Aftermath of Dreaming(123)

But tonight, before I leave for the retreat tomorrow, our conversation got…sexual. Which is hard. For it to and for it not to. Hard and easy and soft and dreamy and like we were made for it to. And I didn’t resist even though I should have, but it was like easing into a pool where the current is rushing all over me in different ways all at once, and it was so easy to say yes to seeing him when I get back from the retreat, as easy as taking a breath before going under water.



The scream is coming out of me as if the image I am seeing is connected to it. The man is in front of me, black clothes, large body, hands reaching for me, coming closer to the couch, bigger and nearer, I can smell his breath, and no one is coming to save me and he is about to grab, and I look at his face and see it finally. And the scream lets out one last burst, like a death rattle, and he disappears into the night, and I sit here holding myself, shaking quietly.

I can’t believe what I saw. Then I wonder why I didn’t remember it all this time. I feel pinned to the couch by the memory of the dream that has begun playing in my head. The dream that I had three years in a row when I was a child, always a spring night, and I knew each time that I was going to have it before I went to bed.

The first time, I wanted to leave the hall light on outside my bedroom, which annoyed Suzanne because it shone into her room, too, so she tried to convince my five-year-old self that I wasn’t going to have a nightmare that night, it didn’t work like that, as if she were so wise at nine that she could explain the mysteries of the dream realm to me, but I knew she was wrong, and once she was asleep, I slid out of bed and turned the light on.

And the nightmare did come, as I had known it would—I just didn’t know what it would be about until I had it. I was in the house with Momma, Daddy, and Suzanne. It was a regular spring night, like the real one, and the Wolfman was going to come. He lived in the neighborhood a few blocks away, had a wife and kids, and his job—like my daddy had a job that I also never understood—was to scare the people in Pass Christian. One family one night per year. And it was our turn. It wasn’t clear why the Wolfman was only starting to scare us now, but he was coming and no one seemed to care. Momma and Daddy weren’t around and Suzanne wasn’t fazed by it—the Wolfman, big deal. I was the only one who was scared, waiting for what would happen.

Finally he came. Up our front steps, across the porch and to our front door. His large dark form, black hairy hands and arms, cold mean eyes, all of him scratching at the front door, tearing at it, breaking the wood. I screamed and screamed as he tried to get inside.

I woke myself up screaming, then listened in the semidarkness. He wasn’t in my room, and Suzanne seemed to be sleeping peacefully across the hall; at least, I didn’t hear any screams from there. My parents were in their room with their door shut at the end of a really dark hall. I was too afraid to go there, so I lay back down and had my first night of insomnia. Held on to Teddy, his small body wedged into my side, and prayed Hail Marys as I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t trust that if I went back to sleep the Wolfman wouldn’t return, so I waited until sunup before I dozed off.

The next day I told Suzanne, but she brushed it off—a Wolfman, please. I never even thought to tell Momma and Daddy.

The next spring, on the night that I knew the Wolfman was going to come, I again waited until Suzanne was asleep, then turned the hall light on. I got into bed with dread. I didn’t know which was worse: the previous year when I knew a nightmare was coming but didn’t know what it was about, or knowing the Wolfman would visit again. I considered trying to stay awake, maybe that would keep him away, but I knew it was inevitable—we had to have our turn like every other family in town. Trying to prevent it would only make it worse. I held on tight to Teddy. I said Hail Marys over and over. With her around, I was supposed to have nothing to fear, but it wasn’t working. Maybe her power didn’t extend to Wolfmen. Then sleep came.

I was in Daddy’s work shed looking at a violin and Suzanne was on the swings where I was supposed to be playing when suddenly I heard her yell my name. I ran out and found her outside the shed’s door. The Wolfman was walking with determination into our yard. He had a sick grin on his face, like he knew he could get us easily and wasn’t going to waste his strength, but Suzanne and I broke into a run and he came after us. We ran around the house, him close on our heels, past the kitchen porch steps, past the den’s back door, past the dining room’s French doors, past the front porch, and round and round and round again, his breath on our backs, us barely ahead and only because we were familiar with the path, screaming for our parents, hoping they’d appear, until suddenly I woke up and I was in my bed, the sheets turned this way and that, and the house quiet and dark. I stayed up for the rest of the night, holding Teddy in my arms, knowing it was a dream, but also knowing it was somehow real.

The last time the Wolfman came, I asked Suzanne if I could sleep with her that night. I knew she’d say no, but it was a worth a shot. After she refused, I dragged myself into bed. The waiting was excruciating. I held on to Teddy and said lots of prayers, then next thing I knew, I was in the den and Daddy was in his big leather chair, the one from his study, which for some reason was downstairs, and he was listening to his jazz records, his eyes closed and head resting back. I was in my nightgown, the pale pink one with the short sleeves that had its own matching robe that made me feel so grown-up, but I had gotten too tall for it in the past year and Momma had thrown it away. I was at the back door, which was open, and the Wolfman had grabbed hold of my robe and was pulling with all his might, making the fabric taut against the back of my legs, pulling me harder and harder toward him. I screamed for Daddy’s help as I pressed my body back so I wouldn’t go tumbling out. My screams were louder than the jazz, so I knew he could hear me, but his eyes stayed closed, his head so relaxed, while I screamed and screamed and screamed, then suddenly Daddy disappeared as if he had never been there. The chair was empty, and my father was completely absent. The Wolfman let out a large howling laugh, and with one great tug, started to pull me out, but in a moment of inspiration I took off my robe, and with a startled look on his face, the Wolfman fell back, and I slammed the door shut, locked it tight, then woke up.