Silk Sheets

I met him through a mutual friend. She introduced him to me at a party and we hit it off right away. Everything flowed like river water, the dates and moving in together, the sediments we dragged along were ignored as they only dirtied our water. Until they brought us to the waterfall.

I’ve always been a person of dreams, of optimism, I think that’s what made him fall into my net. The first day we met, the first dream came: I was trapped and couldn’t see anything, until I broke through the walls that surrounded me. I was small and the world was big, all new. I felt rejuvenated. It was a new sense, a new beginning.

When we moved in together, we had our first fight. I felt it was no longer the same and he assured me that it never was, that everything changes. And I asked if ours was for the better. In that night’s dream, I was thirsty. My throat was a drought and the unintelligible sounds it produced lashed the crops, mimicking them as they were dying. I roamed the vast world that now seemed intimidating to me. Until I reached the end. Metal bars had forever condemned my days. Losing the freedom I had once appreciated as much as the water I now needed was devastating. When I woke up, I relaxed because it was all a dream. I took a glass of water and retreated back into my sheets.

The third dream perched on my window the week we weren’t speaking to each other. I was wrapped in something soft that would have been pleasant if it weren’t tearing my soul out with every breath. My attempts to free myself were futile. I couldn’t breathe. I tossed and turned, digging my nails into what was trapping me. And again, it was all a dream. I woke up in my bed, and the only thing enveloping me were his arms. That was my last moment of peace. After that, everything was distant echoes that deafened my mind. The words felt like poison seeping into our blood, burning us from the inside. I was weaker than ever without his protection. My pale skin was fading at the touch, as if made of spider’s web.

For the final dream, I had a glint in my eyes that could express my anger or my sadness. So I broke the silk, its frayed remnants were not to blame, but in doing so I flew. I flew free with the illusion that had once characterized me. And I looked back at that unmade bed and that beast that had kept me blinded. But it was too late because the metamorphosis was complete.