The Woman and The Plantation

I was standing in a large front yard. In front of me was a plantation style home. It was a huge white double story plantation style mansion. I had never seen anything like it before. I could hear people to left of me. It sounded as though they were talking. No that wasn’t it. I believe I can hear someone crying. I walked about 300 meters and I could see two African women sitting on the ground. One was crying intensely on to the older woman’s shoulder. They appeared to be mother and daughter. The two of them wore similar clothing to each other. It reminded me of what you saw servants wearing in the old movies. I still found it unbelievable that slaves were ever owned. The whole concept on slavery angered me. I heard the young woman say, “I couldn’t do nothing Mama. Why didn’t she talk to me? I could have helped her. She was my friend Mama.” Her mother replied, “I know Sweety. But you listen to me, Ebony. The mother pointed towards the plantation. That girl in there, she needs your prayers.” The daughter continued to cry. I asked the mother if she was going to be okay. But no one responded to me. I tried again and still no response. I walked around and sat down right in front of the both and they couldn’t see me. However, the minute I saw the younger girl she reminded me of someone. It took just a second before I remembered her from the Jail cell dream. She had grabbed the brown-haired woman from my other dream. They couldn’t see or hear me. Was I just a spectator to all this? I made my way back to the plantation to investigate what was happening.

I got to the front door and realized it was still open. I stepped inside and noticed there was no one there. But I could hear running water. I listened to see if I could source the direction of the sounds of water. It was coming from my left. It seemed to be close by. I walked to my left passed the pillars I had seen before. To my right was the stairs that went upwards where Samantha led me last time. I made it halfway across the main lobby when I could see a little water coming out of the room to the left. The door was open and the sound of running water was coming from there. I made it to the room and had a quick look in from the doorway. This appeared to be woman’s room. The bed was a princess style canopy bed with luxurious white curtains draping down from the top. The sheets were a mixture of elegant white and silver fabrics. There was what I would call a vintage white vanity dresser and chair combination. On this there was a mirror. It was an oval shape with intricate silver and gold designs. It was really a great piece of furniture. The dresser and wardrobe appeared to be of the same design. On top of the dresser was carefully laid out blend of perfumes and make up. I also noted that on the bed there was a large white towel laid across the bed next to what I think was a white lace satin robe. There was a chair next to the bed that I had just noticed. The chair matched the rest of the furniture in the room. I looked to my left and saw that there was bathroom that was just off the bedroom. The door was wide open, and the water was coming from here. I became more alert when I realized that the water had obtained a reddish hue. I quickly made my way to the bathroom and saw that the bathroom was a decently sized. Black and white tiles covered the floor. The bathroom at a glance appeared to be as elegant as the bedroom. I looked to my right and I could see a woman lying in the bathtub. She had her head back against the tub, her hair was mostly submerged, and her arms where hanging over the side. I called out to see if she was okay. I even called out to her and said the water is overflowing, you may want to turn it off. She didn’t move or pay any attention to me. As I started to make my way out of the bathroom, I saw something drip from her arm. I looked again and saw blood drip from her arm. I quickly moved to the bathtub and saw that it was the same woman from the DVD store and the night before Rose had left. The bath water was blood red. The laid slouched in the bath with her eyes closed. Her skin was pale. There was blood all over her and the bathtub. I could not tell if there had been an accident. I tried to reach out to shake her and see if she could hear me. As my hand touched her shoulder, I could feel her cold skin. I grabbed her wrist and observed for any injuries. As I knew I had seen blood before. Upon grabbing her wrist, I could feel a wound on the inside of her arm. My heart sank to the floor. I knew what this would mean. I had turned her wrist over and observed a deep cut that ran up her arm. It started at the wrist and run halfway up to the elbow. I knew this was bad, very bad.

