He Leaned in to Listen
Be careful who you let into your dreams
[He leaned in to listen
with a reassuring smile.]
Tell me your dream.
I was in an ancient woods,
as if peeled from a tapestry
in some medieval castle.
Tall straight trees with no end in sight,
and no path.
My feet were bare on the grass.
What were you doing in the wood?
I was running.
Running toward something,
or away?
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 were you running from?
…
Who pursued you?
…
Before the running,
what were you doing?
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.
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.
And what could you feel to the touch?
The spring earth beneath me,
solid and resilient as I reclined.
Sun shining through air so still
I could sense the current
of a hurled knife
before I felt its sting
on my neck.
Warm blood trickled like sap.
What did you do?
My hand reached up
to hold my neck
to stop the spurting blood.
A heartbeat of shock
Then I scrambled up and left
the clearing.
You ran.
Weaving, dodging through the trees,
the only trail the one I made
with my blood.
Blades
spiking the branch beside me,
stabbing the grass by my footfall,
shredding my hair,
grazing the hand
clutched to the gash on my neck.
Who pursued you?
I never saw his face.
But I know it was a man.
I could hear his laughter.
His laughter?
It amused him
to hurl knives at me,
to make me run,
to watch my wild-eyed stumbling.
No meaning to my bloody panic
but his play.
You must have been terrified.
Staggering, every step slowing.
Every second expecting
a searing slice through skin.
Every silence waiting
for his absurd laughter.
And what happened to your companion?
What companion?
The one with you at the picnic.
I … never mentioned her.
How did you know she was there?
…
How could you know?
...
Answer me!
Let’s start over.
Tell me about your dream.
No. No!
I already told you!
Tell me again.
I enjoy
hearing about your dreams.
[He smiled, and his teeth
flashed like knives]
About the Creator
Sonia Heidi Unruh
I love: my husband and children; all who claim me as family or friend; the first bite of chocolate; the last blue before sunset; solving puzzles; stroking cats; finding myself by writing; losing myself in reading; the Creator who is love.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
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Comments (6)
I think I anticipated something of what happened, but the truth became so much more terrifying. The italicized voice really felt like a psychologist, but as soon as he said "let's start over, tell me about your dream" I was like, NO, he's like an Inception villain! I initially thought he was a husband or maybe a friend, but, gee, I hope not. "It amused him to hurl knives at me, to make me run, to watch my wild-eyed stumbling. No meaning to my bloody panic but his play. You must have been terrified." I read his line as void of emotion. Well done capturing his character so well in a single line, with almost no context for how we should read it. Mind blown. Onto the poem itself. Holy crap, Sonia, this is written so amazingly! I love the structure. The short lines, the way the long phrases are broken up smaller to promote that stilted memory of a dream, the flashes of scenes, the running from a villain. You wrote a thriller chase scene, but in a dream, with a surreal villain able to cross the dream realm. Who is this baddie? I'm terrified of him and deeply curious how he does what he does, and why he has a sadistic interest in our speaker. Stunning work, Sonia, truly. ❤️ 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
Speechless. From end to begin I was captivated!
There are layers to this that I can not even begin to describe. I like the way the narrative evolves, just like when I am trying to recall a dream; it all comes back to me out of order, backwards. The interview style serves the story well, it frames it and propels it forward. And then, that same questioning is what turns it into a nightmare. There is consistency in the descriptions, cohesiveness. The pathless woods mentioned earlier makes my favorite phrase “the only trail the one I made with my blood” resonate magnificently and viscerally. It brings to light that this is indeed a world made by the speaker, with their own blood even. Maybe this beautiful place would not exist without the bleeding, without the unknown attacker. I am spellbound by this.
Wow, that was fabulous. Well done.
Excellent. Love the pace. 🥰
Oh, I felt that coming. This was intense and intriguing. So good!!