That was No Dream!

Nightmare

Image from ‘The Nightmare” http://www.theguardian.com

“Les, that was more than a dream”

Les looked at me quizzically, “what do you mean? You’re in bed and you’re screaming and thrashing like you’re fighting with someone. What else could it be?”

“Something’s wrong, the girl from the barn is calling me.” I told him.

“What girl?

“The dead girl. The girl who had the baby”

“What baby?” I could tell Les was getting annoyed. He wasn’t really interested, just going through the motions and thinking here we go again.

“She had a baby in that old barn up the road. It was a long time ago, she died giving birth. The old guy in the pub on New Years Eve is her dad. When he brushed by me I felt a connection. She needs my help.”

“What old guy? What the hell are you talking about? I’ve had enough of this, I’m getting a shower.”

“Les, you know I see things sometimes, it’s why I write. She’s reaching out to me and I have to find out why.”

“You write because you have an overactive imagination. Stop confusing reality with your imagination. People are going to think you’re crazy.”

“Remember the blood on my face that day, you helped me clean it off?”

Les rolled his eyes, “yes, you said you fell in the snow and scratched yourself on the bushes.”

“I lied, I was in the old barn. I saw a girl and a baby. Something in the barn scratched me. It could have been a stray cat, but I was in the barn that night. I went out walking and I was drawn to the barn. Now I know why, it’s the girl, she’s reaching out to me.”

“How do you know she died, where did you get the rest of the story from? Or did you just make it up?”

“Bonnie in the pub told me the rest.”

“Oh great! Another place we have to avoid now.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her about what I’d seen in the barn”

“There was nothing to see, get it into your head, this is a figment of your imagination, another plot for a book. Write a story and then forget about it for gods sake.” Les wasn’t shouting, but he was using that cruel cold voice that made me want to cry.

“I just asked Bonnie why the old guy was sitting alone drinking heavily. She told me his teenage daughter died giving birth to an illegitimate child in the barn. She’d kept it secret from them. She died. He’s never recovered.”

Les wasn’t listening anymore. He switched the shower on a closed the door.

Thanks a lot!  

I grabbed my robe and went downstairs to make some coffee. I wanted to cry. I felt scared and alone. We’d been married for fifteen years but Les still didn’t accept I was able to talk to the dead. He’d seen it first hand sometimes, but chose to erase it from his memory. Couldn’t he see I needed him? I gazed out of the kitchen window while the coffee machine heated up. A couple of tears trickled down my cheek. Gran I wish you were here. 

Then I remembered her voice, she was here, she’d helped me last night in my dream. 

At least someone was on my side.

 

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