The Lamppost

I’ve been having those awful nightmares again, where I wake up screaming, kicking and fighting with people I don’t know. I don’t know why it started up again. My peaceful slumber has not been this badly disturbed since... The Lamppost.

I remember my back colliding with it. I remember him side-stepping me, to throw me off his scent. I remember my mind grappling with the instincts of fight or flight. I remember my mom waking me to try to calm my cries, I’d screamed again, waking her.

I got ready; a doctor’s appointment scheduled, he took one look at me and upped my dosage- the pain killers were never meant to numb my fears, just kill the pain creeping up my spine. He suggested sleep and I forgot how to argue, my dreams already calling to me to see the day replayed. My eyes are still dry and I’m still complacently numb.

The day started out young and dreary, the vacant streets longing to be trampled by school-goers and work seekers. I’d timed my departure precisely; my mom dawdled, trying in vain to find her other shoe. It was routine for us to leave together, to wait on opposite sides of the busy street for busses that never met but traversed to opposing area filled with people.

She was running late and I could not afford to do the same. I left the door unlocked, yelling a quick “have a good day” as I managed to shut the outside security gate. I walked swiftly and pinned the feeling in my tummy to a mixture of abrupt movement and oatmeal.

I realise now that the streets were too deserted, but I had somewhere to be and the earliness was beginning to play with my mind.

No-one was there when I arrived; that meant nothing to me at the time. I waited... not long, never too long before someone would arrive.

Just like clock-work a face appeared as though he’d followed me. He seemed nervous about something, yet confident in his step; I thought nothing of it.

I shifted backward slightly, so that he could safely step by me and he did just that... I guess it was an afterthought on his part to grab the handles of my hand bag. There really was nothing of value inside, I just simply could not let go. I pulled, he tugged; I tugged, he pulled... I just simply could not let go.

My throat started to hurt as his eyes grew larger, I don’t remember their colour just the fear the encased as my shouting grew louder and someone rushed closer to us.

He spotted the man, the one whose name I never asked but always smiled a ‘good morning’ to. Giving up all hope, my assailant discarded me and my handles and allowed gravity to slap me backwards (as with every game of tug-of-war)... into the lamppost.

The nameless man who always got my smiles spoke words I didn’t understand as a roaring approached my ears stopping in front of me, the bus driver knowing me all too well.

My tears rushed from the moment I sat in my seat on the rolling vehicle, only ceasing when I was tucked safely in bed two hours later. Only to dream and scream as the fear in his eyes loomed larger than the lamppost.