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A Girl Dreams’ of Herself

She was fighting it as hard as she could. It was coming. Slipping over her; dragging her under. It

would hold her down and pull her at the same time; the dream that she could never quite explain on

waking.

The only sensation that came close was the feeling of being given gas at the dentists. She had

fought that too. She fought so hard it took her mother and two dental nurses to hold her down.

Fear awakens force.

She remembers screaming, her body contorting and convulsing, trying in vain to evade the black

mask they placed over her nose and mouth; the suffocating smell of a medicated rubber.

The last thing she saw was the dentists hand on the mask as he forced it down upon her face. As the

world faded, his fingers stretched, becoming like watery tentacles connecting her to the surface until

they were swallowed by the thick tar of unnatural sleep.

This is similar, but now the drug is the dream. Intoxicating and taking her over.

As sleep forces its thick fingers into her eyes, she feels the heaviness, but where? Her chest, she

thinks. Her last conscious thought stands still, giving way to sensation. She gives over to it.

The bed beneath her begins to fade and she is suspended in mid-air. She is rising and falling

simultaneously. She is being tipped up, as though her feet were being raised. Her head edges

towards an unknown and unseen precipice. She is plunging head first into the abyss of herself.

And then, the dream is in her mouth.

Her body evaporates, disrobing her of her mortal cloak. Free of form; she is.

She is within herself, within the dream. It is of her but beyond her, carrying her and penetrating her.

It pulsates with her as its blood.

She is still, yet hurtling forwards. The blackness is as vast and as infinite as it is claustrophobic. The

colours start. They burn past her, as though she were travelling through some sort of space and

time continuum, but within herself.

There is a noise. Is there? It feels like there is. A low vibration. It is all around her, overwhelming

yet inaudible. It is coming from inside, inside her, inside the dream. It is like the sound you hear

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inside your head when you press your hands hard over your ears or when you slip under the water in

a hot bath.

The pressure builds. The colours flash. The blackness. The rush. The noise. The weight. I am

going too fast. I am held too tight. I can’t move. The dream is in my mouth.

The dream is in my mouth. The dream is in my mouth… 

She wakes. The sound stops. The motion stops. The colours are gone; all of this replaced by a cloud

of fear, confusion and a too heavy heartbeat.

She cries out.

The father enters.

I had the dream again.

What dream?

The one with the colours… and noise. (The dream was in my mouth. It’s in my mout h.)

He doesn’t ask any more questions. He will never understand her.