Nightmare

I didn't realize when I changed the title of my blog from I am Jack's Mannequin to The Sky is Full of Dreams...that it would be extremely ironic. Ever since I changed it, I've written at least three blogs dealing with my dreams. I guess I should have suspected one of these nights I would have a nightmare, and put that here also. When I was younger, I had one recurring nightmare, but it wasn't that terrifying. Not the kind of nightmare where you jolt awake in a cold sweat and can't remember where you are.
Not the kind of nightmare I had last night.
As usual, there were a few different segments, almost two different dreams, but the last one stuck out to me. All I remember about the first one was that my family was swimming together in a large pool, and my mother started sobbing in the middle of the pool. I didn't know how to react, so I pretended like I was planning on reading anyway, and left. On my way out, I heard my mother say something like, "Have you ever thought of someone you love who has passed...and all of sudden it hits you harder than ever?" I knew she was talking about my uncle. Her brother. He died unexpectedly when I was in 8th grade. It was October 21, I think, which is kind of said just because I know the day he died but I don't know his birthday. Anyway, he died in his sleep at a friend's house. It had something to do with drugs or alcohol or, knowing my uncle, probably both. My parents never told me the full story because they don't know it themselves. Under normal circumstances I would suspect they were just withholding information from me, but I caught my mother researching drug related deaths multiple times.
I guess we'll never know, but if you want to know the truth, I don't lose any sleep over it.
If this sounds horrible, it's because it is: I didn't cry when he died, and I didn't attend his funeral.
Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God.

On to my nightmare...
I was sitting on my bed, on the side that faces the rest of the room, and my friend Rebecca, who I sit with in lunch, was sprawled on the other side, her upper back against the wall. Algebra notes and worksheets were spread in front of us, which makes sense because in real life, she helps me with my algebra homework when I'm having trouble. Anyway, neither of us were working on algebra and didn't plan on it. I was holding two small vials in my hand, both of them fatal.
Rebecca and I, we had a suicide pact. I don't know why I didn't make her swallow her poison at the same time as me, but I didn't. I opened my vial and drank from it, expecting immediate blackness, maybe a flash of pain and then nothing. Emptiness. But nothing of the sort happened. My stomach felt a little strange, but I was still sitting on my bed, alive.
"What?!" I yelled, turning the vial in my hands to read the small print. It said something about how the poison would be in effect once the person was sleeping...meaning I would die peacefully in my sleep. But this time, all these extra minutes I was having now, they were giving me second thoughts. "What do I do?" I asked Rebecca, who shrugged nonchalantly, as if I asked whether I should buy apple or orange juice. I tried to shove the second vial into her hands, but she slowly shook her head and told me no.
"NO?" I boomed. "What do you mean NO?!"
"I mean, no," she said calmly.
"We had a fucking suicide pact, Rebecca. You don't back out of a suicide pact at the last minute. What we were you going to do, watch me die and then walk out of here like you don't know what the fuck just happened?"
She didn't response, but the silence was enough of an answer.
"Jesus Christ," I said, still fuming. "I can't believe you, Rebecca."
Just then, my mother knocked lightly on the door and asked, "Is everything alright in there?"
This was the first time she had bothered to check on us, since my whole family was downstairs having a party. It must have been a holiday, or a family member's birthday, but I guess I thought it was a good day to kill myself because there'd be so many people in the house, no one would accidentally walk in on me during the act.
"We're fine," Rebecca replied, chipper as ever. I glared at her. "We're just working on algebra homework."
"Okay," my mother replied. She was obviously satisfied with that monstrous lie. "Come downstairs whenever you're done."
I listened to her footsteps fade, and then felt inconsiderate for not saying anything sentimental, like, "Mom, I don't hate you, even if I've said it a million times," or "I'm going to miss you, and I'm sorry." But then she would have known something was wrong, that I was already on a downward spiral towards death, I would have rather let myself die in my sleep than be hospitalized and eventually moved to an institution under suicide watch.
Still, I had no idea what I was going to do. I thought of all the places I had yet to see, all the people I never said goodbye, everyone and everything I would leave hanging...and now I was having second thoughts. I was cursing myself for ever putting my lips to that vial. I was cursing myself for not reading the goddamn label first. Under the weight of all these decisions and burdens, I broke down. I sobbed on my bed, hunched over, unaware of what to do. Do I allow myself to fall asleep, and give up? Or do I stay awake for days and days, terrified to go to sleep because I might never open my eyes? How would I know when the poison was out of my system?
"I don't know," I sobbed, looking up at Rebecca. She stared down at me, blank faced and unsympathetic, and I wondered how I could ever trust her with something as serious as a suicide pact.
Maybe I just wanted a way out.
Maybe this wasn't about the pact anymore. Maybe it never was. It was about how I wanted to die, but I felt the need for someone else's approval first. I needed someone to be there, someone who I could place my false faith in.
"I don't know anything anymore," I said, quietly this time. I settled into a more comfortable position on the bed. Curled on my side, facing the wall, I said, "Good night, Rebecca."
And I closed my eyes.



I'm sorry if that disturbed anyone in the slightest. It disturbed me, too. I would up curled on my side, facing the wall, and flipped out. I was sweating even though I was shaking, and I didn't know where I was. Then I realized my mother was saying, "Laura, it's 5:30, wake up."
I realized it was just a nightmare.
Just a horrible, mind-bending nightmare.

On the bright side, it was the only school morning of the past two weeks in which I was thrilled to be awake.