Even Love Lies

Though the week continued with the dreams, I decided to fight the dream less in hopes of remembering more details that may be useful. As per Kayla's suggestion, I kept a notebook by my bed so that the first thing after I woke up, I could jot down details that had grown more clear- even the silly vampire ones.

"Do I really have to record them?" It was embarrassing to share them with her as we tried to decipher them. "I feel like they're just little kid fears that my mind replaced with things I didn't understand."

Kayla turned around from making hot cereal.

"See what you just said?"

"What?" She rolled her eyes.

"Even if the actual event seems silly, you can record what you think they mean. You should write down what you feel about them. Your adult brain can, hopefully, understand better about how a little kid might process those sort of things." I gasped at her sarcastic 'hopefully' but she wasn't wrong. From that point on, I decided to carry it with me, since my mind was constantly thinking about it anyways.

It is better to do something than nothing- I started to chant it in my mind when I wanted to do nothing more than drive to the nearest ocean and let the waves swallow me whole. Even having a thought like that, sometimes certain words stood out slightly

The ocean. I scribbled it down in my notebook too. A sense of discomfort bloomed at opening my notebook in public, so eventually I started recording some of my notes on my phone and began doodling images that briefly flickered through my mind, and most of the time they were nothing more than an eye, or a rough body shape, but drawing them caused a warmth to encompass my heart. The fantasy I cautiously let myself believe was that maybe they were vague images of my family.

Despite the good things that were being recorded, I couldn't help but feel disheartened. Kayla looked for any leads she could on 'The Underground', but she hadn't yet found anything which matched my description. The Underground business, The Underground restaurant- all dead ends. It didn't help that we had no idea what distance radius we should even look in; there were so many possibilities. The place could very well be in a different state- or even worse, a far away country. And even though I knew I shouldn't keep things to myself- as more details of the dream became more clear, so did the silly things. The images of bloody and horrible creatures encroached my mind, and a sliver of doubt sat upon my brow. Could a child really imagine creatures like that just to replace theoretically even worse memories? I decided to keep that question for Mrs. Shiva. Maybe I had witnessed something so horrible that the details had shifted- some animal attack, something real.

Now when I woke up from the dream, instead of the overwhelming sadness, I began to wake up panting for breath as if I had barely escaped them.

On Saturday, I woke up and dragged myself to my appointment- my drowsiness still ever so present. In the few hours I was awake, I had a hard enough time dealing with everything and studying for classes, and I decided that I would take a hiatus for a few months. Just a few months, I told myself. I'll fix this. I'll get better.

The smell of lavender assaulted my nose as I walked into the waiting room, paying the secretary the copay and sitting down until my appointment started. My eyes began to inch shut, but I kept myself together. Blasting music in my car was barely enough to calm Kayla about me driving, but I didn't want her involved in this aspect of my life. Looking at my watch, I counted the number of hours I had slept yesterday and wrote it down- seventeen hours. That was much more than I usually did. Usually I slept a relatively normal amount but was dog-tired the whole day, but maybe this was a small step in the right direction? Did I feel more rested? The packet she had given me last time remained uncompleted in my pocket, but I was hoping she would read it to me instead. Everything had become draining, and time itself had blurred together.

The term 'yesterday' was not a real word anymore. It was 'some time ago' and 'before I ate my most recent meal', which in itself had lost the prospective times of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My body jolted awake as the door opened; the previous patient exited her office. After they left, Mrs. Shiva came to the doorway and welcomed me inside, asking if I wanted a drink. It was hard to focus on a drink or even shallow conversation when I wanted to find a good way to let her take in everything, which felt like a lot, that I had started to focus on. Taking the same seat as last time, my small backpack felt as if were on fire and burning my skin.

"Hello Typha, welcome back. I hope you've had a good week."

"T-thank you." The words fumbled out. "I didn't end up completing the packet." I let a pause hang in the air.

"That's no problem. Did you think over anything important? Or do you want to continue talking? Before we start, I would like to ask you a question." The bag at my feet was heating up the entire room.

"Okay." For the first time that day, my discomfort made me feel more alert and awake then I had felt in months.

"Since you have no previous memories from before you were ten years old, how did you gain the name 'Typha'?"

Oh, that wasn't what I was expecting. Thinking about it, I didn't know for 100% that my name was Typha, but it felt right. It felt like good things- like the spray of the sea-winds, the gentle songs hummed in the night.

"It's my name; I haven't known any other. I don't know for sure, but it feels... like it fits. Fits a small gap between then and now, at least, that's what I believe."

She nodded, her full attention on me. There was no laptop this time clicking away as I talked. It was difficult to tell which one I preferred right now.

"There actually is something I've been doing," I jumped to the point- the suspense was killing me. "I think the dream I've been having may be linked to my memories. My friend and I have a theory that certain aspects of it are real, and that maybe other aspects are my childish attempt to understand things which I didn't."

The words tumbled out quickly, and though I cared last time about how she perceived me, after everything growing worse, I felt as if time was running out. The sense was based on no logic, but I couldn't help but feel that way. Something is coming, the murky voice whispered. Something is coming, and you can't stop it.

"That would make a lot of sense- processing trauma can happen in a lot of unique ways." A hum from me acted as my insurance that I was listening.

