Friday, June 22, 2012

Not Leaving 'Til They Get What They Want

we're at my parents house. there's a knock at the door. my aunt goes to answer it but i don't want her to. she just opens it without asking who it is and that makes me angry. she lets the people in. its EFIL and L. i am more than angry now, i don't want them here. they don't belong here. what are they doing here? i look at my aunt and show her my anger but she doesnt seem to understand and she just shrugs. i turn to EFIL and L and say get the fuck out of my house. EFIL says it's not your house, and walks right past me. i know now that they are not leaving 'til they get what they want. now they're walking down the stairs down into my mom's sewing room. there is a basket of colorful yoyos she's been working on for a yoyo quilt she's making for the baby. L plunges her hands into the basket and pulls a couple of them out. some spill onto the floor and that bothers me. what's this, she asks. now we're going back upstairs, back to the living room. they sit on the sofa. they won't leave. they're not leaving 'til they get what they want. i keep mentally counting everyone that i love, to make sure that no one is missing when i turn around: my babies, DH, my parents, my brothers. no one is missing. i don't know why EFIL and L are here but i know they are after something. i walk outside, pacing on the sidewalk. call the police. the dispatcher seems to take forever in asking me what my emergency is. i explain to her, anxiety growing in the pit of my stomach, knowing that my mother is inside and she will keep everyone safe, but wanting to go back inside anyway. there is too much for me to protect inside for me to be out here. i have a moment of worry, thinking that EFIL and L are going to lock me out. lock me out of my own house. i tell the dispatcher to send someone, hurry, there are people here and they need to leave. my husbands father is here and he is dangerous, he must be sent away. he won't leave until he get's what he wants. she says okay, we'll send someone. a mental image in my mind: a dream within a dream of a post-apocalyptic world. the image fades and i'm back inside my parents house again. DH's father is still there, though L has faded somewhere into the fabric of the dream. some time passes. EFIL tries to talk to DH, who won't oblige. i go back outside, frantic now, and call the police again. i get the same dispatcher and she gives me an attitude for calling again so soon. i think you're not supposed to be giving me attitude, there's a problem here and you're supposed to be sending someone, you said you would send someone. she says they got tied up somewhere. chill out they're coming. i yell at her, this is your job! my job is to call you and tell you there's a man here. your job is to send someone. send help. i want this man gone. i want him gone! i want him gone! i keep yelling this into the phone, over and over again. i am very, very angry. i go back inside. my mother warns me that EFIL is up to something, he's going to do something bad. i am in the kitchen now, watching him. he's going crazy. he's guzzling wine from a bottle. i say, to no one in particular, he's going to do drugs now. EFIL turns, his back to us, face in the corner and makes a loud snorting sound as he hunches over. when he turns back around, he shoots something white out of his nose and it lands at my feet. his eyes are like those of a madman. things are moving quicker now, somewhere my conscience is telling me to wake up. this is only a dream. we're in the kitchen again. it's my parents old kitchen, EFIL is standing next to the patio door. he's drinking red wine out of a long-stemmed wine glass and it pours out of his mouth onto his chest like blood. i am frightened. i knock the glass out of EFIL's hand and it shatters on the ground. i continue to see glimpses of that post-apocalyptic world now, but it's right outside the window. behind me, DH has brought DD and DS into the room, and they are standing there watching. i don't have much time to think, i scoop them both up and start walking away, back to the living room. i don't want them to get cut on the broken glass.

When we're little, the monsters in our dreams are not based on real people. Not yet. It's when we're adults that we realize who those monsters really are. They can be mom or dad. Our brothers and sisters. Our best friends. Girlfriends, boyfriends, school teachers, neighbors. The monsters are real. They're coming to get us. And they aren't leaving 'til they get what they want.

2 comments:

  1. Disturbing but instructional. Reveals your deepest fears.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Terribly frightening. Read it through a few times. Each time was more unsettling.

    LSV

    ReplyDelete