I Dreamt About You Last Night

bedsheets-dark-night-taken-by-krista-mangulsone Image : Unsplash

[Trigger Warning: Violent crime, blood]

I dreamt that I killed you last night. And I felt bad when I woke up. Not because I killed you, but because you were there.

How dare you appear again? How dare you appear and intrude my sleep once again? You’ll never have enough, will you? You think you can just pop up in someone’s life, break everything, and leave without even a fucking apology?

In my dream I’m walking down the street, at night. And you are here, behind me. So close. Like a demon pursuing me. You come closer and closer. I can almost feel your breath behind my ear. I turn around and with all my anger, I throw that blade in your stomach. It’s a cold-blooded crime. I turn the blade once. And again. I’m looking for what’s inside. Your hard shell falls down. I see you now — your manly, violent figure fade as you drop to your knees. I’m seeing the sadness in your eyes, the destroyed man deep down, the innocent and the guilty, the saint and the sinner. I remove the blade and let you lie down. A cold breeze is pervading your body like a relieving, icy dew after a smothering night. And as the blood is running on the floor, a tear is rolling down your face, wetting your beautiful blue eyes before you close them forever.

I think about you sometimes. I hate you. You broke my sleep. You broke my feelings. You broke my intimacy. You broke our friendship. And worst of all, you broke my trust. And you came back to take your fucking shelves.

It’s been four years. Four years since we have talked. But tonight I chose to talk to you. You will probably never read this. But if you do, I want you to know how I felt and how I still feel. You told me once that you didn’t care about people. You said you felt no love, no pain. I foolishly never believed it until that night when you ruined everything. And four years later, you are still haunting me.

The good memories remain in the back of my mind too. Do you remember that night you stole a ten-foot Christmas tree for our apartment? And the night you threw it through the window because you had enough of it? Do you remember how much we used to laugh? How we were there for each other?

And you ruined it all. You ruined a part of me, but you ruined your whole self. You gave me violence, but I gave you sorrow. You chained your soul to a life of remorse and penitence. Even if you don’t think about it, I know it is there, somewhere in you.

I didn’t kill you yesterday. I killed your carapace. I undressed you, took off your skin and revealed you naked; helpless and honest. A blackout before an illuminative light. The play is over, you can be yourself now. The red curtains are shut, and you lie there, so inoffensive, so harmless, like a newborn baby. The heavy flow of blood soils your pale skin – almost to expiate the evil in you. You unclench your fists, letting the weights of crime and guilt leave your body which is now finally raw and pure. And for a minute, I can look at you now, resting. I find my friend again. I find the good memories back and your stupid laugh delights my ears one more time. I find the shoulder I used to cry on.

But that only lasts a minute. Because it’s only an illusion.

I chose to speak to you tonight because I want you to know that I know who you are. No matter who you pretend to be, I know the weakness behind your virile attitude and big muscles. I want you to know that I’m stronger than you. I didn’t choose what happened that night. You did. But force will never make you stronger. Acceptance will. And while you will be hiding what happened that night from everyone and from yourself, I will accept it and live with it, with my head high and proud. That is why I am stronger than you. Goodbye.

 

Agathe Rochet OWTL Contributor
Agathe Rochet : Feminist. Sexuality and relationship writer. Punk & Football addict. Forensic psychology enthusiast. Singer (even if nobody likes it except me).
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