"Black and White" by S.E. Cason

Black and White

By S.E. Cason

I used to dream in black and white. I read that this is normal.

All of my dreams, at least the one’s I recall, are all dark and frightening. I have been woken up from bad dreams my entire life. I rarely dream about my children, and when I do they are lost, and I am desperate to find them. I never dream of my husband, not in person. I know he exists, but I never see him.

My son was recently sick so after getting him to bed I retired on the couch exhausted. Also, I wanted to hear if there was any distress in the night. After the long day of chicken soup and temperature taking I still couldn’t sleep. Pain from my injured leg had me flipping channels. Car accident left me a bit lame a few years back. There are good days, there are bad days. There are good dreams there are bad dreams.

by ~jrgee

CC License

At some point I succumbed and fell asleep on the couch. I woke and looked to my left to see a woman on the end of my couch with her head in her hands. All I could see was her shocking red hair, and that she was curled up in a ball. She was rocking ever so slightly back and forth.

Scared, I jerked my head away. Immediately I felt the air change. It was similar to being close to a lightning bolt, where you can smell the ozone, and the air feels thick maybe even heavy. I turned to her again possibly for explanation of what was to come.

She whimpered, “My head, it hurts so badly.” And she made fists in her hair. Rocking at the same slow pace, never missing a beat.

I wasn’t afraid of her. I told her, “Oh God, I can feel it in the air.”

As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I felt it coming. It was coming fast. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but I knew this wasn’t the first time this had happened. My immediate response wasn’t fear but anger. This was a second, third, or eighth visit. I had just forgotten the other one’s until that moment.

When the thick air surrounded me, I grabbed my head and put it in my hands, began to rock slowly.

I slowly mumbled, “No no no no please no.” I was praying it would pass, to spare me. The mumble became a scream, and the fear was debilitating. But the anger was right at the very end of the fear. Then I woke up in the exact same spot I had fallen asleep, head in hands. Woke where just moments ago in my dream I was being accosted by something or someone.

This dream was in color.

The next morning my son woke up and I took his temperature. He stared up at me, took out the thermometer and said, “I had the weirdest dream.”

I couldn’t speak. I didn’t want to know. He held out his hand and there was a gathering of red hair.

“She told me to tell you, ‘It still hurts.’



Previously posted on http://womanonpause.com/2013/08/17/black-and-white/