Dreams of my friend in the woods

*****dream*****

I woke this morning near the end of this dream and it’s stuck in my body. I feel nauseous when I think of it and start to panic…heart pounding fear. I figure I’ll write it out to relieve myself of the memory, for now.

I was dreaming of my friend from the woods. We were sitting in her living room watching movies on television with some other people. We were sitting on the couch, curled up together with limbs intertwined. I loved the feeling of her hair tickling my cheek as I rested my head on her shoulder. The love I feel for her is overwhelming and intense, always.

We were discussing what we were going to do the next day. I had plans but wanted her to come with me…I always wanted her to come with me. She was part of my existence and I needed her around as often as I could get her. She seemed to feel the same way and agreed to come with me for the entire day. I smiled and snuggled into her body, happy to know I’d have her for all of the next day by my side.

She yawned and said she was sleepy. Wanted to go to bed. I told her I’d come up in a few minutes after the end of the movie I was watching. She didn’t kiss me goodnight but squeezed my hand in hers and made her way up the stairs to her room.

Her parents were not home, in fact, they hadn’t been home for some time. I was there constantly and never saw them, which was fine by me since they hated me openly and wanted me out of their house the moment they found me in it. I assumed they were coming home very late and leaving very early most days and left the thought at that….I had no desire to investigate futher.

There was a muffled thump from the upper floor a few minutes after my friend had left for bed but I didn’t think it was anything suspicious and ignored it. Shortly after I though I heard her crying so I got up and made my way to the stairs, listening intently. Another odd noise vaulted me into action and I ran up the stairs to her room. As I came through the door I saw her mother on the bed, on top of my friend and she was doing something awful to her….I couldn’t see exactly what was happening but I knew it was very wrong and very hurtful. The mother saw me and her eyes widened, ringed with ugly black eyeliner and poorly applied bright blue eyeshadow that smudged across one side of her face. She was on all fours over my friend on the bed and although my friend was fully clothed, it looked like her mother was molesting her somehow.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled, much too loud for the silence in the house.

The mother jumped up and nearly hissed at me like a cat, then, with awkward movements and joints bending at all angles, she pushed past me and ran down the stairs and out the front door without a word.

I ran to my friend’s side. She was face down on the bed, fully clothed and unconscious. Her face was wet from tears and there were small bruises appearing on her skin. I rolled her over and called her name, now crying myself, and tried to rouse her. Unable, I grabbed my phone and called for an ambulance.

When the medics arrived they checked her vitals and, deeming her fit to travel, a large man picked her up and carried her down the stairs to the waiting stretcher on the front stoop. I ran after them and tried to jump into the back of the ambulance but the attendant pushed me out.

“You can’t come in here.” he said, gruffly.

“I need to be with her!” I pleaded, near hysterics at that point.

“Sorry. You cannot come in here.” he repeated and shoved me back once again.

They loaded her in and drove away, sirens blazing; the lights turned kaleidoscopic through my teary eyes.

I went back inside and up the stairs to her room, looking for anything out of place. As soon as I entered the smell of cold-fear sweat filled my senses and I immediately turned to open a window. I stripped the linens from the bed and remade it with fresh ones, changed her pillow cases and took the lot downstairs to the laundry room. I went back upstairs to see if the smell had gone and was happy to find that it had diminished. I could still smell it though…a mix of body odour and cheap perfume from the mother and a cold sweat from my friend who had been so afraid when her mother attacked her. There was a stinging medicinal smell as well, faint but there, and I started to search the floor under the bed for the source. I came up with a partially empty vial and a dirty needle…..her mother had drugged her with something. I picked both up and made a call to the police then sat on her freshly made bed with a shirt of hers in my hands. I kept lifting it to my face to breathe her smell in as a comfort. I already felt like she had been gone forever….I couldn’t imagine living life without her.

I got myself together and went down to the front door to see if my car was there. It wasn’t…that happens often so I wasn’t too surprised. There was a small, narrow truck in the driveway though and I knew it’s owner was still in the basement watching movies. I ran down the stairs and hit him up for a ride to the hospital. He was unwilling, but did so anyway, protesting all the while. I think he was my friends uncle.

The truck was very small and the seats were hard to fit into. I stared hopelessly down at my fat legs and shifted uncomfortably over and over again.

“If you’re going to complain, you can always walk to the hospital.” said my unwilling driver.

I said nothing. We arrived and I met the police at the nurses station where my friend had been taken.

“Hello Ms.” the officer began. “They’ve taken your friend down to the psychiatric observation unit and she is on lock down. No one is allowed in or out so you won’t be able to see her right now.”

I started to cry. I needed, so badly, to see her. I wanted to crawl into her bed with her and hold her, rouse her, make sure she knew I would protect her no matter what the cost.

“You can collect her things. They were left in the room she was originally admitted to.” He said.

I went to the room, somehow already knowing it’s location and found her purse, jacket and clothing, none of which had been placed in the ambulance with her and I paused to consider that as I started to fold her clothes. I could smell her on them and it quickly overwhelmed me. I climbed into the bed and cried, holding her clothes to me like a teddy bear. The woman across from me stared openly, silently scolding me for something. Her eyes were mean and it was clear she thought I had done something wrong.

After claiming her things, I found the uncle, fuming in the lobby, and we went back to her house through another uncomfortable ride in his terribly small truck. I felt good enough knowing that her mother would not be able to access my friend for a few days while she was kept in observation. I was overwhelmed with sadness, however, as I realized I would also not see her for several days, at least. I knew she needed me to heal her soul and if I couldn’t be with her, the healing would just stall until I reached her. I wanted to be with her so badly I could barely stand the need.

Once back at the house I went into her bedroom and barricaded the door, piling things in front of it so it would not open from the outside, just in case her mother returned. I spent a restless night in her bed, alone, with nothing but her clothes and the smell of her on them to comfort me as I lay there, awake and feeling hopelessly alone. I couldn’t stop thinking of what she must be feeling, all alone in the psych ward being stared at by medical professionals who didn’t really care. It felt like I was dying…like she provided oxygen and I was slowly suffocating without her. It was heart-wrenching, the loss. I just wanted her well. Home. By my side and not in the hospital. I hated her mother then, more than I’ve ever felt in life.

I still feel sick, in real life, even though I’ve been awake for hours and came into work, made friendly morning chit chat with coworkers. I hope this clears some of the emotion from my mind so I can focus on work for the day. Then, maybe, I’ll get to hunt her asshole mother down tonight in dreams. That would be fun, for once.

Anyway. Means nothing. Just a dream….but wow do I ever love this woman I keep dreaming of. It’s weird, having a deep emotional connection to a person who only exists in my dreams. I wish my brain would be slightly more literal at times.

Have a good day all.

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About Grainne

My name is Grainne. This blog has been with me for years now and has served as a journal, a confessional, an outlet and a place for me to create and express my love of life. Thank you for stopping by and for becoming a part of this life long journey of mine. I appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to do so. :)

One response to “Dreams of my friend in the woods”

  1. awomaninpain says :

    That is so detailed, do you think the woman could be you? The sub conscious you?

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