Here's how it goes….
", She is in the woods, and she is hurt. That is all her mind can register as her eyes flutter open and she slowly begins to gain consciousness. She is lying flat on the ground, and she is unsure as to how she got there. She attempts to raise her head, but in doing so causes a sharp twinge of pain to radiate through her body in seconds, she settles back on the ground, and with tedious hands she begins to examine her body. There are gashes, bruises, and burns from her shoulders down. She cannot feel all of her visible burns, which means that they must be old or that her nerves have been damaged. She can feel every bruise, cut, and ache, causing a steady burn of pain throughout her body. She doesn't remember how she got them, and with that thought a panic begins to set in. She is lost in the woods, injured, and doesn't know how or why she got there. As her heartbeat continues to grow with her worrying, and nausea begins to gain control over her bodies impulses, she begins to feel blood leaking from her nose, ruby red and fresh. Somehow, a small part of her barely conscious mind knows what the source of this nosebleed is. It is the same reason why there are no birds chirping, no animals scurrying, and no sounds other than her strained breathing in this ever silent mass of a forest.
It is the darkness. She can not only feel its presence, but she can taste it. It is a horrible and most displeasurable feeling, it is oil in her throat and spiders on her legs. She can see it now as it swirls around her legs and arms in black tendrils of silk, causing shivers of fear to shutter through her soul, and it is begging for her attention. It wants her to give in, to allow herself to be immobilized, stuck in this fear, it relishes on the feeling and ache of it.
She knows that this is a dream, her mind has been plagued with them as of late, and it's always this same dream. Yet every time it feels real, too real, so much that she cannot control the flood of emotions she feels throughout it, and she is plagued by the punches of fear, anger, and hurt. Although; the dream is always the same, she still cannot help but succumb to the rawness of it, how it takes over her control. So she lets the dream continue, as she already knows the ending of it. All she can do is hope that this time, once she wakes from it, she won't still feel those silky tendrils of darkness curling around her body and soul. No matter where she sleeps, on her warm bed, the couch, even the floor….she wakes up feeling the remnants of darkness from her dream flouncing about her room.
In her dream she is being chased by someone or something, she is not yet sure what it is, it is far away but she can feel it coming closer. Every time she tries to look back at it, she feels as though someone snaps her head forward and she is denied even the slightest of peeks, but she feels the presence of the monstrosity gaining closeness to her. It's something dark and evil and most definitely out to destroy her from not only the outside, but from the very depths of her soul. She decides to focus her attention again on her surroundings.
She cannot recognize the woods that she is in, there are plants that should not exist on earth plaguing every inch of this forrest, they twirl in unnatural twists and are colored in shades her eyes cannot place as earthly, but dark and shadowed, eery. There are branches on the ground belonging to trees that would tower over man's skyscrapers, taller than any trees known on earth. Although it may not look it, this forest is on earth, that she is sure of.
When she looks up all she can see is the canopy of branches which have formed at the tops of the trees. They block her view of the sky, making it seem as if night has fallen, though she is aware that it is barely the afternoon yet. She is also aware of the fact that time is running out, but she doesn't know what for, or why it matters so much to her. But she feels the panic and anxiety of the time running out. Even as she is still laying on the ground, she feels the urge to escape and reach whatever her destination is.
And through all of this darkness, confusion, and chaos in her head there is a voice yelling at her. She cannot decipher where the voice is coming from or who, as her mind is still numb and there is a dull pounding in her skull that is keeping her from gaining full control over her mind and body.
But the voice is persistent, and the haze in her mind is beginning to clear.
As she begins to slowly rise up onto her feet, her mind clears enough for her to hear and register what the voice is yelling at her to do, she still cannot decipher where the voice is coming from, but clear as day she hears the simple demand it shouts.
"Run!"
The voice is raspy and female, and it has a hint of an accent that she cannot yet place. The voices demand settles in her brain and she takes a shallow step forward. With that, she is bombarded with the sheer force a sudden wave of emotions hits her with, and she sees hazy flashes of her earlier whereabouts and feels the past anger and pain, but she still stutters forward.
Branches snapping, leaves crunching, lungs burning. That is all her mind can register as she treks her way onward.
Even this slow pace is causing her abused lungs to ache, begging her to lay back down. The fear is also taking a toll on her.
She is fearful of the being that wants her, part of her mind says to succumb to the fear while the other part says to get the hell away from it. As she begins to slow down to an almost standstill, she again hears that voice break through her haze of fear and anxiety.
"Run, please, you have to run!"
This time the voice shouts in desperation at her.
Understandance takes hold of her body before her mind, and her legs begin a steady pace forward. When she looks back to try and locate the owner of the voice, her head is again whipped forward, this time though the feel of the true nature of the ghastly entity chasing her, hits her harder than her previous wave of emotions. This, it's a tsunami of terrifying fear, panic, and hate which hits her. At that she begins a frantic run forward, lungs and aches be damned.
A heavy gust of wind, balance tethering, knees scraping, panic setting. And she's back on the ground again.
But this time the voice doesn't allow her a moment of hesitation as it screeches with a forceful demand.
"Run Venus! Get up now!"
And that voice triggers something, a realisation in her mind, wait no, in my mind, this is my dream, I am Venus. My mind is now fully cleared, and I am now fully aware both in and out of this dream. I realize in my dream that I am in danger, so much danger, but I still don't know from what. Now that my mind and body are again working as one, I begin a new purposeful, run forward at a pace I didn't know I could ever run. And as I'm running forward, jumping over twigs and leaping over rocks, there is a new kind of emotion, gnawing at my chest. A fear so real and harsh that my mind cannot allow itself to fully process it.
First comes the silence, lightning fast, it is sudden and striking. Then comes the fear, thundering through my mind, it is booming and powerful.
