Falling in the Dark


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I lay awake in bed staring up at my ceiling.  It’s morning but there is no light coming in through my curtains.  It’s pitch black.  The only thing I can hear is the swoosh swoosh noise of the ceiling fan going round and round.  It takes a while to adjust my eyes to the darkness around me.  When I do I immediately close my eyes again so as not to lose my most recent nightmare or dream to some.  

Everyone that I’ve ever met has had the dream where they fall. They fall from the sky or off a building or from some other place high up.  For some people falling isn’t very terrifying, it’s exhilarating, an adrenaline rush. For others it’s horrible, especially for those that are afraid of heights. 


 I hate these nightmares.  Where you feel like the world is dropping out from under you and there isn’t a way to stop it.  You’re alone and you don’t know what to do.  You become so scared that your body jumps you out of sleep in the most heart wrenching way.  I have these falling dreams but there has always been something a little different about it compared to what I’ve heard about others falling dreams.  As I’m falling I feel some other alien feeling right along with it.  It’s a strange feeling; a feeling of being pinched and squeezed but there isn’t anything there actually doing the pinching and squeezing.  I feel like I’m being squeezed so hard that my head is going to pop.  Like the way your head feels when you have a lot of sinus pressure.  There is an achy feeling.  It’s frightening.  I’ve been having that nightmare from the time I was a child.  It’s the one that has scared me the most of all my recurring nightmares.  It’s the one that’s hardest for me to comprehend no matter how much effort I put into my attempts to analyze. 

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m going to experience this nightmare at least once a month.  I always dread the fact that it’s coming and there isn’t anything I can do stop it.  



Enchanter’s Nightshade


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Enchanter’s Nightshade: broad leaved enchanter’s nightshade, sorcerer of Paris, Witch’s Grass, Great Witch Herb, Wood magic herb, Paris nightshade, Herb of St Etienne, St Stephen’s wort.  

When I think of Enchanter’s Nightshade I think of nighttime revelries that occur under a full moon amidst many beautiful wildflowers.  What also comes to mind are the many nightmares that have been repeating nightly for me for the past few weeks.  The only reason that I remember this nightmare is because it is a recurring one.  I usually have a very hard time remembering anything that I dream of, whether it be good or bad.  

The very few times that I have remembered a dream is whenever I get that déja vu feeling.  I remember, “I’ve dreamed this before.” My friends and family like to call them prophetic dreams.  In this recurring nightmare I am in the middle of a field of wildflowers.  It’s beautiful.  I stand under a full moon, under a sky that is the color of spilled ink.  An inky, smudgy dark blue color.  There isn’t a star in the sky to be seen and the moon is so big it looks like it takes up half the sky.  I’m alone, nobody else around for miles and miles and no sounds of nature to remove the oppressive silence that is overwhelming despite the beauty that surrounds me.  

In this place time seems to stand still.  One minute can feel like an eternity.  I stand there for 20 trying to understand where I am and what’s happening.  Where is everyone and everything.  When I eventually become disquieted enough I attempt to move.  I struggle and struggle and continue to struggle to move without any results but it is too dark to see what is keeping in place.  I start to feel things moving around me in the dark, crawling up my legs over my feet and under me.  I’m being overrun by vines and plants and just as I’m about to be covered completely I awaken.  Heart pounding, sheets stuck to my body soaked through with sweat.  I never get to the end of the dream.  I always awaken before I’m engulfed.  

Beautiful Fantastical Reality


There are many moments in my life that have become compounded by a song, certain lyrics or even just a specific rhythm or beat.  But there is one that will always and forever hold a special place in my heart.  Many people might not understand it but I do.  This song isn’t slow, it isn’t a ballad and doesn’t scream romance in the traditional sense of the word, but to a 13 year old girl who was experiencing her first crush, along with her first kiss and her first boyfriend, it was everything. It was the embodiment of what she felt this boy felt for her. 


So the story goes like this: It was the summer of 96′ right before I was starting my 8th year of schooling.  There was a boy who I considered to be the epitome of cute and adorable.  He was my age and he came from a family with 8 other siblings.  His grandmother was friends with my mother so we spent a fair amount of time around each other.  We would play games, talk, hold hands and laugh together among other things. His name was Keith and he was beautiful.  We talked about everything and anything that we could think up for hours.  Sometimes we would even spend the night together sleeping side by side, innocently of course, when my mother would stay for long nights talking with his grandmother at their house.  Our parents used to joke about us getting married when we grew up and how things would be.  We were inseparable.  He did for me and I for him. At that age I considered what I felt for him love and in certain respects it was love.  It was a wonderful summer and a wonderful year that lead up to it.  The reason I chose the song I did is because this was our song.  This was the song he would “sing” to me, if that’s what you would call it.  He made me feel special and important and cared for.  I felt like he could give me the world.  

Alas that all came to end towards the beginning of the school year when I found out that he and his family were moving to Florida.  I was heartbroken.  I didn’t know what I was going to do without my bestfriend.  He was everything to me at that age.  We wrote each other for a long time after that and my family and I even went to Florida to visit with them but it wasn’t enough. We were still very young and we drifted apart.  

About 3 or 4 years later I heard about him and how he was doing. He was in school doing what he needed to do to be successful in his life.  I still miss that innocence and newness and excitement I had when I was younger.  You don’t get to experience something that special very much in a lifetime and I wouldn’t trade my experience for anything. 


Mon Rêve

I sometimes wish I could remember my dreams…but then I think there has to be a reason I do not remember them. Then I try and remember. And I try and I try and I continue to try to no avail. A person once told me that the reason some people do not remember their dreams is because they are too horrific to even contemplate.  But that just causes me to want to remember even more. What happened?  Why am here?  Where is here?   I am currently standing in a graveyard looking into a 6 foot deep ditch in the ground.  Surrounded by people who claim to love me and supposedly love the person being put into the ground at the moment,  but I can’t help  think how false this all seems to be.  I love the
people here and I subconsciously know that they in turn love me but I just cannot seem to feel it or accept it. I am going to start at the beginning and hopefully this will all make sense  in the end to both you and I.