Published on Saturday, 26 May 2012 11:14
Written by Jules
Some dreams make me so tired. I am tired of waking up screaming four, and five times a night. I am tired waking up startled and sitting up straight in bed, only to wonder what it was that scared me . And mostly, I am tired of not really remembering what it is about these dreams that bothers me so much.
I have a few dreams that repeat over and over. I have had them since I was very young, about four years old if I can pinpoint the age. I tend to mark my memories by where I lived when the thing happened. In the timeline of when this particular repetitive dream started, I know I was living in the Canyon Country house. I know that I had the bedroom with the princess furniture, and the bed with the purple draped canopy.
I try to put as many memories of this time in my life together as I can. I feel that if I can piece more and more if it together, I will come up with the reasons surrounding the power of this dream, this nightmare.
I remember the bedroom so clearly. I remember that I had my Aunt Donna's bedroom furniture from when she was a teen. The white furniture included what we might call a "Lingerie Chest". This is a tall cabinet that is narrow. The top section had little doors I could open and keep my child sized real china tea set arranged. The bottom portion had four or five drawers where I kept some of my clothes.
My desk was really a make-up desk. A Vanity. The center lifted open and the top had a mirror. The inside was meant to store your secret girl formulas for becoming beautiful.
I also had a dresser and a nightstand. The nightstand was, of course next to the bed. I remember falling out of bed one morning, and landing on the open drawer of the nightstand. This left horrid scratches across my back.
I was a very lucky little princess. My nineteen year old mother was able to decorate the bedroom of her little girl with the furniture of a sweet sixteen bedroom set, with a lush purple, canopied, floor to ceiling, draped headboard, with velvet rope tie backs. With all belongings meticulously organized, and toys like miniature china sets, and a large display of exquisite Madame Alexander Dolls, it was hardly believable that anyone lived in the room, let alone a four year old. The room was perfect.Except for the one thing in that room that I had, and no one had, any control over.
My room was next to the bathroom. The closet shared a wall with the shower tub on the other side of the wall. That meant that inside the closet was the little access door to the plumbing. If something were to go wrong in the shower plumbing, they could open that door to expose the pipes.
Many nights, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, I would hear a noise from that door. To begin with, I did not know that insomnia was a known issue for the average four year old. However, I don't think I was the average four year old. I would finally drift off to sleep hearing the sound of rhythmic drums. The sound was most assuredly coming from the door in the closet.
When I fell asleep to that noise, I would have a dream. The dream that I still have to this day.
The dream starts out the same. I climb out of bed in a long white nightgown. It's a nightgown I never have owned. I am always the same age in the dream as I am in my waking life at the time.
I open the small access door and somehow, no matter my size, I easily am able to fit through the entry.
A smooth, shiny, stone stairway leads down. It winds slightly to the left. I descend carefully, as the drums get louder, their rhythm steady.
I reach a point where I can see the source of the drums. Or at least I should be able to. That is the really crazy thing, (because this has been so normal so far)! When I reach this point and take a look at what I expect will be horrifying, the drums stop and there is no one in the place that should have had someTHING there to horrify me. Nothing!?!
I stand, barefoot and cold, staring at an empty space. A giant cave, lit by torches. A large stone pedestal sits in the torchlit cavern. Should I go and examine this strange place? I feel like I am in so many movies I would see later. If I could see myself from the other side I would be in an Indiana Jones movie, or the Goonies. I am a little kid hiding behind rocks. Inappropriately dressed for where I am, and scared.
Just as I am ready to move forward, just as I think I should go and check things out, the loud drums start again. My eyes are awash with color and there is a metal taste in my mouth. I am swept up in total sensory overload and I feel myself floating at high speed back up the stairs, squishing painfully through the small door.
And as though I had never left, I am sitting up, gasping for breath in my bed. The drums still beating in my head, the taste of blood in my mouth from my bit lip.
38 years later, maybe not last night but certainly the night before. The dream keeps happening. Just now as I type this, maybe I know. I am not sure. I really can't think about it. I just can't. The drums, they really do hurt me, they hurt everywhere.