The Protector

XXXVIII

I'm running through the forest. Each blade of grass presses against the soles of my feet, tickling at the worn skin from years of running around barefoot - especially as a child. One of my favourite things to do as a toddler was refuse to wear socks or shoes, just to sprint down the cement streets without a single care. I'm fairly certain that there were several occasions where shards of glass became buried in my feet. I wouldn't notice until Lulu would carry me home, scolding me for being careless before Mum would remove the pieces while I cuddled up with Jay and Lew as they read their school books.

As I'm bounding across the acres of green, I'm almost knocked off of my feet by three sizable pups who race over to who I assume is their Mother. The larger white and blonde beauty is laid on her stomach, watching with adoration over the three babies that run into her loving embrace.

Her peach tongue combs over the head of the smallest who runs in last place, unbothered by being slower. The tiny thing doesn't seem displeased, instead puffing itself up and growling at its larger siblings in a miniature challenge. After shaking free of its Mother's grasp, it joins in on a friendly fight. Bouncing over each other, rolling around in the short blades, they remind me of Yin and Yang as the black and white clashes against one another.

The Mother shuffles slightly, nose bumping over the heads of two infant puppies - barely a year old. She calmly cleans them up as they nap in her warm fur. One twitches, yawning to stretch out the ginger fluff that pairs with the thick auburn of the other baby. Upon realising what the older puppies are doing, it wobbles over to play too.

The three elders, yip, running circles around the baby. The black beauty lays down, the two pearlescent siblings nudge the younger onto the offered back. The game then proceeds, the tiny puppy slumping over the back and holding on with its tiny teeth. Meanwhile, the fifth puppy watches over its shoulder while huddling into its Mother's chest.

The image fades as my eyes begin to hesitantly open. Admittedly, it's difficult to tell whether the ceiling I'm scowling at is real with the way it moves between the transparency of water to that of a brick. However, the migraine that soon collides with the backs of my eyes tells me this is very much real - pain in dreams is in no way this intense. At this rate, life is going to become one constant headache.

I can already feel my skin absorbing the vitamins catapulting into the room from the open blinds, why are they even open? Probably for the best in the long run. If this is anything like the numerous previous times I've woken from a death defying sleep, it'll have been a few days at least. Therefore, this has been my only means of receiving necessary nutrients.

Bathing in the serenity for a few more minutes, my brain kickstarts to readjust after a lot of patience - my mental recovery time is taking longer the more it happens. Judging by the numbness of my body, it has definitely been a few days - no more than a week I'd say. It's sad to think a lot of the two months following my birthday have been spent unconscious because of the situations I've gotten myself into - I really need to start using my measly brain more. Though, the times I have been awake have involved a lot of crazy events.

Thankfully, I've been moved to my room instead of being left on another steel drying rack. The comfort is helping ease my muscles back to life. I truly hate being in those dreary care rooms. If I'd had to wake up in there once again, the house would explode from my traumatised screams.

Rolling my head from shoulder to shoulder, the joints crack. It's so good to be moving again. The amount of dreams where I'd been stuck in the same spot while the world continued to function around me was torturous. My unconscious imagination really needs to learn how to be more creative.

Twisting until I have the ability to move from my back to my arse causes many pleasurable grunts from the releasing liquid between bones. Now aware of the surroundings to the fullest, it is rather endearing that I am nowhere near alone. In fact, I am in the centre of a full blown crowd.