The Protector Owl

Sleeping is not my strong suit–never has been. It always seems that when the day goes to rest, my thoughts are just waking up. They slither from their resting place–wherever that might be–and they begin to gnaw at me. They are relentless, making for ever-restless nights. What’s more, is that when I finally do fall into a deep enough slumber, I dream. And I dream hard. My dreams are often so vivid and visceral that they bleed into reality. More often than not, when I wake, my first order of business is to spend the first several moments of the day sorting between what is real, and what may have been a dream.

Not after this night, though. There was no mistaking this… nightmare… for reality. At least, I hope it was a dream.

• • •

After what seemed like ages of tossing and turning, I felt my eyelids fall together and finally, I slept.

The next time I found myself aware of my surroundings, I was on my favorite walking path. It was brisk, but not unbearable. Whatever I was wearing was moderately appropriate for the temperature. While I couldn’t quite discern what my attire was, I only felt a mild chill as the breeze licked my face and jostled the tendrils of hair that were loose from my ponytail. I was walking on the snaking, paved path that laced alongside the river. The water was flowing at such a steady pace. Normally, this pace of the water would not allow for me to hear it. But today I could. Although I could hear it quite plainly, it blurred into the background as white noise. I could see the ripples frolicing in the current. This was confusing to me because it wasn’t particularly light outside; in fact, it was nearly dark, and not due to clouds. Instead, the air held the heavy feel of night. And I could see in the dark. Somehow, I could make out light that was flirting with the wavelets, illuminating the wrinkles in the water.

I would never go on a walk in the dark. I know better than that.

I was trying to tune into my senses to get a better grip on where I was and what I was doing there. As I paid more attention to my ears, I could also easily make out the faint rustling of the dead leaves as they clung for dear life to their dry, brittle branches. I continued to listen as one foot fell in front of the other while I strode mindlessly. The silence was odd… eerie. My footsteps echoed so loudly in my ears. They almost sounded like my heartbeat. Maybe it was my heartbeat. I forced my feet to come to a stop so I could listen to the thumping in my chest.

Suddenly, a scream rang out… no, not a scream, a screech. It was deafening. Petrifying. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before and I was terrified. The world stood still and I could not unglue my feet from the ground below me to save my life. As soon as the echo of the screech subsided, I was left with the ringing in my ears. Instinctively, my eyes were drawn to the treetops–searching for answers. I scanned frantically until my eyes became fixed on a ghostly figure. I might otherwise have thought it was floating directly above me, but my sharpened sense of sight allowed me to make out the branch it was perched upon. Its talons intimidatingly pierced the bark of the tree within their grip.

Our eyes met. My adrenaline was telling my body that we should be very, very scared and that we needed to flee. However, even stronger feelings prevailed. I felt protected, and empowered, as if I was being watched over. It’s eyes were intent.

Thin, glowing, golden rings encompassed deep pools of blackness. These striking eyes were enshrouded by a mask of white outlined by a thin tan heart shape. It was unmistakably a barn owl.

I was lost in the gaze, something about it felt communicative, but more so, familiar. It was somehow like I was looking into my own soul. I just knew I could trust this feeling and I was safe. It was comforting. Until… the owl’s pupils shifted into a look of desperation. The intense moment was broken as the owl's neck snapped towards the direction behind me.

Then, coming on as quick as the screech was something entirely more concerning. Footsteps. I had to look down at my feet to be sure the steps were not my own, but I quickly eliminated that notion altogether when I saw my feet, still cemented to the glistening pavement. It was clear to me now that the owl’s cry was merely a warning to something much more sinister that was about to take place. The owl was trying to apprise me.

My already elevated heart rate continued to thump faster and harder. Now, I knew it was my own heart that I was hearing before because it was practically all I could hear now. Then, in an alternating rhythm, I could hear pounding in double time. My heart beat rang in my ears and the footsteps grew closer, and they were approaching alarmingly fast.

Everything was happening so quickly that I didn’t have time to look to see what was coming my way, or perhaps, I just didn’t want to. I knew whatever it was, it was my worst nightmare.

Arms reached around from behind me and swallowed me whole. One second I was a person standing alone in the dark, and the next I felt like a meek small creature that was lost in a shuffle much larger than me.

I tried to fight back but I quickly became weak. I was completely defenseless. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as my face would allow. I tried to block it out. I tried to transport my mind elsewhere.

Cold, clammy hands could be felt all over my body in the least desirable of ways.

But, as soon as it began, it was over. It wasn’t even minutes later when my attacker stopped–running away. It was all such a blur, I wasn’t sure how long I was lost in the encounter, but I felt like I was okay. It was clear that the intentions were unimaginable, however, they were interrupted. I layed in the soggy moss and thick mud, cold and confused.

My ears were ringing, but when I brought my attention to the present moment, I could only make out the flowing river and the faintest sound of the leaves aside from the sounds still reverberating in my head. My mind slowly became less clouded. My ears were ringing because there had been screaming. Presumably me, but I could almost recall a sound that wasn’t my own amidst all of the commotion. A sound that was now much more identifiable to me. The owl’s screech.

I had been squeezing my eyes together so tight that my face muscles ached. I was hopeful that the lack of noise was an indication that I was completely alone again, and the threat was gone. I slowly softened my face and peeled my eyes open.

I assumed I would open my eyes to see the oddly illuminated darkness as I had before. Instead my gaze was met with a strikingly stark-white glow pointed in my direction. It was the owl. This was the first time I was able to look at it in its entirety. Its body was splayed out against the ground. I was finally able to appreciate the full beauty of this creature. The browns and tans that existed beyond the tan ring that surrounded its face blended together like sodden watercolors. It was one of the most exquisite sights I had ever seen. Well, it would have been. It didn’t take long for me to realize it was there on the wooded floor, unmoving. Lifeless.

What I couldn’t wrap my head around is why or how this owl felt so familiar to me. It felt like I was looking at myself lying there on the ground. It was as if I was my own protector. The gears started turning in my head and it was starting to make sense. I was my own protector. I forewarned myself about the impending situation, and I had combated my assailant. I saved myself from a much more menacing fate that what I had encountered. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that the owl was my protector, my savior. And I was the owl. But, in exchange, it gave its life...

Still, I am laying on the cold, stiff earth, staring at what is now just a carcass of an owl. The shell of what once contained my soul. But how? How could this be? That can’t be right… because, I remember hearing once, the only way to die in a dream is to die in real life.