Dreams' Mirages | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Dreams' Mirages | Previous Challenge Entry
By Catherine Craig
08/04/06
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Bleakly Paul swallowed; illuminated only by his imagination, the screams and twisted faces of women being torn apart by wild animals seared his mind behind closed eyelids. He lay tossing on his narrow bed as his dark eyes widened; the burgeoning pain which had been gathering in his heart escaped and exploded into a hoarse cry that escaped from his lips seemingly of its own accord

“I am not a killer!” He shouted to the empty room, rolled over and wept into his pillow. The only sound besides his heavy breathing was the sound of a donkey braying outside the only small square window of his rented inn room.

The old feelings of shame and guilt washed over him. Paul’s former life was behind him; would these memories never go away? Coupled with the ever-present pain in the man’s limbs, the night pressed down suffocating him. Spent, he rolled over and threw a thin arm over his eyes in exasperation.

“God, where are you?” He whispered into the night. As an almost imperceptible sound not unlike the gentle flutter of a butterfly’s wings arrested his attention; Paul felt a warm Presence. A cool balm spread over his aching heart and his tormented mind relaxed. “Lord, are You there?”

“Paul, I have called you by name….you are Mine.”

The man’s breathing became even and shallow; his lips tightened resolutely as he spoke firmly into the darkness, “Lord, these things I leave behind. I will press forward to the high calling You have for me, counting all my schooling…. my former wealth as naught…that I might win the prize…” A cocoon of peace enveloped Joey as sleep claimed him.

“Fix your eyes upon Me Paul….I will not leave you nor forsake you….” Was the last thing he heard….

…As Joey woke with a start, she felt for the small digital clock on the maple nightstand beside her bed. Rolling to the edge, she pushed stray blond hair from her eyes and sat up…with effort. The dream had seemed so real it sent shivers up her spine

Everything hurt now; it just wasn’t fair.

The smart suits peeking from behind the half-open closet door mocked her. No more corporate meetings, no more fighting to beat deadlines. Nothing. The empty future stretched before her. Yesterday’s successes so important then seemed like mirages she’d never quite apprehended…and never would reach for again.

Both her mentor and business coach had agreed. They’d enthusiastically exclaimed, “Joey, you’re sharp; you have so much potential. Just focus. Stop jumping from thing to thing…be single-focused. You will be successful; you can do it.”

Spurred on both by their confidence in her as well as by countless coaching sessions, she’d fought to climb the corporate ladder and even tried to start her own business. As part of the baby boomer generation, like so many others she’d swallowed the hype about self-actualization….and for what purpose…to what end? Joey couldn’t remember. It all seemed so pointless now.

The words in her dream came back now. “I will press forward to the high calling….” Sighing, her blue eyes glanced over to the book lying open on the nightstand.

“That must have been what started the dream.” Her softly spoken words hung in the room as light from dawn filtered in through the window’s sheer curtains. “So tired…” she murmured and lay back on the bed. There was only energy to read.

“Chronic fatigue.” The doctor’s words haunted her.

The ‘invisible disease’ of all things to get; how was she supposed to explain to the people who knew and respected her that countless hours of sleep were never quite enough? They’d think she was nuts!

What did it matter? Her name would soon melt into the obscurity of forgetfulness. Joey like her disease would become invisible to the eyes of those whose respect and favor she’d fought so hard to win.
Absently she felt for the Bible and the switch for her bedside light. Leaning it on her chest, she skimmed the page again. It made sense. Paul’s life and attitudes had a weird kind of logic she hadn’t thought about in years.

“Leaving those things behind….” Joey murmured, “He did it; maybe I can.”

As her thoughts drifted to pleasant childhood memories set in the secure surroundings of church and home, soon all that could be heard was the dripping of a leaky faucet and her gentle snoring.

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