The Hands

There is one recurring dream that haunts her. She wakes up screaming softly, clothes drenched with sweat, heart pounding and panicked. She has had this dream as long as She can remember. It was so cliche' ... a dream so vivid, so pure, so real that it had to be. No matter how many times She has this exact same dream, She is terrified every single time.

The dream starts with her walking down the dark blue hallway. Walking quickly past the creepy altar. The shrine to Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary. She tried not to look at all the statues and pictures. Morbid figurines of a bloody Christ hanging from the cross. Sculptures of the Blessed Mother cradling the Messiah in her arms. Dolls of Baby Jesus wearing long, flowing gowns of gold. One has a crown on its head, but not one of thorns. Rapunzel-like hair down its back. Candles flickered all around, illuminating the otherwise drab walls. Those few seconds walking down that hallway seemed like an eternity.

She finally gets to the kitchen door at the end of the hallway and there they are. The Old Woman, smoking her nasty cigarettes and drinking that disgusting shit she calls coffee, sitting at the end of a horseshoe shaped bench. In the middle of the horseshoe was the kitchen table. Next to the Old Woman are the women She called the Cronies - pathetic excuses for friends. Like the Old Woman, they didn't do anything all day except for smoke, drink coffee, gossip and play Mah-Jong. The Cronies loved being with the Old Woman. They looked up to her like some kind of Matriarch of the neighborhood. The Old Woman always had someone by her side. Everyday. All day.

She makes the mistake of making eye contact with the Old Woman as she walked int the kitchen. The Cronies stopped gossiping for a moment and stared right at her like she was some kind of abomination. The Old Woman gestured for her to approach, but She didn't want to. She stood there, frozen. Petrified. The Old Woman commanded her to come near and she relented. She approached as slow as she could, knowing full well what was going to happen. She wanted to stall as long as She could. The Old Woman yelled at her to hurry up and she did. Then, She was bombarded with yelling and questioning. Did She think She was too good to say hi to the Cronies, the Old Woman asked. Who the hell did She think She was anyway? How dare She act this way around them and embarass the Old Woman so? She didn't have any answers to the Old Woman's questions. Just apologies. The Old Woman started to tell her what She had already heard for years ... that She was nothing with her. She needed to show more respect. She was an ungrateful little bitch and that She needed to remember her place in the house. As the scolding continued, the Old Woman reached out like most other times and grabbed her crotch. She tried to jump back and when She did, the Old Woman yelled even more. She started sobbing hysterically, but the Old Woman wouldn't stop. Her hands groped her over and over as the lecture continued. She needed to remember that the Old Woman owned her. How dare She not let her touch her at will. Everything that was her, was the Old Woman's. The Cronies laughed and laughed. She cried and cried. Finally, the Old Woman was done and She was allowed to leave.

Then she wakes up, looks to her left and sees the One sleeping next to her, snoring loudly in that most obnoxious way. She's happy to see and hear him there and is glad that it was just the dream and it was over. She lays her head back down on the damp pillow. She wraps her arms around the One as tight as she can. She dries her tears on his shirt and tries to go back to sleep. As She drifts off, She still can't help but wonder why the dream always felt so real. Like an extraordinary case of deja vu Everytime. So real that it had to be, right? Maybe it was.