Dude, the Nightmares
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Join Date: Jun 2016
Location: Boston, MA
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Dude, the Nightmares
I'm on day three of sobriety, and I sat down today to write start-to-finish what I dreamed about last night.
I didn't realize how transparent the metaphor was until I put it on paper. Here it is:
The second night after quitting I did not sleep until the sun had risen, when I finally couldn’t stave it off anymore. While I dreamed, I was aware of being in my room. I was aware, too, that my heart was beating deadly fast again.
In my dream I had fallen into a sea of broken glass. I kept trying to get up and I kept falling and the glass kept slashing me. Sometimes it only cut; other times it cut and stayed inside. One of the times I'd made it to my hands and knees, I saw that I was bleeding from my face in a way that would not stop or slow down, and I remembered that a shard had lodged itself into my nose and severed a nostril. I cupped my hands to catch the blood, and as I watched them fill up and overflow I realized, ****, it’s bad. It’s really bad.
It was twilight before I was able to get to my feet. I stayed there for a moment, swaying. I had never realized before how hard standing is. When I began to wade out, the glass tinkled stealthily around my ankles, and I knew that if I fell it would cut me again.
I only made it a few steps out of the sea before I had to lean my shoulder against a wall. My arms were heavy. I could not lift my arms. Then the wall was not a wall, it had become the plate-glass window of [Former Workplace]. While I leaned against it I tried to look inside.
[Ex-lover/Boss] came up behind me while I was trying to look inside the restaurant. He didn’t make any noise, but I knew he was there and I turned around. He stood ten feet away. He didn’t come any closer. At ten paces he stared at me, frowning and squinting, his chin tilted up. It was the first time we’d seen each other since I left. He hadn’t barbered his hair in a while, and it had the shape of hair that has been slept on. It stuck up in all directions. I wanted to say something and I wanted him to say something to me and I was ashamed that he could see me like this, with the severed nostril beginning to scab up and bruise and the right half of my face a swollen white dough. I was desperate for him to speak. He could tell from the look on my face I was begging. He did not speak.
The others from [Former Workplace] came outside then and helped me into a farmhouse and sat me in a chair they had taken from the kitchen table and placed in the center of the room. The chair had a blue cushion in traditional country pattern. The floors were genuine wood, glazed, with dark resin between each board. People came to visit me in the chair. I thought at first that [Best Friend] was one of them, because I could feel him the same way I'd felt [Ex-lover] only this time warm. But [Best Friend] was not there. His warmth was simply the part of the sky that stays light after sunset.
Days passed in time-lapse. The window went from dark to light to dark and people changed places around the room like hummingbirds and their clothes changed also, and the whole time I did not move and I did not change. At one point everything slowed to real -time and I realized that not one of the people in this room liked me. Watching them them socialize, I knew they even disliked me.
I woke up panicking that the alarm clock had not gone off and that I would be late for work. When I turned on my phone to call [New Boss], I saw that I had slept only forty-two minutes.
I could have gone back to bed. I thought about it. Then I immediately rose and made a pot of coffee and drank it all, cup by cup, while I read the paper
I didn't realize how transparent the metaphor was until I put it on paper. Here it is:
The second night after quitting I did not sleep until the sun had risen, when I finally couldn’t stave it off anymore. While I dreamed, I was aware of being in my room. I was aware, too, that my heart was beating deadly fast again.
In my dream I had fallen into a sea of broken glass. I kept trying to get up and I kept falling and the glass kept slashing me. Sometimes it only cut; other times it cut and stayed inside. One of the times I'd made it to my hands and knees, I saw that I was bleeding from my face in a way that would not stop or slow down, and I remembered that a shard had lodged itself into my nose and severed a nostril. I cupped my hands to catch the blood, and as I watched them fill up and overflow I realized, ****, it’s bad. It’s really bad.
It was twilight before I was able to get to my feet. I stayed there for a moment, swaying. I had never realized before how hard standing is. When I began to wade out, the glass tinkled stealthily around my ankles, and I knew that if I fell it would cut me again.
I only made it a few steps out of the sea before I had to lean my shoulder against a wall. My arms were heavy. I could not lift my arms. Then the wall was not a wall, it had become the plate-glass window of [Former Workplace]. While I leaned against it I tried to look inside.
[Ex-lover/Boss] came up behind me while I was trying to look inside the restaurant. He didn’t make any noise, but I knew he was there and I turned around. He stood ten feet away. He didn’t come any closer. At ten paces he stared at me, frowning and squinting, his chin tilted up. It was the first time we’d seen each other since I left. He hadn’t barbered his hair in a while, and it had the shape of hair that has been slept on. It stuck up in all directions. I wanted to say something and I wanted him to say something to me and I was ashamed that he could see me like this, with the severed nostril beginning to scab up and bruise and the right half of my face a swollen white dough. I was desperate for him to speak. He could tell from the look on my face I was begging. He did not speak.
The others from [Former Workplace] came outside then and helped me into a farmhouse and sat me in a chair they had taken from the kitchen table and placed in the center of the room. The chair had a blue cushion in traditional country pattern. The floors were genuine wood, glazed, with dark resin between each board. People came to visit me in the chair. I thought at first that [Best Friend] was one of them, because I could feel him the same way I'd felt [Ex-lover] only this time warm. But [Best Friend] was not there. His warmth was simply the part of the sky that stays light after sunset.
Days passed in time-lapse. The window went from dark to light to dark and people changed places around the room like hummingbirds and their clothes changed also, and the whole time I did not move and I did not change. At one point everything slowed to real -time and I realized that not one of the people in this room liked me. Watching them them socialize, I knew they even disliked me.
I woke up panicking that the alarm clock had not gone off and that I would be late for work. When I turned on my phone to call [New Boss], I saw that I had slept only forty-two minutes.
I could have gone back to bed. I thought about it. Then I immediately rose and made a pot of coffee and drank it all, cup by cup, while I read the paper
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