Work in Progress

Lisette reached across the table and grabbed Claire's hand. "Please don't make me go to this party tonight," she said. "You know how much I hate these gatherings. My soul aches just thinking about it."

Claire laughed as she brushed off the dramatic intonations of her best friend's voice. "You promised to come with me. I really need to show interest in these people. Besides, you know they'll have good wine and you'll look fabulous in your new dress."

Lisette smiled. She was waiting for an occasion to wear her new red dress. "Ok. But if it gets unbearable, I'm leaving with a bottle of wine tucked in my bag." She winked at her friend across the table, knowing that she would do anything to make her happy.

Lisette's smile quickly melted as she watched her friend walk away from her. She could feel the anxiety spread through her body like an insatiable disease, clouding her mind and tightening her heart. The nightmares returned a few nights before and her past was chasing her through the fields of her present. She was overwhelmed and scared that her secrets would soon be revealed.

Lisette could feel his eyes following her from across the room. Every movement noted. Each breath inhaled with an urgency to ingest her spirit. Her heart beat faster, filling her body with an aching desire to escape. Beads of sweat erupted around her hairline and her cheeks reddened with the rising sense of panic emanating from her belly. She scanned the room with trepidation, searching for the eyes that waited patiently to devour her.

In the morning...

I heard the faint sound of the telephone as it interrupted my dream and pulled me back to the awkward embrace of my living room couch. Once again, in my desperate attempt to devour a few hours of precious sleep, I forgot to silence my phone. After a few moments of some melodramatic indie rock song, the phone stopped singing and silence draped itself around my small corner of the room. Well, that's not exactly true, the white noise of the television stilled played its part in the ambient soundtrack. I rolled over, (or more accurately, threw myself over) onto my side and pulled the afghan tighter around my body as I tried desperately to stave off the hunger of the early morning chill. I pulled my knees closer to my chest, took a deep breath, and exhaled. Every muscle in my body seemed to nestle deeper into the lumpy cushions of the worn out couch. It didn't even occur to me to wonder why I was on the couch instead of tucked tightly into the arms of my queen size bed and extremely plush down comforter. Another deep sigh. A little deeper into the cushions. As I teetered on the wall between sleep and wakefulness, I could feel myself being pulled back into the reverie of my previous dream.

That Which Lurks in the Night

She opens her eyes and is startled by the darkness. Even in the middle of the night she can usually still see the faint stream of light seeping in through the cracks in the blinds. Tonight, there is no light. She strains her ears to search for the familiar sounds that remind her of the life force of the busy street outside her apartment. There is no sound. The panic rises from the depths of her belly as she struggles to piece together the necessary muscles to produce a scream. For a brief second, she has hope that her scream will cut through the stillness and jolt her back to reality. She opens her mouth and engages her stomach muscles, pushing with such force that she can feel the veins in her temples begin to pulsate. Heeeeeeeeelllllllllpppppp Meeeeeeeee! Her hands are balled up into fists and the muscles in her neck are stretched to their limits. "Please, someone hear me," she thinks to herself. She waits to be engulfed by the vibrations of her scream. Waiting. Waiting. Nothing. There is only silence...stillness...silence and stillness. "What is happening to me? Where am I?" These words circle through her mind like a film projector stuck on repeat. Around and around they go, with no outlet to the outside world. She tries to flail her arms and kick her feet but all she feels is heaviness...or maybe nothingness? She has become a prisoner in her own body. She is laying there in the pitch black, incapable of movement, in a vacuum of silence, her mind racing. If she could, she would probably laugh, at what she doesn't know. Maybe the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Maybe to acknowledge that this must be some kind of psychosomatic joke played on her by the jesters of dreamland. Whatever the reason, laughter seems to cure many things. Just as she is about to close her eyes and relax into the helplessness, she is blinded by the brightest light she has ever seen. Beyond that, she can see nothing.

Just below the Surface

She stared through the glass into the deep, dark eyes of the sun-colored fish. The fish stared back, watching her with an intensity that penetrated the membrane of her irises and left her feeling naked and vulnerable. A chill rushed through the woman's body as she tried to pry her eyes away from this strange creature. She shifted her gaze slightly and was captivated by the myriad of moving colors circling the tank. They danced around the sun-colored fish with a grace and humility worthy of a queen. The woman stood motionless, mesmerized by the fluidity of movement before her eyes. She knew that not many other people in the room were paying attention to the antics of the aquatic life. Their attention was focused on the bustling activity in the crowded lobby. The food. The wine. The static. There was a time when she reveled in this kind of activity. A time when the noise and fake smiles fueled her with excitement and energy. A time when she would have been too busy to notice anything outside of herself. But that was before she almost lost everything that mattered to her. Now, as she stood in the middle of chaos, all she knew was that she longed for the promise of freedom and serenity offered to her by the hypnotic eyes of the creature behind the glass.

