Nightmare

Nightmare

I have this reoccurring nightmare.

I'm standing in a field of wheatgrass; I'm disoriented, frightened, exposed. The sun is at its zenith overhead and it blaze's so severely my dark skin added little protection from its glory. I revel in it though; the heat tickles my skin like a playful lover; that I am more than thrilled to indulge. I take a deep breath; this next part always hurt.

I tense instinctively as the arrow slams into my shoulder, my legs nearly give way, but I manage to stay upright. Pain is rushing through my upper body. It radiates out in waves flowing down my spine and into my toes. I reach around my back and snap the arrow and toss it on the floor.

I feel her eyes on me; her black orbs penetrate deeper than her arrow ever could. She stalks towards me, her mahogany skin almost glows in the sunlight, and I can't help but notice how radiant she looks.

I only see myself in her light when I dream. She is everything good and pure in me, and I oppress her and force her to submit to me during every waking moment. But she has no desire to be in this state of thralldom. She craves I beg her adieu and allow her to diverge from within me, but I cannot let that occur. No. This world would devour someone such as herself; there are few havens for people like her. The world would chew her up and spit her out, and I would be left to pick up the piece.

I notice her eyes again. Dark like a void and as black as the universe. So much potential awaits beyond these irises. She reaches her hand out to touch my face, she caresses me tenderly, and I lean into her gently. Her perfume of cinnamon and strawberries overruns my sense and envelopes me like a warm embrace.

She runs her hand under my vest and strokes my abdomen. The touch was light, and my muscles flex under her ministrations. Hot fingers ghost up to my chest. She tenses somewhat as if my heartbeat surprises her somehow. She leans her head into my shoulder and withdraws her hand from my body for a second.

I cringe as she drives the tip of her knife into my gut. She applied enough force to cause me to squirm, but her grip on me intensifies as she pushes the blade in deeper. My breathing increases and I snap my eyes shut as the pain overtakes me.

I tell myself to wake up, urge my brain to dismiss this illusion and afford me the slumber I deserve. My doubleganger senses my trepidation and digs the metal in further, my spine tingles and my vision begins to blur. Light takes no pleasure from treating me in such a manner, but I was holding her back from greatness, so 'it is what it is'.

My shadow retracts the blade, and I tumble to my knees. My lifeblood is staining the ground beneath me, and as I kneel here, bleeding to death in sweet agony, I can't help but feel relief, the complete understanding that in a few short moments, I will know what it feels like to have no thoughts at all. To be as light as a feather and as radiant as the day-star.

She kicks me in the chest, and I fall back on the grass, my neck starts to itch, my allergies follow me even in my nightmares. My replica hovers above me, blocking most of the sunlight, like an eclipse. I bring my hand to my stomach and clutch at the wound in a feeble attempt to stem the flow of blood.

How can a shadow be filled with so much light? She crouches down next to me, and even though we look the same, I do not possess an iota of the goodness she expels. I reach out to her, and she takes my hand, I smile through the pain; the irony not lost to me. How troubled must one be to find themselves repeatedly killed and comforted by a better version of herself?

My chest hurts, and I can't feel my legs. My dream stalker squeeze's my hand firmly, and I blink back the tears that threaten to fall. My shadow is angry with me; I never allow my light to come out anymore. I keep it locked up in here because the real world has no place for such naivety. You have to be hard to survive. Any light in you is easily filtered through multiple lenses of mindless social bullshit until you are numb inside, like everyone else.

So, I keep her pushed down so far inside of me that I barely even hear her anymore. No voice in my head is scolding me for bad decisions or ruined relationships. No, she can only get to me when I sleep. Although this hellish nightmare troubles me through my waking moment's, it is like a fleeting memory that I dismiss easily. But in this dreamscape, my shadow reigns supreme. So it doesn't matter how hard I try and wake up, or how often I remind myself that this is a dream, I am but a spectator in her world, just like she is in mine.

A gush of wind roars through my ears, and I wince as it batters my eardrums. Black spots overshadow me, and I struggle to catch my breath.

This is it, the end of my pitiful existence, my body shake's violently, and my lungs burn as if engulfed in flames. My shadow places a soft kiss on my forehead.

I feel my mind slipping away, separating itself from my body. Silent tears cascade down my face, how is it that I feel so alive while I die? Maybe this was her point all along? Life should be about more than just surviving.

I have this reoccurring nightmare.