"Even though you didn't complete the packet, do you think it helped you?" Another nod tipped my chin, and I shot to what I really wanted to tell her.

"I've been keeping a journal- my friend suggested it. I've been recording details of the dream, random things that feel so vaguely familiar. I was hoping maybe you looking at it could shed some light on what's happening- what happened." It was less a few thoughts and more of a plead. The zipper yelped as I tore it open and pulled it out, placing it in her hand. Silence enveloped the room as she flipped through the pages languidly, pausing at times to ask me questions.

"Do you mind if I take pictures of certain pages so I can keep track of what we want to look into during future sessions? I think your friend made a marvelous suggestion. The only thing I could further suggest is asking other people about your childhood. The family you spoke of before- perhaps the home which received you. I think if you are interested in finding answers, it would be best to look for others who have a different point of view regarding your situation. You may find what they have to say is valuable."

Once again, that blankness consumed me. Going back? My stomach coiled up uncomfortably. Was my discomfort entirely based with me- did I feel guilty? The tangle in my stomach tightened. Mrs. Shiva was right- it would help me find answers.

Answers were the only thing that could help me right now. What am I supposed to do if they don't?

"I think that's a good idea," I submitted.

Somewhere after the first thirty minutes of session, I made up and excuse to end early to let my mind wander. Once I had escaped the lavender smell of their building, my steering wheel became my headrest. A plan began to form in my brain, and with it in mind I turned on the radio and drove back to our apartment.

Rain started to pour on the black asphalt, and the road reflected the bright yellow and red lights of traffic. The violent torrents bounced and created a static-like blur which swallowed everything whole. The cars in front of me seemed like they were encapsulated in an opaque film, and my window sweepers barely allowed me to see the white line marker of the road. I turned my radio down and tried to stay calm, the murky voice blending in with the thrashing of the rain and howl of the wind.

A car honked behind me and I put my hands back on the steering wheel. Breathe.

Foot on the gas pedal, eyes focused on the road. The downpour only roared louder, and the AC in my car felt damp as my windows began to fog. Pulling into a parking lot, I parked my car and covered my ears as the rain drilled into the roof of my car. My lungs quivered as everything felt like it was closing in on me; like my car was slowly swallowing me like a snake. Water was pooling in my car- ice was forming on my skin. It's not real Typha.

The front half of my car felt like it had lurched forward violently, but when I looked up, I knew nothing was there. My nails clawed on my throat as though I was drowning, and my knuckles stumbled with the doorknob. Get out-

With my weight pushing against the door, the latch finally unclicked, and the dewy-metallic smell of the storm seeping into my skin. Slamming it closed behind me, I walked towards trees which marked the entrance of a park. Get out- it repeated. Shivers ran up and down my bones, and with the coverage of the trees, my breathing slowly came back to normal. My clothes were soaked, but I was okay. Everything was okay now. Through my eyelashes, I could vaguely see the outline of a sign- one of those green signs which talked about historical sites. Looking back to the wide oak trees, I wasn't surprised that this place had been here for awhile. I traced the span of the park with my eyes, seeing a covered walkway by a large railing.

As my breath began to leave ghost-trails, I pulled my clothes around me tighter and lightly trotted under the covering, a grateful hum murmuring from deep inside my chest. Turning around, I looked over the railing to see a coursing river. I watched it swell and splash against the concrete siding of the walkway, and it reminded me of a wild animal violently scratching for a way out. My phone ringed within one of my pockets, and after fumbling with my many layers, I held it up to my right ear.

"Hello?" My voice echoed once more, a strange sort of note bouncing back- oscillating and growing louder like it was supposed to be a voice.

"Kayla, what the fuck is wrong with your phone?" The note started ringing at an annoying pitch, and I flinched away from the speaker before ending the call. After a moment, a text buzzed through my phone.

Sorry, my phone isn't letting me call you. Are you ok? Why aren't you home yet? I read the message for a moment. Isn't letting her call me? I made a mental note to myself that I would have to bug her to get her phone looked at. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment.

It started raining pretty bad over here, so I pulled off the road. I'm waiting for the storm to calm down. I paused for a moment. I'll be home soon; can you do me a favor and pull some fresh clothes out for me? I got soaked. Send. The loading circle looped for a few seconds before it said my message was delivered. I stared at the screen for a moment before putting my hands into my pockets, my attention brought back to the river. On a nicer day, Kayla and I should come back here. The sky darkened as the storm clouds hovered overhead. The snowdrop lights of the walkway flickered on, and the park reminded me of fireflies on July evenings.

Even in the rain, this park was a relaxing place to be. The walkways felt like they had known the walks of countless lovers, and the benches spoke to years of children and mothers eating ice-cream, or old people watching youth blossom around them. It was the sort of place you knew had known countless happy memories. And the river-

I turned around. Somehow, it was the only thing here which made me feel sad. Staring deeply into it, I hadn't realized it had stopped raining until another car pulled into the parking lot. With noticing that, I walked back to my car and turned on my seat warmer.

The ride home was short and easy- easy like it had used to be before everything started to slowly fall apart. And with what had happened in the car, I almost had a small bit of gratitude that I had stumbled upon that park. That notion from before- of being a dead ghost to this world. Today, it felt vaguely like a good thing. For today, it meant waking up.