Upon knowing that I could touch her, and she was seriously injured. I immediately reached into the bloody bath water. I placed one arm under her knees and one across her back under her arms and near her ribs. I lifted her from the water and rushed her to the bed. I didn’t know if I could help, but I had to try. I didn’t care about the white sheets on the bed. She needed my help. I laid her down on the bed and took a quick look to access the situation. There were cuts over her body. She had two cuts that run up the inside of both wrists. She has two cuts over her breasts. They ran over a half of the breast. One was on the diagonal across the left nipple and the other ran almost straight against the bottom of the breast. There was a cut on her stomach. There was a cut on the base of the left side of the neck. These cuts looked self-inflicted. I was shocked when I realized this was woman from the jail cell. I quickly checked for a pulse and could not find one. I knew I had to dress the wounds first. Getting the heart beating with CPR would do no good if the blood just ran out through the wounds. I reached over and used the towel and robe to dress the major wounds on her wrists. I tied them to her wrist to ensure there was pressure. I looked around and removed the pillowcase. I tore it in two and used it to apply pressure to the neck wound. The last wounds were the breast wounds. I used my jumper to cover and apply pressure to hopefully stop bleeding. I then started CPR. I did chest compression's and gave breathes for what felt like forever. Nothing had worked. My attempt to save or help her had failed. I sat in the chair next to the bed. I felt a tear fall from both of my eyes. And I said what could have made you hate yourself so much. Why could I not help you?

As I sat there in the chair next to the bed. I could see in the corner of my eye that she had sat up. I turned my head to look and I didn’t know what to do. The dressing that had not been tied to her had just fallen off. She looked at me with eyes that were pitch black. Yet they were not soulless. She then said, “I did this because of what he did to me.” I looked at her and said, “I tried to save you.” She reached across and grabbed my hand. She pulled me over to the bed. And asked that I sit. I sat next to her and she said, “You can’t help me dear. It is too late to help me.” Then she placed her hand on my chest and pushed me back down on the bed. I was now lying flat on my back and had no idea what to expect. It was unsettling. She then laid down next to me and placed her cold head on my chest. Her hair was wet and red with blood. In fact, she was still bleeding, but this didn’t seem to bother me. I heard her say, “I miss all the small things. The taste of chocolate and the smell of roses. The joy I had from white wine. Strawberries. Oh, how I miss strawberries. There is so much I miss. Like being in company of man who behaves like a gentleman.” “I have always like white chocolate myself. Strawberry’s have a nice sweet flavour. I have been a big fan of apples myself.” I replied. “Apples, really, how very dull.” She said with a hint of a giggle. “Not so dull when you use them in a pie.” I said in a joking manner. I then quickly followed with another comment. “I have always thought red roses where very beautiful.” “Yes, they are. What I like best about them is that they can make any room appear like home. They add an unseen element that makes so much difference.” She said. I then asked her a question. “I don’t mean to be rude. But I had to ask. Why are your eyes pitch black?” She replied, “Nothing rude there dear. It is the cost of suicide.” “Oh, I see. Can I ask why you did this?” I said in a curious yet respectful manner. She tensed for a second in discomfort. I didn’t realize how rude my question could have been. She then replied in a stern but calm manner, “That is a story for a different time. All things in their time.” “I meant no offence. The last thing I want to do is offend or hurt you.” I apologized sincerely. “It is okay. You didn’t offend me. Just remember. If you were in their shoes would you want to talk about how you died or what led to it.” She said while looking up at me and giving a half grin. I knew I was forgiven for any transgression I may have made in error. I had so many thoughts and questions. Like whom was this man who made her do this. But some things were better left alone. And I didn’t want to upset her. “Understood, Thank you for your patience with me. Was it you that Samantha told me wanted to see me the last time I was in this home?” I asked her. “Yes, that was me. And Samantha is my sister.” “What of the women that were in the rooms.” I followed with. “Yes, they are all my sisters in a matter of speaking. We all have something in common. The rest look up to me and fear me.” She replied. “Fear you? Why? Is it because of the cuts?” I asked hoping I wasn’t annoying her. “No in life I had a temper. And in death that did not change. And as the Matriarch, I am the one they look up to and they fear me getting upset with them.” She said. I knew it was time to stop with the questions. I replied, “All sisters fight. If there are no disagreements than someone isn’t being honest.” The longer we laid there, the more comfortable she got. And to be honest her talking to me and having her head on my chest felt familiar. I just didn’t know why it was so familiar. I put one of my arms across her cold shoulder and the other arm I lowered to my waist. She reached out and grabbed my hand and held it. “I don’t even know your name. What can I call you?” I asked. “She said in response, “I have been called many things. But you can call me Lucy.” “Lucy, it is nice to meet you. Now we know each other’s names.” I said in a friendly way. I wasn’t sure what was going on. But at this moment it just felt like she didn’t want to be alone. Or she was just simply lonely. It didn’t matter. If she was the same woman from when I was a child, and she was there for me. Then I felt I was my turn to be there for her. I closed my eyes thought I was falling asleep again. But that wouldn’t make any sense. This was supposed to be the dream.