Just dance

"C'mon. Dance with me. I love this song." [She bites her lower lip and her hips begin to move with the music.]

"You know I can't dance and even when I try I end up looking like a complete fool." [He moves closer to the wall, hoping that a secret door will magically appear and save him from his fear.]

[She giggles. They have been through this so many times before and he always ends up with the same horrified look on his face.]

"You think too much. You're the only one who really cares about what you look like when you dance. Just trust me. Take my hand, close your eyes, and let the bass fill your body. Nobody in here is watching you. They're entranced in their own experience."

[With an exaggerated exhale, he reluctantly gives in and allows her to lead him into the crowd of people. Instantly, he feels entwined within the labyrinth of the swaying and pulsating bodies. He gasps for breath and tries to retrace his steps back to safety but to his dismay, the path is over-grown with ecstatic dancers. Besides, as he pulls away, she pulls him back with a strength that reminds him that he is going nowhere. He knows that the only way out of this situation is to resign himself to the music and show at least a feeble attempt at having fun. If only his legs didn't feel like two lead poles attached to the floor. Slowly, he lifts his right foot from ground, then his left. His hips begin to move a little from side to side. To his amazement, he feels his parted lips and notices a hint of a smile forming on his face. Then, he opens his eyes and sees her. She is so beautiful, so goddess-like, in the ocean of lights and sensual rhythm of the music. Her body flows so freely and her face exudes ecstasy. She has found her happy place. This moment makes it all worth it...well, that, and her promise to watch the football game tomorrow.]

All In A Dream

Sometimes the darkness finds its way into her deepest consciousness, seeping through the cracks of her well constructed psyche and leaving her defenseless in the strangle-hold of her past. She chokes as she reaches to lessen the grip of her paralyzing memories, mentally digging her fingers into the big, fleshy hands encircling her present thoughts. But as with most altercations, the more she struggles, the more she loses control and the vice grows tighter, leaving her breathless and weak. She utters the words, "You can't have me without a fight," and violently begins flailing her arms and kicking her legs, attacking the darkness with as much vigor and strength as she can muster in her current condition. She wonders what she must look like to the outside observer. Is she merely a doll, being held by the neck by a 12-foot monster who looks at her with amusement (and possibly a little bit of sadness) because he knows that the more she struggles the more difficult it will be to be free? Or, does she look like a sleek super-hero who will pull out her ninja moves at just the right moment, using strategy to weaken the enemy. She ponders these two situations as the darkness continues to creep closer, swirling around her in its sultry dance. Suddenly, her body stiffens and she is jerked out of her reverie by the sounds of Portishead playing on the radio. It takes a moment for her to realize that her alarm clock is to blame for the disruption. Annoyed and a little bit shaken, she rolls over to hit the snooze button. This time she chooses "super-hero."

Clipped Wings

In the distance, she hears his voice as it bounces off the tree trunks and faintly finds its way to her ears. He is frantically calling her name. His voice dripping with urgency and desperation. It takes all of her strength to keep moving forward, away from the familiar and into the unknown. She knows that after tonight there is no turning back. A chapter in her life will end and she will have to swim in the currents of discomfort until the next chapter is written. He continues to call her name, hoping that persistence will be his savior and she will come back to him like she has so many times before. In his heart, he knows the truth. This time is different. He has painfully watched her shrinking before his eyes, often cowering in the shadows nursing the wounds of her clipped wings. It was never his intention to make her a prisoner but his love was smothering and eventually she was his obsession instead of his partner. He wanted her all to himself. He believed that their self-contained life was enough for both of them. He suddenly stops in his tracks. For the first time he realizes that in order to save her, he has to let her go. He calls for her one last time, finally extinguishing the last flame of hope that she will return. At that moment, she can sense his defeat. She slows her pace and glances briefly over her shoulder. In the final moments of daylight, she sees his silhouette. He is stoic, his head tilted downward and his eyes resting on the ground. She releases a sigh of silent appreciation. Without realizing it, he has given her his greatest gift. Her freedom.