Bleeding No. 6

I keep having these dreams.


There was this one dream that was sort of loosely based on that upcoming horror movie, The Hills Have Eyes. I was in this old, abandoned desert town with B and some of our friends. We were being attacked by these horrible creatures and people were dying all around us, but he kept dragging me though, planning, setting things up to get us out. In a reality that only makes sense in dreams, he found someone he knew a little and got them to come pick us and the few remaining survivors up.

When they got there, he got me in the car, and was climbing in himself, but this girl and her grandmother were struggling to follow, so he climbed back out after I told him not to, and helped them get in the other car. The guy who came to get us slammed my door and the driver locked me in the back alone, as the creatures drew nearer. B was still outside, running along the car, trying to get them to stop and let him in. I was screaming and crying in the back and pounding on the window, but the driver just laughed.

I knew there was nothing I could do as I saw him drop away, knowing there was no chance. The last chance was gone. I was hysterical watching him disappear behind us. He waved.

I woke up, sweaty, my heart racing. I reached across the pillow wall he always builds and felt for him. He was there; I said, "I had a nightmare. It was horrible. I'm scared." He moved the pillows and pulled me close to him, pressing his body against mine. I couldn't shake off the image of him being left behind.


Just last night, I had this other dream. It was much less narrative and I remember very little, except that for some reason, my dad was alive again. I knew he had died when I was twelve, but somehow he was alive again. And I had a chance to be with him, but I wasn't. I knew he was dying again, and I was too busy to be with him.

He died and I had no new memories, except that of him wanting me there, and me too busy to sit with him, be with him.


I know what these dreams are and it hurts. I can't think about anything else but the end, and holding on to it for as long as I can, keeping things exactly the same, laughing, talking, being happy and numb and close. Cause it will be gone, and no matter what he thinks, I will never be the same again.