Pavor Nocturnus

Aug, 1^st, 2019

  9:35 P.M., bed time. My therapist suggested writing a dream journal. To help find some, solace inside myself. So here I am, writing down my dreams. Trying to understand, to make sense of it all. I think it’s a joke, but what do I have to lose by trying? Most people can remember most of their lives , family, friends, relationships. But for me, I can’t remember anything beyond ten years ago, when the dreams started. Odd right? I’ve spent ten years is darkness. What happened? Why can’t I remember? I mean, I know my parents, I have friends and a good woman. They all love me, but ten years ago. It’s all a blur. Like a silent film seen after being buried for a hundred years. The image is there, but it’s obscure. I dunno, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe I hit my head, or was in a bad accident that is blocking my memories. There has to be a reason.   

Aug, 2^nd, 2019

    It’s 2:45 A.M., I can’t sleep. I keep staring at the ceiling, hoping to silence my mind. Who is she? The mouthless woman in white, in my dreams? Well, more like nightmares. I have seen her, every night when I close my eyes for the past decade. She never speaks, but then again. How can she? The nightmares always start the same. I wake up, laying face down in the woods. I stumble to my feet, follow the broken stone path. I reach a clearing, where an old, dilapidated house sits. I look up to the second story window, there she stands. Looking at me, her eyes holding a secret that her mouth can’t speak. I walk to the door, place my hand on the knob. Then suddenly, I wake up in a cold sweat.  What does this mean, what does she want? Carl Jung says, “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves. Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.” I believe this, woman has something to tell me. Some, deep dark secret I may have buried in my subconscious. If only I could open the door. 

Aug, 5^th, 2019 

    4:22 A.M., awake again, same vivid dream. Except this time, the door opened. Then all went black as I heard the sound of a crow, tapping on a window. Then suddenly, a flash of light and a blood drenched scream. I collapse to my feet, covering my ears from the horrid sound. I can’t breath, I am choking on my own breath. God, can it be? Am I dying? Is this the big secret? Startled awake, gasping for air. The door is open, I am inside. But still, I have no idea what it means. 

Aug, 7^th, 2019

    My nightmares are vivid, haunting. But they hold a secret, something deep, dark and cryptic. Am I dying? What could this all possibly mean? I don’t remember life before the nightmares began. It’s been 10 long years of unanswered questions. Of subconscious messages played out like a sick horror film on repeat. I’m inside the house now. The screaming has stopped, I slowly remove my hands. I look around, no one is there. Where is she? Where is the woman in white? The room is cluttered by chaos and destruction. It appears, something terrible has occurred here. Dried blood, stains the carpet.  Broken empty picture frames fill the floor. Holes in the wall, like something or someone went crazy. I see a stair case, leading up to complete darkness. I walk to the stairs, gaze up into the darkness. From out of the darkness, I see the crow. He stands there, looking at me. We lock eyes and he flys away. I slowly make my way to the top, disappearing into the darkness. Awake again, cold sweat. But somehow, at peace. I’m close. 

Aug, 8^th, 2019

    The ending or the beginning. To be honest, I think they are one and the same. From out of the cold dark, I walk Into a candle lit hallway. A single door at the end, a trail of bloody hand prints leads to it. I slowly make my way to the door, I grab for the handle. An over whelming sensation of guilt over comes me. I open the door, walk inside. Sitting at the window, in an old beaten down rocker. I see her, the woman in white. Finally! We are face to face. I ask, “what do you want with me?” Silence as she slowly rocks. “Please, help me understand.” Nothing, the silence is so thick, I can almost taste it. I take a step forward, the chair stops. She slowly rises from the chair, she turns to face me. Such beauty in such a lost face. She points to me. “ What? I don’t understand.” Silent still, Until- Drip. Drip. I look down, blood is running down my fingers from my wrist. I quickly grab ahold, trying to stop the bleeding. “Help me! Please! I don’t want to die!” The crow appears at the window, tapping again. I collapse to my knees. A shattered picture frame lay before me. I reach out and pick it up. I recognize the woman in the photo, but I cant place why. I lock eyes with the woman in white, looking for an explanation. Her face transforms. Her eyes, that for the last 10 years, had been a dull gray, lifeless almost- suddenly become a bright crystal blue. Her hair once thin and brittle, becomes a lush brown with delicate curls. She was the woman in the photo! and she was my wife? Oh my God, she was my wife. Suddenly, a flash of light. My mind is filled with images of the woman, covered in blood and bruises. Crying in a corner. She looks so scared, what can it be? Why is she so scared? A figure emerges, from out of the darkened door way, walks a man. Bloody knuckles, covered in sweat with rage In his eyes. “My god, the man is me!” I utter as I begin to cry. A brief memory breaks through , an image I’ll never forget. The woman in white, walking down the isle of a packed church. As I stand there, waiting. Suddenly, she grabs ahold of her mouth. Digging her fingers in on each side. She rips open the flesh, covering her mouth. Blood spills like a waterfall. Again, the scream from before. But this time, my ears are open. 

Aug, 12^th, 2019

   I can’t dream of you anymore, if I did. I’d save you from myself, I can’t come see you anymore. I’ve tried to reach you, but my dreams are black. I deserve no solace, for what I did, no forgiveness.  I am the monster of my nightmares. I now know the truth, hidden behind her eyes. My wife, of 2 years is dead, by my hands. How could I do such a terrible thing? She was so beautiful, so innocent. I snuffed her out like a dying candle. I’m so sorry for what I did to you, Sarah. This is my story, my confession. Ten years ago, I  was filed with a darkness that can not be explained. I committed a terrible act, then my mind broke and buried it away. But the reality is, we can never escape who we truly are.