After that she preferred to sleep downstairs.

The room needed decorating. Wallpaper had started to hang off the walls. The paint was stained with cigarette smoke. The gloss was chipped and there was a huge hole in the door. She’d tried to make it look nice once before the uncaring thing came and took over. She’d lost control over it; it had taken her too, deep into the night it would call to her and she would obey by choice. It helped her forget… it. It helped them all but it didn’t really, it confused them into thinking it was helping, this thing that takes over, takes part of you till there’s no you left.

She turned back towards the window again, a large window that seemed to take up the whole wall. A place where she could stand and look out, a place where she could dream away the hours till that time again when she would forget. Hers dreams were of escaping, going to a place where it couldn’t find them. There must be a place, where they could go with or without belongings, where it wouldn’t find them.

She started to plan their escape: get a car, pack their stuff and leave in the middle of the night, so no one would see. A safe place.

Get a car? That meant trusting someone.

Who could she ask?

Not the usual crowd, THEY don’t want them to go, THEY have a relationship with it, it would then know and would hurt them by making them go without that’s what it did, hurt whenever she decided to leave it.

How would she do this?

Trust, trust who could she trust?

This question would be on her mind for what seemed like an eternity.

She hated being alone here. She knew where it was hiding. She could get it out and kill it, but then the others would get angry and maybe kill her. Then she’d never be free. That’s what it does; it puts fear into safe places.

People wandered passed the window going about their daily routine. She had a routine too, but it was controlled by it. She wondered if the people outside knew what she knew, or did they just get on with things unknowing. She wished she was unknowing, never leant to say its name, never got used to the smell of it. This thing that crept up on them till they had succumbed to its charm, she laughed! It doesn’t have any charm just a bad smell.

When she slept she thought of it, not dreams just nightmares. In the day she thought of it not daydreaming but daymares. Nightmares and daymares not a world fit for anyone but this was her world, the one she chose.

Now she wanted out.

The safe place where it wasn’t, the country maybe? A bit of persuading would be needed. Some may not be very happy going. They wouldn’t have a place to stay but no place is better than this place.

She knew this was a good idea. A plan was forming. She was getting back control. It would hurt her but it was hurting now. She didn’t have a choice once but she did now. She was going to get free and she would take them with her, even the dogs.

This would be a new: clean world her world that she chose. A safe place she could relax in. A place where she could go into the dreams not just look at them through the window.

She would be the one who makes the decision to leave it. She would get them out, yes! all out. She’d be known has a heroine.

Funny how the name of your fear can be turned into something good.

©Mills Laine