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My Strength, Her Weakness

A Dream, Gone Story, About Anxiety Manifested

By Teya HooperPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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It's nighttime, midnight has fallen over the area like a blanket, covering this small group of people in sheer blackness. I had stumbled upon them during one of my nightly walks. I assumed they were doing the same as me, enjoying the cool breeze that blows in when the moon comes. I was wrong.

I’m staring at them now and something just seems off. Pure white has glided its way across all of their faces. They were frightened, faces of pure terror.

I glanced around, not really sure what caused the concern or horror. I saw nothing, just pure nightfall staring back at me. Admittedly it did appear to be slightly darker and more eerie than usual, but I saw no need for fear. I slowly walked towards them, not wanting to cause any startles, hoping the look of caring on my face would be enough to let me speak with them.

They’re all staring at me now. Eyes of all different colors with ghosts of fear swirling in them. Some had tears glistening down their cheeks while others were shaking their heads fiercely as though a voice was speaking to them. I stop for a moment, dead in my tracks. Confusion and worry knots in my stomach. I can feel my anxiety trying to hit, starting from my toes and inching its way to my stomach. I swallow down the fear though and take a deep breath. These people need help.

I tried to reach out to the closest person to me. A child, maybe around twelve years, his ears covered by his tiny hands, and his eyes tightly shut. I kneeled down, getting to his height, before gently touching his forearm. His eyes popped open, a mixture of browns and greens staring back at me, as though the earth itself was coming out of hiding.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly. I knew he wasn’t, but I didn’t know how else to approach this.

“Make the voice stop.” He whimpered.

My stomach dropped and I could feel the anxiety coming back, but I pushed further.

“What is the voice saying?” I tried not to let my own voice crack. It didn’t work.

“She doesn’t want you here.” He said quietly, his head hung slightly in defeat. “She said you’re strength is her weakness.”

I’m shaking and yet I can feel my whole body burning. I tried to keep listening.

He looked up slowly and just faintly speaks one last sentence.

“She says you can’t live.”

I stumbled backwards as this child goes back to covering his ears and begins shaking his head. I scramble to get on my feet, ready to run as far as they would take me. But my heart raced and I felt a panic attack forming deep in my chest. My breathing turned ragged and my hands go clammy. They fumbled over the paper bag I have in my back pocket. How did I know that was back there? I shut my eyes, bring the bag to my mouth and remind myself to breathe.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

One more time.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

I tucked the paper bag away in its pocket again before wiping at the remains of a tear on my cheek. It was then that I noticed tiny sparks on my fingertips, I paused.

Both of my hands glowed with electricity.

A warm sensation fell over me as the sparks turn a gold hue, similar to a sunset. I’m so lost as to what’s happening to my fingers that I don’t noticed the group of people coming towards me. One by one they came up and took my hands, feeling the sparks as their color came back to their faces, the looks of terror disappeared. The little boy is the last to touch my hands, holding them gently in his own. He smiles up at me before relaying an oddly clarifying message to me.

“You’re strength, is her weakness. You’re the healer.”

The full feeling of understanding hit me and I smiled. Looking at all these people, troubled by this mysterious darkness, suddenly now feeling serenity and peace, all because of me, was an unexplainable feeling.

If you had asked me how I got here, I wouldn’t have an answer. Not a logical one at least. All I would be able to tell you is that just then, in that moment, helping those people

… simply felt right.

This was where I was supposed to be.

anxiety
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