Novelist and Poet

Chapter Twenty-seven 

side from the usual predatory demon, I had other chilling dreams that night. 

In the first, a barely audible voice in my head kept telling me I needed to wake up. In my hazy vision, I could see I was in my room, and yet I was desperate to get out of it and find the others. An omnipotent force pulled my body quickly through the air. I couldn’t control it. 

“Mom?” I called. 

There was no response. 

I followed the sound of a radio playing. It led me to a closed door, but when I gave it a push, there was no one inside. 

“Mom? My head hurts,” I said. 

Now I was merely a ghost of a child, and what lay beyond the door was off-limits to me. I felt ready to faint or fade into oblivion. The silence and emptiness of the large house seemed to pose a threat. Was I dead? The thought pained me. I floated toward a banister in the corridor and gazed down the stairway, then gripped my aching head. It seemed like if someone didn’t reach out to me, I was sure to fall and keep falling. 

In the next dream, I was in some desert with golden brown sand dunes but no rocks, no boulders, and no sign of life until a horned lark flew by. Seagulls followed it, landing to scavenge in the sand. The squawking of the gulls turned to harsh wails of distress. I thought they were dying, and the moment I noticed that, they lay dead in the sand, every one of them. I could see their bones. Then the lark took an unexpected dive, continuing to descend until all I could see were its black wings in the sand. Now the person on the beach was not me. It was my mother. I could see her eyes, and they looked normal, as if she didn’t notice the lark, the dead seagulls, or the bones left in their wake. Finally, I was myself again, looking up as dark clouds hovered, worrying that it would be dark soon. 

It appeared someone had left me in this place tangled up in barbed wire. The sand was gone, and darkness surrounded me as I fell into an abyss, no longer tangled in the wire. It was hard to tell if someone had thrown me there, or if I had escaped, but when I looked up, there was an opening above all the blackness where I could see swirling clouds that were black, grey and gold covering a grey sky with just a hint of the sun’s light. Angie was there! She seemed calm now, in a white gown, a crown of flowers in her hair—yellow gerbera daisies, white jasmine, and black calla lilies; I was sure of it, though she was far away. Beyond her was the backdrop of a wintry scene with snow-covered trees and a glowing lamppost, just like a Christmas card I’d once seen—one she would have loved. 

She tossed something down to me. As it got close, I couldn’t move, couldn’t grasp it, and I was in tears. It was nothing more than a blank piece of paper, but a sense of relief came when I realized it didn’t matter if I caught the page; I saw it. 

“It’s okay, Dani,” she said, her voice distant. “I told you. It will be okay.” 

After that, it was night, and I was with Quinton under the moon and stars, sitting on what seemed to be a high concrete wall in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind it was Quinton, though I didn’t picture him. We talked. God knows about what, but we were aware that I was also asleep in my bed. It felt like an out-of-body experience. 

The feeling of Angie’s presence lessened but never faded that night. Even after Quinton and the wall, I felt she was still there as I slept, watching over me like the angel she was. 

When I woke, I had to process every detail. What I derived from the dreams was that fear had me trapped with many obstacles to overcome, and I was punishing myself, avoiding reality, allowing people and things to keep me down. Part of me continued to lament my loss of innocence, my fall from grace, and I was stuck in the past, afraid to move forward. I was angry, grieving, drowning in guilt, and seething over betrayals, lost, desperate, and confused. At the same time, I was healing and becoming cleansed, seeing a light in the distance and fighting to break through to the other side of this misery and helplessness. There was a protective hand of love reaching out to me, urging me on, and I knew inner peace was attainable if I could manage to grasp it. 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.

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