The Wake up

I woke up in a sweat, it was a dream. I spent the day reliving the dream over and over; this is perhaps the clearest I have ever remembered a dream and I almost wish I didn't. You see, my subconscious is plotting against me. It is plotting the downfall of my conscious mind.

With that dream, this morning is askew. Nevertheless, I didnt stop my usual almost tedious routine and was even more meticulous, each action with deep thought and consideration. I brushed my hair ever so gently and each stroke of my make-up brush appeared to be calculated and mechanical. I smiled within myself at the quirky yet amusing manner I carried out each task.

Finally, I was done, hair carefully coiffed, powder press smoothed, lips glowing, perfect! My significant other woke up and appeared stunned at the sight of me. "You look beautiful" he said and without thought I replied "but I don't feel pretty" sighed and left the room. Drove to work humming show tunes. I thought I might be headed for a mental breakdown. Only, it was an uneventful day.

"I own you! I define you, you have nowhere else but here. Here is where you belong and you know it!" I hear the thundering of his voice as I move from room to room searching for the keys and well, protection. I thought to myself that rotten baseball bat couldn't be far. It was too late as he charged into the room; all I saw was red. I had threatened to leave again and like the other times all it did was more violence and once again I had drawn no blood of mine.The butterflies had died and once again the garden had withered, highs and lows that neither he nor I can explain, only I can tell the story with my battle scars.

All I could brandish was the weapon of my love and how it riles him.  I have sat and waited, I have fought with thoughts that transcend the outward façade I put on for my mother, for my daughter. She chose you for me, I chose you for her. Over and over, my mother spoke her subtle words to me; how she can never hurt me, never lead me astray and I knew that, so I listened. Then there was Ify, my dearest, helpless but fearless.

I left, fearing for those who are lured into you snare, not knowing that sadness and hate can never be synonymous to joy and that love lies only in your crafty words and swift ways.  I knew all along but only just realised.