Photo by Hide Obara on Unsplash

PTSD Nightmare

A flashback of my own frights

i’m in a house. it’s not my own. mom isn’t home. rain storm. it won’t stop. i’m no longer in the house but now in the rain. i’m soaking wet. i’m back inside, yelling MOM. no reply. i’m all alone. i’m soaking wet.

a wolf is chasing me. i can’t catch my breath. i enter a stand-alone door. where’s the house? i walk through the door and slam it behind me, holding my breath. the wolf crashes its body against the door, so i run to the next door. again — no house attached. just a door. i walk through that one and repeat. slam it. hold my breath. i hear the wolf coming through to me. i turn to the next door. repeat. next. repeat. hold my breath. run. trembling. legs tired. next. hands on knees. catch my breath. repeat. next. next. next. next. slam the door. repeat. hold my breath. sweating. shaking. heart racing. next. repeat. slam the door. repeat. he’s nearing me closer and closer. i’ve reached the last door.

i wake up, drenched in sweat. no one is beside me. where’d he go? i check my phone. dead. is he dead, too? no one can notify me if my phone is dead. reach for the charger. it’s broken. pounding chest matches the pounding at the door. i race to check the peephole. flashing blue and red lights. men in uniforms. badges. pounding louder. where are you? i go back to bed and cover myself under the covers. i can’t breathe…