in my dreams I hold onto you like the line of the train is falling as it moves through the tracks invigorated to see us getting along

in shock, I get scared that it’s too good to believe and that’s when the nightmare begins

usually in a train station if not already on the way to somewhere, a house, the same house that haunts my past.

we arrive by foot, by car, by bike, and it’s always received with a clenching electric door, will it stay open to me? us? I think it whispered in my sleep so loud that my jaw was clenching it shut

we barely make it inside the house, and i’m already in terror sweats, both in the dream and in real life. I’m dreading this encounter with the space that cheated on me repeatedly through lies of care and custom. my father’s prints everywhere marking the scene of revenge that those following us crave.

the raptors shoot at us. at the cage that covers our faces from the truth. yet we hide, knowing we’re about to die we hide.

i’ve never seen it like this before. remembering parts of this place more than I do consciously when navigating through to this time in my childhood.

every single time I wake up in tears right as they grab me, throw me, shoot me, hold me. Thinking I can escape their grip like everyone else I scream for help. why? i know nobody is listening, i know the bird has forgotten how to sing a song of hope rather than surrow. but I sing. and here’s where it gets cold.

my therapist says, “rewrite the story, write it once to remember what it was, to pin down the details haunting you, then rewrite it to be different, untangle it” but what I forgot to say is no, just like the dream. I let it seep in knowing it can be different and knowing it can change, but when the chase starts I feel as if I don’t know how to be anything but the mouse.

whoever is with me is better than this. better than the cycle of dreams that keeps haunting for more blood out of us for the mere assumption that there won’t be a peaceful return.

but there will be, and i’m embracing it now more than ever. I always thought that it would mean physically redefining what it would be like to move back home permanently and tend to the land like I foresee tending to myself but the truth is, the real work lies in my shadow, the one rewiting this moment from weakness to power.


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