In My Dreams

A week ago, I finally saw it and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since. Tucked away. Behind protective glass. Out of my reach, but not out of my dreams.

Before, I had only seen it in old books. Read about it between musty pages like it was a fairy tale. Legends and stories spanning centuries. But now, I know it’s real. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It’s no longer a fairy tale. It made me wonder, are the legends and stories real too? And if they are, that means I could fix everything that’s wrong with me and my shitty life. I can finally get someone to love me that deserves me, and I can finally have some respect, and everyone will stop laughing at me. No one ever takes me seriously, but they will. I know they will. If I can get my hands on it. To feel its cold curves against my chest; the warm leather cord strapped around my neck, to put on full display to the world that I’ve been reborn. Made anew. From my ashes of my sad existence, I’ll rise and shine my light to the heavens so angels will envy me. It’s only a matter of time before I get what I rightfully deserve. Before I get what’s rightfully mine

               Every night, when my eyes close, I see it. I get closer and closer to it, reach my hand through the glass, and right when it’s in my hand, I wake up. But last night, when I woke up in the same spot, my hand tickled like something was there. I’ve been at work all day feeling it sit in the palm of my hand. My nerves tell me something is there. My hand keeps wanting to grab at the dreams that caress my fingertips.

               Tonight, will be the night. I can feel it calling out to me. It cries to be free of its invisible cage, just like me. So, for tonight, I have an idea. I swiped a few sleeping pills from my parents’ house. My bear of a dad takes one of these and he’s out like a light. I’m nowhere near his size, but he isn’t trying to save the one and only Bog Mother’s talisman from his dreams. I hope three will be enough. Bottoms up.

               Now, to crawl into bed with my old stories of the Bog Mother. The stories told of a great witch that used her magic to control the world around her. First, she learned to control nature. She made the plants and trees grow so thick and tall and tightly bound in vines to create a fortress to protect herself. Then she managed to control the animals. They were her eyes and ears. Rats, skinks, and ravens infesting the towns near the bog, she knew of every misdeed and murder, and the darkness that sits in men’s hearts. And finally, she controlled men by smelling out their desperation. The stench of their weak wills, fragile minds, and greedy hands smelled ripe and delicious. But like every other living thing, time ravaged her. Her youthful shapely body became withered and frail. And one day, she simply vanished, like she was carried away by the autumn breeze. Only leaving behind her necklace. Over the years there were hundreds of stories. Some said they heard it whisper to them. Some say it made them nauseous. Others blamed it for their misfortune, and believed it was cursed. But for me, it made me feel electric. Seeing it in the museum gave me goosebumps. It made all my little hairs stand up on end. I didn’t even realize I walked up to it’s little glass box. My eyes skimming every little detail of it. Looking at myself in the beset jewel’s crimson reflection, I heard a whispering chitter. Is it trying to talk to me? What’s it saying? Nervously, I looked around the room. Security is awfully light, just a woman that can barely stay awake in her chair by the exit. Only if they knew what they had sitting right in front of them. Then, a voice spoke in my head, but it didn’t sound like my voice.

“Get me out of here” it spoke.

Turning back to look at the amulet, its glass box has disappeared. The reflection in the middle of the sanguine jewel housed in the talisman wasn’t mine anymore, or at least I don’t think it’s mine.

“Please, take me away from here” it begged.

I looked back at the now sleeping security guard slumped in her chair, and realized no one else was in the room either. Now is my chance.

“Your hands are warm” it smiled.

My head twisted back to see the Bog Mother’s talisman nestled in my hands. When did I put it up? Isn’t there some alarm or something?

“Put me on” it demanded.

I heard the overhead lights turn off with heavy thuds. Looking up, one by one, the lights extinguished from the outer limits of the room. Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! The only light left is directly above. Looking around. The room is swallowed by an unyielding blackness. Except for an exit sign’s defiant glow. I don’t remember there being an exit there. Wait. Why am I wearing the talisman?

“Now! Run!” it yelled.

My feet stepped out of my illuminated haven and into the inky black toward the exit sign. But why can’t I control my feet? Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait!

My feet didn’t find ground. Instead, I flipped and tumbled crashing and screaming into the void and falling out of bed. On the cold floor of my room, I sat up, gasping for air. It’s okay. It’s okay. It was only a dream. It was only a dream. That’s when I felt the leather cord strapped tightly around my neck, and the heft of the talisman resting on my chest. It spoke to me again, saying, “Again, I shall walk this earth with your feet. Taste the world with your mouth. Feel the air on your skin. And it will be most delicious”