Quiver

The Pond Dream

When I was barely ten years old, I started having a series of dreams. The same nightmare over and over. I called this dream "The Pond Dream." It was the beginning of the worst. The pond dream itself wasn't as bad as other nightmares I've had. There was no begging or screaming or knives or bleeding. But it was symbolic.

The first person I ever had the pond dream about was my best friend, Anne. I was completely dependent on her, she became my only reason to breathe. Then she moved away. Among the symptoms I began having at her loss, the pond dream was one of them. She's the original character, I guess. In a sick way. 

For the sake of this story, I'll tell it with Anne. 

The dream begins with an evergreen forest. It has a path that I'm walking down. The sky is blue. There is no sound. Silence. The world is completely mute. After walking down the path for a minute I reached a clearing.

There were trees. Beautiful, shimmering trees with silver bark reflecting the sunlight. It had whimsically colored leaves, all of the leaves on all of the trees were lavender. The sky itself was lavender. Birds colored warm violet flew around the trees chirping short, cheerful notes. The water, too, was a light violet, with reflections depicting the branches above.

And there was Anne. Anne was sitting on the edge of the pond, her feet dangling in the water. She was at peace. Everything seemed perfect. 

That was until Anne's feet were dragged under, and her body plunged beneath the surface.

Anne's strong. She can swim. As I ran towards the pond I suppose I expected her to resurface. But she didn't. I could see her vaguely through the purple water. She was slowly sinking down. Drowning. But I loved her. I could never lose her. So I jump in after her. Once submerged, I tried to kick my legs. They were immobilized. 

Sinking down further, I knew I needed to grab Anne. She looked up at me fearfully and fell unconscious. I grabbed her arm as I grew closer to her. I couldn't see the bottom of the pond, but I knew the further we fell the darker the water got. While the top was lavender, right below us was deep purple.

Thinking only, I need to save Anne, I need to save Anne, I was now able to move my legs. I began kicking, rising as fast as I could. I knew Anne didn't have much time. Nor did I. With the surface merely inches above my head I thought at least everything would be okay. The water above me was so light it seemed to represent the sky and not the water.

And then a dark black hand reaches through the water and holds me down. I kick with all my might while struggling to hold onto a dying Anne, but I'm not strong enough. In the end, I drown thinking that it was my fault Anne was dead. I drown with her corpse in my hands.

It's been a very long time since I've had the pond dream.

The last time I had it was in July. Everything seemed normal. It wasn't with Anne, however, it was with another friend. Everything was going the way it usually does. The evergreen forest, the purple trees and sky and pond. The friend being dragged into the pond. They can't swim. I jump it. Neither can I.

My brain is racing with I need to save her, I need to save her. I begin kicking. I'm rising. The cold dark purple water is below me and only inches remain above me of light lavender water. I'm holding my soon-to-be-dead friend. 

And then the hand. It grasps my head and holds me down. I'm panicking. I'm thinking I'm going to die and this friend that I love so much is going to die, too. And it'll be all my fault. But then I remember my strength. I remember to look past the panic and think strategically because I know I can always find a way to outsmart my oppressors.

With my friend in one hand, I used the other to claw my nails into the black hand. The hand then retracts itself. I resurface with my friend in hand. I drag myself and her to the shore where I catch my breath. My friend is unconscious but alive. She'll be okay. And I realized I would, too.

If you talked to 11 year old me and told me one day I would survive the pond dream and destroy the hand I would've called you a liar.

At the time something like that would've seemed impossible. But it's not impossible to do the impossible. I thought of the pond dream with my recent struggles. Overcoming them feels impossible.

But one day I'll conquer them.