An Odd Numbered Morning

I don't usually like to make any writing public outside of myself, and this is no exception. However, it is something I feel I need to do in this instance for my own self.

                 I awoke to the breeze of precious taps on my windowpane. They were calm and understanding touches of sound as I slowly left the dream. It is typical to awake in a daze, slightly annoyed with a heavy feeling of self-fragmentation. Not only typical, but a persistent reality for the past seven months. God, who I was before these seven months I can hardly recognize. I was a gullible infant who was left to agonize in foreign sickness in a place half the world away from home. I was unable to get a single bite or drop of liquid into my body while sleeping was impossible when my skin persisted to ooze sweat into my own personal pool of misery. We had no money to get medicine, I gave it all to him. I dreaded asking my parents for any. I felt I would have rather died than to feel I have surmounted to a failure in their eyes. The dream lured back in place of my recollection of such dreadful memories. There was a party, it seemed everyone I have ever known was there to celebrate. I never thought I could have known so many people in all my life. This took me from my endless feeling of isolated loneliness. I was still in search of something, though. I couldn’t enjoy the party because something still felt fragmented. This dream morphed back into a dark-well, I’m unsure of what or where I was for all that was recognizable was the thick darkness. There was a man, and he was coming for me. From where he was coming I do not know. His steps were methodical and calm, taking ages to appear out of the dark. I stood more still than an ancient statue. Something in me knew it would be him before his appearance came into view. Only when his face finally peered through the unforeseeable did I find my intuition as truth. I waited for it to be over, for him to take me to wherever it was he planned. I waited to once again become a victim of overpowering cruelty. But something strange happened, he could only stand there and tempt me with beautiful words of false paradise. I then realized he could not take me anywhere, where I would go would be by my willingness. The moment just before this understanding hung for a time that felt full of hours before I found the courage to speak. These words marched out slow and decisive: “I will not go with you, for I am free.” As soon as those words touched freedom in their external existence from my mouth, it seemed they induced a sort of magic spell; another man appeared from the darkness, but this time he was my protector. It was my father, and upon his arrival that familiar face was forced to flee. I awoke in a quiet peace that was devoid of fear. This is a cherished morning.