Chapter 20
I lie in bed that night, thinking of the Ouija board, clenching my fists as though to block out the memory of the planchette trembling beneath my fingers. I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise, therefore, that the dream I fall into is a nightmare.
This one starts differently than the other.
It’s daytime and I’m in the woods by the river.
I can hear the water, floating musically over the rocks.
It’s so beautiful. The leaves overhead are lush and green.
The air smells of pine, of cold stone, of moss and dirt, of some faint sweetness.
I catch a shadow move in the periphery of my vision and turn my head, expecting to see a deer.
The sun must be passing behind a cloud because there is a sudden darkening, the colors that were so vibrant a moment ago becoming faded and muted.
I look up and see deep gray clouds, from opposite ends of the sky rolling toward each other, like armies converging at battle.
I look back to where the deer should be, as I still sense its presence.
I squint my eyes to see better, but the trees seem to swim in front of them.
I reach up to rub my eyes but find that I can’t.
My hands are behind my back. I try again to move my hands, but they feel as though they are in handcuffs.
I start to panic. Even though I cannot see clearly, I realize that it is not a deer in front of me.
I can see a dark, shadowy outline, tall and curved.
It looks over at me now, just for a moment, and the movement sends ice spreading through my limbs and into my lungs.
I crane my neck and blink my eyes, shake my head violently.
I need to see what is happening in front of me.
But the more I struggle, the more my vision swims in grays and browns.
I begin to hyperventilate. And then, a woman’s face, with eyes that are cold and cutting, appears clear as day.
I want to look away but cannot. She opens her mouth and a shriek blasts out, and I can feel it hit my face like a gale-force wind.
My eyes snap open. The faintest outline of gray limbs swim before my eyes.
For a moment I think I am still there, in the woods.
But I realize I was asleep. I can feel pounding in my ears and realize my breath is fast and shallow.
A panic attack, like a ravenous snake, is ready to uncoil.
There’s a glass of water on my bedside table, which I grab with both hands and drain in one go.
Then I use a trick my therapist taught me.
I focus on my breath. I focus on my hands.
Ten fingers. Five on each hand. My body is real.
I’m not dead. I place a hand on my belly. I think of my baby.
Gradually, my breathing returns to normal.
It was just another nightmare. A hellish one.
But a nightmare. Christ almighty. I’m too scared to go back to sleep right away.
So, I lie there, in a state of waking dreams, until I hear the front door open and close below, and the sounds of Topher puttering about.
It’s only then, with that grayish light beginning to peek through the blinds, that I let my eyes finally close, and I drift off into a sleep so deep, I’m not even sure dreams exist there, and I feel safe.