Dream Sequence

The house is still, bathing in wilted sunshine that's filtering though the gauzy windows.  We stand together.  Fingers intertwined.

I know what is coming and I wait.  I've felt it before.  Seen it snake through the floorboards and infect the cracks in the walls.

I know it is coming and I wait.

Branches scratch the windows as the perfume breeze begins to blow.  The sickly sweet scent picks up the leaves outside and I see them swirling outside the panes. 

The door creaks with the dragon wind pushing through it.  I hold tight to the hand in mine.  It won't get me this time.

But I know it will.

The flurry outside begins to howl.  It breaches the unguarded doorway with force and begins its familiar dance through our house.  I watch as the outside comes twirling in across the floor, encircling our feet.  My hair coils around my face and my eyes stay close on the path this vile wind is taking, once again trying to upend what's mine.

It picks up strength and speed.  I stand strong, but I can't hold on without his help.  He's not letting go, yet I am slipping farther and farther away until I am swept across the room, crashing into a lamp, then a table, then the floor.  I see him still standing there, quietly, the dark gusts engulfing him from around the corner far away.  I need to get back to him.  I need to feel his hand in mine again.  I won't let him go.

I stand, feeling shards of broken glass and wood pierce my hands as I balance myself up from the floor.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks me.

I try to answer.  I'm not! I'm not!, but my exclamation is a mere whisper against the noise I've created in my mind.

"It doesn't need to be here.   Why are you bringing this in?"

I don't know. 

"Have I broken it?" I ask.

"No," he says.  "Just get rid of it."

I know what to do.  My steps are sure against the whirlpool of ill temper being waged in our home.

He holds his hand to me and I feel it once again in mine.  I reach out and slam the door.  It pushes quickly from my hand, crashing against the jam.  I bolt it shut.

The wind is quiet.  I hear it slowing down and moving away, back from where it came.

It will return again.  That is certain.

Next time will be different.  Next time I will have power.  I will resist the demons in my mind and we will not break.

When the sun drips through the windows, our fingers are once again intertwined and we are, as we should be, at peace.