What I have is yours
CW: Domestic abuse
April 2, 2020 | California | 50-59 years
My whole life I've had frightening dreams about home invaders. Every dream begins the same—the intruder (always male) is forcing his way through a door and I'm on the other side desperately trying to keep him out. The lock on the door never works and the intruder always makes it through and wants to do me harm. I do not take flight. I fight. Usually, it never ends well for my intruder. My poor husband has been awakened many times by the resulting screams, bubbling to the surface from my subconscious. This latest dream began the same way, but the intruder morphed into a young woman who was desperate and fleeing an abusive relationship. Because of COVID-19, she had nowhere to go and it was cold and raining outside. So I opened the door and let her in. She carried a duffel bag that held all her belongings. I helped her settle into her new bedroom where my sons' old bunk-beds loomed, remnants from a bygone era. I assured her that she would be safe. She didn't like the bunk-beds, because they reminded her of the ones she slept on in prison. So I took the top bed off (it's a dream I can do these things) and made up her now single bed with fresh sheets. Then I heard the whimpering—coming from her bag. Inside, I found a small wiggling bundle wrapped in a baby's blanket. Grunting and snorting, a chubby wiggly pug emerged. My landlord didn't allow dogs so I began to worry and she cried and said that this was her baby and she couldn't leave him behind. And I realized in that moment that I didn't care about the landlord and their rules about not having another tenant or a dog or whatever, because there was a fucking world-wide pandemic going down. So I said that's okay, he can stay too—what I have is yours. And then the dream cut to another tableau—where my new housemate and I were looking down upon our little cottage by the sea (this was not my real home but something my subconscious conjured). The sea was very angry—massive rogue waves were crashing on to our small exposed structure and demolishing it. I was grateful that we were safe, on higher ground. But then I heard my new housemate screaming and when I looked down, I saw him. We had left the little pug behind. Now the waves were throwing him around like a rag doll, smashing his little body onto the sharp rocks jutting out of the sand. Without hesitation, I ran down and dove into the foamy torrent. I groped around in the dark and found him, holding him tightly in my arms as we tumbled like a piece of sea glass, end to end, falling deeper into the abyss. Then I woke up.
