Home » Poems » Jolene Cheyney » Nightmares

Nightmares

About 9 years old was the child
when nightmare first they dreamed.
For many years this nightmare 
would often try 
her courage to subdue, 
but now her sleep is silent.

During the day she'd often play
with her dog, Whiskers.
Now this dog once bit her dad
to protect her when
she screamed, 
but that's another story.
The dog had proved 
to her ever loyal.

Her dream that night began 
just like every other. 
She was in the yard skipping rope, 
Whiskers right beside her.
Suddenly the urge was great
to climb the tallest tree, 
something she had never before 
even dreamed of doing.
She must have sensed 
her dog grow tense
alerting her to danger.
She scurried to the top
and when she sat she saw 
the reason for the fright.

From this tree she could see
house and barn and yard.
And a man she'd never met before,
tall and strong in stature.
His boot and step 
testified to his authority.

But the look on his face 
spoke volumes more;
it displayed a 
sickening thing, 
Doing harm 
brought him 
intense pleasure.

He searched her home,
and inside each farm building.
She knew that she 
would soon be found 
when she learned all his tactics.
Every blade of grass he turned
and every bush he circled. 

When this man approached her tree,
her dog went on defensive. 
Whiskers' voice rang out a snarling growl,
his teeth were clearly seen.
His task was to protect this child,
otherwise he was NEVER mean.

The man then stood beneath her tree,
her loyal friend neutralized.
Immediately 
she saw his chin turn upward, 
and 

SNAP

she opened up her eyes.

This nightmare flashed through her mind
gave rise to restless sleep 
until age twenty-seven.
As she moved geographically,
her dream would change to match.
But some elements were ever constant:
hiding from the man of authority,
the EXTREMELY methodical search,
waking up when...
discovery is inevitable.

Now there's many nights
when she sleeps very little,
or not at all. 
But when she does, 
she finds her slumber silent.

She'll be forty next month,
something that brings on deep reflection.
The nightmare has come to mind
from time to time during
daylight hours of silent nights.
Now she'll purge it from her system.

She just wishes one answer could be had,
a loud, resounding WHY.

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