mélange
copyright 2013 - 2017 TGG
…”doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before, but the silence was unbroken and the stillness gave no token” - Edgar Allan Poe The Raven t’s 11:47 p.m., and it was the same every night. The nightmares were relentless vivid and deeply disturbing. She forced herself to take deep breaths to try and stop her racing heart. Covered in sweat she crawled out of bed, knowing there would be no more sleep tonight. The room was suffused with a soft glowing light from the street lamps revealing how sparsely she had decorated it. She walked over towards the window and sat down on the floor, the cool wood felt good on her drenched skin. Allison Creed disliked clutter of any kind and she was growing impatient with the on-going clutter in her head. The recurring nightmares had been going on for nearly three years, a continual loop as if someone kept hitting replay. Were they blocked memories, was she in denial about something or was someone trying to tell her something?      The house in the nightmares was so familiar, she knew every detail about it yet could never recall being in it. Only a portion of the Tudor style house had shown through the thick cluster of trees, much like the moon, parts of it were always hidden. Only slivers of the brick walkway were visible because of the wild roses that meandered aimlessly up the path. The wind blew restively through the roses releasing their intoxicating fragrance, coaxing you further up the path. Just as she started up the path he would say, “Be careful not to slip and fall, errant thorns have a way of hooking you and cutting you, just so they can watch you bleed. But always remember pain is the one thing you can always count on to comfort you.”   It was difficult to discern the voice she was hearing, it seemed to belong to some other life. She drew her knees to her chest and closed her eyes, the room seemed to hold an unfamiliar presence… ...yes, there is more to this story…