Chapter 15
The nightmare from the night before stayed fresh in my mind.
It made sense that Robert was in my dream because I had just spent an evening with him. He had taken me to a sushi bar, we sat on cushions crossed our legs and sat quietly looking at each other. There are few people in this world that you can just sit with and feel connected to, where silence is not awkward but welcoming. I feel safe and secure with Robert.
It is the second half of my dream that burns into my memory. His hands gripping around my neck and squeezing the last few breaths from my body. That type of death is very intimate.
After mulling hours over the possibility of what spawned my nightmare and wasting valuable company time as I stared at a blank computer screen, I chalked the dream up to fear. Fear of commitment. My subconscious was telling me that I should not be getting too serious, not just yet. It had only been over a month since we started “talking”. I need to slow things down.
It was the only logical explanation, if one attempts to find logical in dreams.
My purse vibrated on the back of my chair. I rummaged through my hobo bag and found my cell phone. I had a new text message from Robert: “Thinking of ya. Whats up for 2nite?”
The irony that I had just been thinking of him. A cold shudder ran down my back at the thought of Robert putting his hands on me.
“Family stuff, message you later.”
I put away my phone and finally got to work.
I spent a few days ignoring Robert, even though I had rationalized my dream. I took the simplest and most logical explanation.
I had Sushi with Robert. My last waking thoughts were of Robert, naturally he found his way into my dreams. That is that. While I spent an agonizing amount of time re-assuring myself this was it, there were always pangs of doubt.
“Stop being silly, you watch to many scary movies,” I told myself.
It was easy to avoid him with all my deadlines for work and moving myself back home. There was a lot of unpacking to do and catching up with my family. There was also the re-adjustment; my parents have rules that need abiding, rules I had not followed in over four years and this time round they seemed more rigid. It is hard giving up your freedom especially when you are in the prime of your life; at least I feel as I am.
Boxes lined the walls to my new room, garbage bags of clothes piled in the middle of the floor. Even though it was all my stuff, it still felt different. I had thought that my apartment was where I would be for a few years. It was small but quaint. Our living room and kitchen were small but our bedrooms were big and cozy. The windows were big and light shone in the afternoon for a few hours, just enough to keep my room toasty for when I went to bed.
My room at my parents house was in the basement, and even with the carpet it was dark and cool, the walls were painted a dark rich red which added to my despair.
The walls moaned and groaned telling its age through aches and pains. Getting used to my old surroundings will take a few evenings before it will feel like home again.