I had a nightmare tonight.
I don’t remember all of it. But I do remember one horrible part.
My mother threw rocks at me.
I do remember being on a bus with my entire family, kind of like the one we used on the day everyone came to see me graduate.
It’s night time, and it’s really dark on the bus. I am sitting up front, my mother next to me and my grandmother behind her.
Mom is throwing rocks at me and hitting me with them. She throws one and I curl into a ball and start to cry. She throws another and it hits me in the head and my body goes limp. I slide down to the floor and there are no more tears. I’m sprawled, spread-eagle, my head on the seat, body on the cold floor of the bus. I stay still, wondering if anyone in my family will notice.
I don’t actually see them do what I know they do next, but this is how it works in my dreams. I know what’s happening, even when I can’t see it. The rest of my family turns their heads and hum, as if to say, “Well, there’s an unfortunate situation, but I’m not part of it, so let me not get involved. Besides, she probably deserves what’s happening to her anyway.” I know that NAunt1 in particular does this while pursing her lips in condescension.
I am standing in front of my mother and I don’t remember what I said to her, or what she said to me. All I remember is that there was absolute anger, frustration and exasperation in her voice. Kind of like she was thinking, “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with you now?!”
Thankfully, then I woke up.
I don’t remember what I said in my last post, but a lot has happened since then. I’ve made the decision to move home. My flight away from this horrid place is next week. I will be living with my fiance, my soon-to-be-husband, and we will be living a life together.
And I’m terrified of what my mother will think, or try to do to me.
In all honesty she may be much of the reason I stopped writing this blog. What if she were to find out? What if my family told her? Would she never speak to me again? Would she chase me down and make me pay for expressing my deepest, darkest, truest emotions?
I’m scared to find out.
But there’s nothing I can do. The tickets are paid for. My room is empty. All bags are packed.
It’s time for me to go.
(Even if I may not be completely ready for what’s waiting for me.)