The Long Night

I’m running down a dark hall. It’s so hard to breathe. I’m suffocating on air that reeks of death and decay. My lungs fill with the stench, and I collapse to the ground. I extend my hands out reaching for something, anything. What is that that I feel? A corpse! No, Corpses, a mountain of them! I beg for God to save me, but there is no answer. Just a light in the distance that I will never reach…

The alarm buzzes, jolting me awake in the darkness. I’m drenched in a summer’s evening sweat, barely able to catch my breath. I scramble out of bed in a rushed daze to the bathroom. I hurl myself over the toilet and vomit the last three night’s dinner…Tequila.

Once the unwanted detox was finished, strength left my body leaving me trembling. I resorted to lying my head against the porcelain bowl, peering into the dark of night. A familiar chill courses through and shame takes over. Emotion streams down my face as convulsions take hold. Battling a depressive realm, I refuse to sink further and further. Assaulting my face with my hands, I begin to snap back to reality. After much effort, I gather the willpower to ready myself for my session.

Throwing on the cleanest t-shirt and jeans I could find, I called myself ready. I embarked on my usual walk to the office. Lucky me, I was able to find a therapist about half a mile from my home. Within twenty minutes, I was bursting through the doors, anxiously, starting my session.

“Again and again. The same dream. I just don’t get it!”

“Hold on,” stammering over her words in confusion, Dr. Ehllis asks, “You know you’re oozing liquor, and what dream?”

“I’ve been having this dream. I don’t know when it started. Maybe a year or so ago, but, now that I think about it, it’s the only dream I’ve had….”

In her usual tone, Dr. Ehllis responds. “What can you tell me about this dream?”

Tears pool in my eyes as I recall this horror. “I’m stuck in this mountain of corpses, and I’m just calling. I’m calling out for…I don’t know. Maybe God. Maybe something that’s just not that or there...”

My words drift off as I curl up on the suede chaise lounge. I cradle my knees to my chin, trying not to become hollow as I bare through.

“…Because if I’m honest with myself, it’s really a nightmare. In fact, it’s the worst kind of one you can have. The kind that you can feel every bit of it. You can feel the suffocation, but there’s nothing to do but accept it.”

Dr. Ehllis abruptly stops me. Dissolving the memory of the dream.

“Ok, ok! Do you want the truth as your friend or therapist? Cuz’ honestly, I’m pissed as both that you’re just telling me this!” Dr. Ehllis takes a deep breath in as an attempt at composure. “After all these years of you coming to me, I thought we were past this. I bet you don’t even realize what today is.”

“Today” echoes in my ears and seeps deep in my brain. How could I forget today. It’s been eight years since my car accident. Typical tale of a drunken night and bad decision making. By the time I came to, I was in the hospital post-op, and my husband was six feet under. No goodbye. Just bye….His life Insurance paid out $20,000, but I was drowning still. This was the first year I didn’t remember the anniversary. Maybe the night terrors replaced that terrible memory.

I hear Dr. Ehllis in the distance saying “Unfortunately that’s our time, but, whenever you’re ready to talk, you know I’m here.”

I leave in a haze. Wondering to myself “Where did the time go,” I walk home. With every step, time passes away, and these familiar steps feel unknown to me. By the time I reach my front door, I don’t know how long it’s been. Twenty minutes or maybe hours. Something is off, but I can’t quite place it. Maybe it was the bottle on the walk back. That just might have done the trick.

I walk inside and close the door behind me. The “click” sound it makes is finally something familiar, but the voice extending from the dark is not.

“The time has come.”

My body freezes in fear. I see nothing but darkness all around me. I can’t make out anything, but this is supposed to be my home. The voice continues, and with every word, It grows colder….Closer

“You were made aware, the time near, with the sign promised of the night’s approach.”

A managed a very airy “What?”

“A sign promised. Now it’s time to serve.”

“No!” I whimper. “What did I do?”

“Your wish came true.” The voice responds. It sounds as if it’s only a hair away, but I wouldn’t know; All my senses, except hearing, has been reduced to nonexistent.

My brain races trying to figure out “my wish.” Finally, my mind explores a thought that was ever so neatly tucked away. The night of the accident; My husband told me about another affair, and I yelled in his face, with everything I had, “I Wish You Were Dead!”

“And so it was,” the voice cuts into my thought.

I plea, “But those were just words.”

“Words that sentenced you. Written in The Little Black Notebook…”