A heaviness in my chest. Thump...thump…thump, all I can hear is my heartbeat as I race through the woods and into the clearing. The clearing, that is my final destination, that is where I must go.
I still don't know the owner of the female voice yelling at me to run, I still don't know what or who it is that I am running from, all I know is that I must make it to the clearing ahead. I can already see it, can practically feel it in my bones. Whatever it is that is in that clearing, luring me forward, must be of impeccable beauty and power.
From the distance I can see that the clearing is mystical and grand, with wildflowers blooming from every angle, and silky vibrant green grass. A stark contrast to the woods just bordering the edge.
I know that time is running faster than my legs could ever dream. And this fear leaking into my heart, from the monstrosity chasing me, will soon consume me like fire to wood.
I am close through, so close to the clearing, when suddenly it grabs me from behind and I fall straight down onto my chest, my face digging into the dirt. It is gripping my ankles with clawed hands, claws that I cannot see but can feel. My face is digging deeper into the dirt as I'm dragged back, but I still can feel those claws scarring and marking my ankles with every kick and struggle I make. I am flooded with the fear and realisation that I have failed, and I am about to face a danger of the likes which have never been seen before. I feel panic, I feel anxiety, I feel anger, and most of all I feel fear, and it's clawing at me and destroying my very soul.
And then, I never get to actually see the creature dragging me into the darkness, I always wake up, right as I'm able to whip my head back, I always shoot up awake in bed. It is the most frustrating part of my dream."
I explain this all to my therapist sitting on her lavish white club chair, thoughtfully taking notes onto the piece of typical white lined paper, lying on her typical looking clipboard, and wearing her typical classy and polished clothing. But there is nothing typical about my being here.
I myself am seated upon the black chaise lounge designated for patients. I would fully lay on it, but then this would all feel too real, like I'm actually in therapy. My mother forced me to come here, to explain and expose the sources and feelings of my anxiety, to talk about what it is that's been keeping me up, having restless sleeps at night. What they think has led to my non-existent depression.
It's all infuriating to me, being forced to be here when there are many other places I could be. My therapists interrupts my thoughts with another annoying question
She looks straight into my eyes, such a contrast our eyes are to one another's. My eyes, a dull hazel green speckled with flecks of yellow and brown, have been described as fierce and harsh, judgmental in nature. Meanwhile her eyes are soft, uptilted, doey brown, and kind, the sort of eyes that with one look can have you spilling your deepest darkest secrets. I would know, as I once had a friend with eyes like hers, a best friend someone that I trusted and thought of as a sister. That 'friend' ended up spilling each and every last one of my secrets. I've learned my lesson since then, and I will not let myself be manipulated by the false sense of security found within kind eyes, not again. So I brace myself as she is about to ask me her next question, if I were her I wouldn't push my luck. I already spilled my dream to her after she asked me to, and I am not in the mood to offer any more information than I already have.
", And then after the dream, once you've woken up, how exactly do you feel. Is that feeling of fear still evident?" her voice is soft and silky, her words flowing languidly off her tongue.
I know I should think carefully before answering, I shouldn't snap or answer with a rude remark, but my frustration is growing. I already answered this question earlier while describing the details of my dream to her. So why is she asking me again? Is she trying to catch me in a lie or something? Unfortunately the thoughts in my head don't seem to connect with my mouth fast enough and I blurt out my remark.
", Hmm how do I feel….I feel as though I'm tired, and I feel as though I want to go back to freaking sleep. That is how I feel after I have just woken up from a horrible nightmare," I say emphasizing the word feel with each statement. I'm not entirely sure why I decide to do that. I look up at her hoping to see distaste or annoyance, instead what I get makes me furious. Pity, there is a pity caring and understandance laced within the kindness of her eyes. Not even a hint or undertone of the emotions I'm looking for. I think I could have handled any response besides pity. As if sensing my anger, she quickly and subtly changes the subject.
"So…." she begins before her eyes glance at the door, being cut off by its sudden opening. I've always admired her cherry red office door, especially when its opening for me to leave.
I audibly sigh in relief, and excitement tingles through my body. As I see it is my father standing at the door, the shadowsinger visibly uncomfortable to be interrupting. My therapy session not supposed to ending for at least another half hour. My father, it seems, has come to my rescue. He never was fully on board with the idea of my going to therapy, but eventually gave into my mother's pleads to at least give it a try. He always gives into my mother. I will never understand why. When all my mother has ever done is hurt him, at least in my opinion.
My parents, two elite members of the Night Courts inner circle- Azriel and Mor, always looked like the perfect match. My father had been in love with my mother since the day he laid eyes on her, and it seemed as though my mother was in love with him too. They married and then eventually gave birth to me. Everything was going smoothly. We were the picture perfect family. At least until my mother decided to ruin our happy little family in favor of creating her own with the female that she'd actually always been in love with. I don't know if I can ever forgive her, not for leaving me, but for how she used my father all those years. A cover for her secret until she felt ready to reveal it. I will never forget the first and only time I have ever seen my father cry, was when she packed her bags and left.
My father coughs, clearing his throat before saying in his deep and raspy voice ", Sorry for interrupting, but Venus will be leaving early with me, as we have prior commitments to other activities today."
His eyes meet mine, and with the knowledge only a daughter could have I recognize the mischievous undertones and am fully aware that I have no other commitments today. My father, my saviour, is helping me play therapy session hooky.
My therapist, ever the composed lady, calmly stands onto her feet reaching to shake my father's hand and then mine before giving her goodbyes ", it's been a pleasure to listen to you Venus," she looks at my father continuing ", your daughter is an exquisite story teller."
My father only nods his head in agreeance before turning to me and motioning out the door. Of course I immediately oblige him taking large steps out towards my freedom.