Last night I had a nightmare. I woke up, frozen. In fear. I was afraid. And I couldn’t move. I stretched my arm to reach for my phone. But curled up and couldn’t shake the feeling. An hour passes. I know I have to get up eventually. But I still can’t move. What was that dream? What bits of it stayed with me this long? Did I dream of ghosts? Monsters? Still, it is a day later and I’m still wearing the feeling. Is it dread I feel? Or premonition?
My sister is not here with me this week. I am sleeping alone in my house. Though we rarely even spoke, I never noticed how often I look in her direction while wasting time on the internet. I feel as though she is there. But I know she is not.
Small noises make my heart jump.
Thoughts of worst case scenarios are a jumble in my mind. What will I do if someone broke into my house? I don’t even have a weapon.
I don’t believe in ghosts, 99.9% of the time, but I am afraid that they are real.
Maybe it’s instinct. My body knows I’m in transition and is steeling itself in defense for the unstable environment. Maybe I’m too stressed out. With too much responsibility that no-one has asked me to do. Maybe my passive self-hate is finally manifesting.
I don’t know.
I only know, when I can’t move.