I Had a Dream. No. A Nightmare.

June 8, 2012
By ShaShaShabrica SILVER, Mattawamkeag, Maine
ShaShaShabrica SILVER, Mattawamkeag, Maine
7 articles 0 photos 4 comments

His body lays there. Cold. Soulless. Nothing there but a old body. You look in his eyes and there’s nothing beyond them. No story, no life. Everybody says it’s hard to leave this person, their body just laying there. One thing to remember though. It’s just a body. Their soul has left and you never really got to say goodbye, but yet you seem to find solace, closure in saying goodbye to the figure laying there in front of you. Why? Because you did something wrong to them? Because you feel bad that you weren’t able to do more with him? You feel sorry for him but yet, inside you’re happy it wasn’t you.

“There he is,” murmured the man in the white coat.

Everything about this older man gave me a safe feeling. The gentle smile when he asked me to go inside the brown burgundy door. The small wrinkle lines his eyes made. The soft touch of his hand on my shoulder. I felt secure around him. But yet, I knew in my heart, the only reason he was giving me that look was because he had bad news. He had something that could shake the blood coursing through my veins, which gave me a whole new perspective on this man.

“Go on,” he whispered, “there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

That’s when I knew. Knew that I was not here for something small like a broken leg. I was here for a much more important reason. A death. A death that would change the way everything was. The way that my family went about the day.

My head wanted to run out of this place as fast I could but my heart wouldn’t let me. My heart wouldn’t let me escape this fear I’ve had for so long. It wanted me to continue. To fight off this battle. To prove to the world that I’m not afraid of getting hurt.

“Thank you,” I shivered.

As I approach the door my heart beats. Beats to the sound of the clock ticking. Telling me how long I have before I lose another. Beats to the motion of the patients’ footsteps. Beats to the tears dropping to the ground. Beats. Beats. Bests.

“Hey Shayla,” came the voice inside the empty room, “are you ok?”

I was stunned as to what I saw in that room. “Yah, I’m fine considering I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Time will tell you sweetie, time will tell you.”

“Mom, what do you mean by that? You always have something to say yet I don’t understand what it is,” I yelled as I flustered with anger. “I want straight out answers and I want them now. For one, What happened to grampy? And for two when is he coming home?”

“Sweetie, I don’t tell you these things because I know that it will terrify you. That it will shake you out cold,” mom whispered with tears forming at the edge of her eyes.

She didn’t have to tell me anymore. I already knew by now the answer to my questions. Something killed him. Something drained the energy out of his body, the smile off his face. Something took the plans that I have gathered with him and ripped it away from both of us.

He was gone, there’s no doubt about that. I couldn’t go in there and try to convince myself that everything was ok. I wouldn’t go in there and say my last goodbyes when I knew that there was nothing to say goodbye to. Just a body. So I left the room without another word...and there was no turning back.

Darkness flooded the halls, the rooms, the people’s faces. Men in white trench coats covered in blood walked the halls with little white smirks on their faces.

A faint whisper came from the room at the end of the hall but I wasn’t sure who it was coming from. Yet I felt like I was being drawn to the dark room for a reason so I didn’t hesitate.

I entered the room with a gravitational push as I felt uneasy. Everything around me shook and spun and there was no escape from it.

There he was. Laying in his bed, happy, fragile and very pale. His eyes were the color of burnt gems and it terrified me. It sent a quiver down the middle of my spine that I couldn’t shake away. Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that I couldn’t shake it away but yet...because I didn’t want to get rid of it.

“Get out,” rang through my ears.

I was stunned. I thought that he was gone. I thought that it was only his body laying there in front of me but yet he just spoke to me. Or I thought he did.

“Don’t you ever listen, I don’t want you here. You are nothing but trouble and you are the reason that I am suffering,” shouted my grandfather.

“What are you talking about?” I cried out to him.“I’m Shayla, your granddaughter,” I sniffed, “I was coming to make sure that you were all right.”

He screamed. And screamed. And screamed. “You killed me, you killed me, you killed me, you killed me, you killed me.”

I killed him, I killed him, I killed him, I killed him ran through my mind like a bullet train late for its pickup. My mind drained out the words that he was saying and translated into words that I could understand.

“No, No, No, No, No,” I screamed myself back awake.

“Shayla. SHAyla. SHAYLA. Sweetie are you ok? What’s wrong?”

“Grampy, I just saw grampy. He was alive and didn’t want to see me. He blamed me for his death. He screamed, and screamed, he screamed for me to get away,” I cried into my mother’s arms.

I felt so warm in her arms with her blue satin shirt on. Everything drifted away through the silence for a short amount of time. Then she asked the question and it all came back.

“Why would you think this? He loved you. He was proud of you. He never, never had the assumption that you would want to hurt him or that you are a bad person. He loved you and I wish that you wouldn’t think that way.”

I made sure that I whispered so the rest of the people in the house wouldn’t know what’s going on in my mind. “Mom, what should I do? I wasn’t there. I wanted to hang out with my friends instead of spend time with him. I should be blamed. I did kill him. He wanted me there and I wasn’t. How am I supposed to live with the guilt that I have building up inside me right now?”

Mom smirked a little bit. Not because she was happy or found something funny but because she wanted me to feel better by her acting like nothing was wrong. “You pray. You pray and pray and pray and don’t stop. Praying helps. It gives you a sense of hope and satisfaction. It lets you know that God is going to be there with you every step of the way.”

That’s when I let go of her, said thank you, and asked her to leave. As she was leaving she gently turned around, looked at me with her burnt eyes, then simply walked out of the room and went about her day like nothing happened.

I went to bed with the hope of no dreams. I prayed and prayed just like she told me. I needed the prayer. I needed it not only of the dream that was causing me stress but for anyone else that had to go through the same things that I am. Everything was hazy and to be honest, the best that I have felt in 2 years.

I awoke with nothing but hope, faith, and thankfulness. No dreams awoke me in the middle of the night. No dreams conquering the way that I went about my day. No dreams that made me feel like I was worth nothing. No dreams.

Right then and there I knew that I grew up overnight. I took a fear that I had and got rid of it. Stripped it away from every part of my body, never to worry about again.

The author's comments:
When my grandfather died it was so hard and I started to have dreams about him. But they weren't happy. They showed me a whole new side of him.

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