The Visits
I awaken suddenly, my heart clamoring and my nerves on alert. You would think I would be prepared by now. You come to visit me every night, sometimes in my dreams but more often in my nightmares.
Some dreams are of intimate times we have spent together. Some are of the places we have gone. Regardless, when I awaken, they linger like a haunting melody wrapping me in its chorus.
I wish I could keep the dreams as my reality, but it is not to be. They are part of our lives, not the whole. The nightmares are part of our lives, too.
I gave you the gifts of vulnerability and transparency only to have them turned on me. You took my past and used it as a weapon. I have nightmares of you stabbing me and leaving me to bleed out. That is what you have done with my trust.
Some nightmares are of you smothering me, of you approaching with a pillow and cradling my head as the pillow is pressed ever tighter to my face, cutting off all oxygen until I myself cease to exist. That is what you have done with your demands. I allowed you to stifle me until I nearly ceased to exist. How could I allow you to do that?
I have always considered myself an intelligent woman; however, I can scarcely find evidence of that. You are not the only one to blame for what has been done. I share the blame for I allowed it to be done.
I will revel in the dreams and steel myself for the nightmares. It is nothing less than what I deserve. I will keep the dreams and nightmares until I have learned their lessons. It has been a painful journey; one I do not intend to undertake again.
Every night you visit me, sometimes in my dreams, more often in my nightmares.