He leaned in to listen

[He patted the seat of the red velvet armchair, invitingly, patiently. Then he leaned in to listen with a reassuring smile.]

Tell me your dream.

Once again, I found myself in an ancient woods. Not a living forest, but the idea of a forest, as if peeled from a tapestry in some medieval castle. Tall straight trees with no end in sight, and no paths. Clear yellow light above me. My feet bare on the cool, even grass.

What were you doing in the woods?

I was – I was --

I was running.

Running toward something, or away?

Driven. Desperate. Breath in gasps, heart and feet pounding, dress snagging on the brush. I could not stop running.

Was anyone with you?

I ... ran alone.

What drove you to run?

[---]

Who pursued you?

I don't -- I can't --

Let’s step back. Take a breath. Before the running, what were you doing?

I’m not sure I remember. Let me think.

Yes. I was sitting on the grass, in a clearing in the wood. I think I was having a picnic. I felt … at peace.

And then what happened?

[---]

Close your eyes. Breathe in. Breath out. That’s good.

What could you hear as you sat on the grass?

A bee buzzing.

A sharp whizzing.

The splintering of bark.

The resonance of a blade impaling.

Very good.

Keep your eyes closed. Now go back. You are having a picnic. You are at peace. Breathe.

In this moment, what could you feel to the touch?

Early summer grass beneath me, soft and resilient as I reclined on my elbow. The warmth of the earth. Sun slanting through air so still ... so still I could sense the current of a hurled knife, before I felt its sting on my neck. Then I felt warm blood trickling like sap.

What did you do? Keep your eyes closed.

My hand reached up to hold my neck, to stop the spurting blood. Two slow, thudding heartbeats of shock. Then I gasped as I felt the pain. The pain, drawn out and sharp as the edge of a sword. The pain cleared my head. I scrambled up and left -- I left --

You ran.

I ran. Weaving, dodging through the trees, crashing through the undergrowth. The light grew dim. The only trail was the one I made with my blood. And from behind, blades kept flying past — slicing the branch beside me, spiking the grass an inch from my footfall, shredding my hair, grazing the hand still clutched to the gash on my neck. I could not stop. With every pounding step I pushed myself, faster, faster. But I could not outrun the knives.

Who pursued you?

I never saw his face. I did not dare turn around. But I know it was a man.

A man. How did you know?

I could hear his laughter.

His laughter?

A man’s raucous howl of delight. He never spoke. Not a single taunt or curse, not one word to accuse or explain. Only the bursts of wild, careless laughter. Clearly it amused him to hurl knives at me, to make me bleed, to make me run.

If I had breath to spare I would have shouted back — Why? Why? But I knew. I knew the only meaning was his enjoyment of my bloody panic.

You must have been terrified.

I never before knew the meaning of that word. Staggering, every step slowing. Every silence waiting for his absurd laughter. Every second expecting a searing slice through skin. Fearing and longing with each harsh breath for that stab through my white-hot lungs.

And what happened to your companion?

What companion?

The one with you at the picnic. The one you left behind.

She – Wait. Wait. I never mentioned her. How did you know she was there?

[---]

How could you know?

[---]

HOW DID YOU KNOW?

No need to shout.

Answer me!

Let’s start over, shall we?

Close your eyes. Now tell me about your dream.

No. No! I already told you!

Tell me again.

Why …?

Because I enjoy hearing about your dreams.

[He leaned back and smiled, and his teeth flashed like knives.]