Monday, 5 September 2011

The Message

To the Happy Little Girl I always wanted to be.......... This life is not over!  

The room is every bit as ancient as the past... I watch the light fade upon familiar faces in an eerie twilight kind of way, I sense silence could be cut with a knife, but the absolute knowledge that I’m actually asleep, watching from afar and completely aware of a progressively frightening situation, makes the experience all the more outlandish. The whole atmosphere abhorrent, I sit rigid, clutching off white cobwebbed table linen. I know categorically I don’t want to be here but a much, bigger part of me recognises sweet childhood faces. I instinctively know that right now, this is the place I must be.

Just as I hear a child’s far away cry this briefly tenses me a whole lot further, movement at the head of the table signifies I really do know this child; I stare hard at the little blonde-haired boy, he moves in slow motion towards mouldy, mouse infested food which sits right in front of him. Slowly, unbelieving, I look to the left of the little Blonde boy, another sad whisper of a child; her beautiful, sad, empty eyes stare beseechingly towards me... Next to her, a woman, auburn hair wildly backcombed, empty eyes which don’t stare because, for some reason I don’t see a light or any recognition and If you asked directly I would insist she look’s dead, that would be if her right hand wasn’t twitching as it rests upon the table.

I breathe deep as I inhale tiny particles of dust from the room. On the other side of the table I see another young boy, his eyes ice blue and full to the brim with tears. Immediately I fill up myself. I’m beginning to understand the strange significance of this... to his left another little boy, slightly older and again reaching forward for food, food that is no longer viable but, there's a hunger moving around the table. Again the faraway child’s intense cry sounds louder, crying longer each time it penetrates the room.  I look to the walls, instantly I observe rosy pictures... childhood pictures of photo’s that should have been taken but weren’t, happy faces of beautiful children as they play together without a care in the world... the strange thing is though when I see each and every photo it fizzles, leaving a dark, angry mark on the walls of the room.  

I look back to the table; my family still stationary although now they all look towards me, I stifle a scream as I clearly see that the skin on their faces has disgustingly begun to decompose...  Leaning back in my chair... I know these children are my siblings and the woman is our mother... I realise the dream means so much more, I especially sense the closure, it explains at long last that no matter what I would have done in a life, present or previous, there would have been nothing I could have done to make all the adult wrongs right... I know I am blessed to have been given such beautiful brothers and sister, but sadly knowing the rights or even wrongs on the journey wouldn’t have made the path for us any easier... eventually only we, individually, could do that through making right choices! ... Watching the scene before me I raise very slowly, I don’t want to wake-up yet... Unfinished business... I still hear the child crying, I also feel the thread between us and confusingly it’s very strong. I desperately want to see her, comfort her and tell her it’s going to be alright!

The big brown, dirty door is heavy as it opens. Nervously I step into a dark, dismal corridor... My eyes adjust to the darkness and just outside that door; there she sits, cross-legged. Her tiny shoulders shudder gently with each cry as it struggles to erupt from her throat; her dark blonde head rests on her chest.  Slowly I bend to try and reassure her it is going to be alright. Crouching down, I place my hand tentatively on her head. A few moments pass, her tears begin to stop, when she looks upto me, I gasp almost falling over, the reason I do this is because instantly I recognise myself ... The sadness, overwhelmingly explodes within us both. Naturally I reach forward; standing her up I tenderly wrap her in complete unconditional love, as I carefully whisper...

“Jane you don’t worry anymore, it’s going to be ok, you’re going to be alright, never forget I love you”