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A love story

By Matthew GranthamPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
Photo by Davide Sibilio on Unsplash

I woke in a hot sweaty mess again. That damn dream, it’s occurred now each week for a good month I think and it’s always the same. I guess that’s a little lie, there are small changes in the peoples faces and colours around me but it’s always the same situation. I’m fighting for my survival, alone.

I think it started around the time I was my dad died, he had been a huge influence in me and my mum’s life and being an only child I got a lot of their time together. He looked after us both financially and physically, he was a burly man with a reputable job and he was the kindest man… something you wouldn’t expect from his image. He made sure he looked after us in all the situations; when my mum lost her job, when my uncle had a heart attack and even when my mum’s mum passed away he was our rock, our go to person for support and guidance and his love never missed a beat. He passed away suddenly from Cancer. The doctors said that he must have had the tumours for a good 6 months and must have been in a damn lot of pain but we didn’t realise it was causing any affect at all until about 3 weeks before he had gone. It ruined us. Our whole world ripped away from us in a flash and he didn’t know what to do.

I, of course, had different issues to mum who was probably wondering how she was going to support herself and me and pay for the house etc but I had was worried about how I was going to cope going forward without him in my life.

I’ve also known I was different but couldn’t understand why. I didn’t get why kids at school bullied or why adults at work would seem to also stop talking whenever I walked into a room but my dad understood me, he got me. I used to confide in him, as a child and a young adult about what was happening around me and that I just didn’t understand it, I was polite and brought up well enough to respect others so would I always feel like I was at the butt of their joke? My dad would tell me ‘you know, my son, you’re special. You are one of a kind and do you know why you don’t feel like that don’t understand you? That’s because you blind them with your shine and they don’t see you’ my dad used to call me his shiny star and I loved him.

My dad was a captain of a ship and was often away for a good 4 – 6 months at a time and was only really home for a couple of weeks at a time but I was seen and loved so much when he was home it was enough to bare the pain when he was away. It’s been a year since he has passed away, well nearly a year now, I think the anniversary is in a couple of weeks time and there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about him. He used to tell me such amazing stories of the sea and the wonders he has seen, he often used to read stories of his adventures when I was falling asleep, I guess as bed time stories but they weren’t from fairy tales or books but from his memory.

The dream this time around seemed more intense than the others. It started off the same, I was sitting alone in the street with my head in my hands. I always wondered how I got there but I would bring my hands away from my head and would see blood on them, scarlet red stains tainted with mud and I knew I had to run, stand up and run far away, away from where I was.

I ran towards the sea, something compelled me too and from the street I was on I could see the sea, the alluring dark mistress taunting me and calling me closer. The more I ran the louder the noises behind me got and I look around to see a stamp stead of people hurling towards me, threatening to bowl me over. I had to run quicker so I did, I create steam behind me as I went and went straight down the street on the beach. I stumbled as my speed feet hit the soft sand and I tumble and flail around. Feeling my heart race as I realise that sounds have stopped and all is silent and lift my head and see 20 – 30 people standing over me, not only standing but somehow engulfing me. I feel my hands and feet lash out and strike anything they can, I scream and continue on only adrenaline for what seems like ages.

I hear the cool swashing of the waves and I stop, catch my breath and look around and nothing. No one to be seen, the cool calming waters are right in front of me, ebbing away, calling me still into it’s depths. I look up and see a dazzling ship on the horizon, glistening in the moonlight. I am captivated by it, unable to move my eye away from it and then suddenly I hear noise, noise all around and there they are again, all these people up on me and I am overwhelmed, I can feel my skin being pierced and my bones creaking, I can hear their screams and my body failing and then I wake. That’s always when I wake, in cold sweats trying to catch my breath.

I hope they stop soon. They are getting more violent each time. I wonder what they mean? Should I seek help? I wish my dad was here to comfort me, I miss him.


About the Creator

Matthew Grantham

An aspiring writer from the UK

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