Dancing with Shadows

’Have you ever had a dream so vivid you felt like you were actually living the experience? Like a real moment in time, like how I’m telling this story to you the reader right now? Like you’re a hundred percent sure that you lived it. As though a memory has penetrated your mind to tease you with moments in time...’ Ugh, I’m not explaining correctly what I’m trying to convey, to put to paper all the smoke-swirled thoughts twisting inside my mind. 

Shaking my head which in turn causes my light brown, almost blonde hair to flutter haphazardly around my face; I slam the writing utensil down on the table in front of me and look up at the therapist, my brow furrowing in frustration which has lines creasing my forehead. The older woman whom if I had to guess was aging towards the later part of her forties due to the ‘sparkling’ strands of hair adorning her temples and streaking throughout her red tinted locks gazes at me with her light brown colored eyes.

Carolynn Rogers, on the slightly plump side of ‘healthy’ looked every bit the professional in her purple business suit with the suit jacket unbuttoned to show a cream-colored blouse underneath. A smile slipped across my lips as I looked her over though because all I could see when I gazed back at her was a plum. “Bekah. Focus!” She says, trying to sound stern even though her eyes look upon me with sympathy, empathy, sadness... I’m not sure and I guess it doesn’t really matter. Carolynn has been my therapist here at the Madhouse, I mean Broughton Hospital for the last three and a half years now. Shit, come the 29th of June, when I turn eighteen it’ll be a solid four years. Holy Hell!

The insane asylum, uh, I mean mental hospital, which is located in my hometown of Morganton, North Caroline has been my ‘home sweet home’ since two weeks after I turned 14 when my parents Leah and Mark Shields (no we are not related to that famous model with the same last name), finally could no longer handle my crazy talk. Okay, let me give a bit of background about the first fourteen years of my life.

When I was eighteen months old, I was adopted having been giving to the foster system when I was only three weeks old. The first thing my parents did after being given to them was to take me to a doctor for a physical where they ended up learning I had a heart condition called Atrial Septal Defect. Sounds like a fun time, right? Simplified it just means that I have a hole in my heart. As the older I got the worse the condition became to the point my beating heart would essentially stop. So, by the time I was fourteen, my doctor determined I needed to have a pacemaker implanted.

At first it was strange having some foreign object in my body but once I got used to it, I couldn’t believe I had ever lived without it. Though I guess I really hadn’t been ‘living’. Having the battery gave me energy I never knew I had been lacking! Now of course I can’t imagine life without it. Well, that’s a lie because I know what would have happened had I not gotten it. I’d be dead. Sorry, a bit on the morbid side of thoughts for someone my age but when you have unusual health conditions as a kid, morbid thoughts tend to linger in the depths of your mind or at least my mind anyway.

I digress from the tale I wish to share with you, but I promise the tidbit of information regarding the hole in my heart is a relevant one! If I could prove it, I would say I’ve had the most vivid dreams of my life from the moment I was born but since I am unable to do so, I will say that from the moment I was able to form full sentences I talked to anyone who would listen about my ‘crazy’ dreams. Between the ages thirteen and fourteen is when I began to express the feelings of being watched. Like someone was always in the shadows, watching and waiting for what I’m not sure, me is the logical answer. But why was and is the question. Too bad I’ll never know for sure since I was locked up shortly after a very terrifying incident where I thought someone was breaking into our house and trying to kidnap me.

When my parents couldn’t convince me that there wasn’t anyone lingering in the darkness waiting to steal me in the night and that the dreams I talked about were in fact just dreams, they decided it was best if the state took over caring for me and well, here I am! Shifting my eyes from Carolynn’s to the lined notebook paper in front of me, I let a sigh lose. “How is this supposed to help me realize that the things in my head are dreams and not memories, Mrs. Rogers?” My vision blurs slightly as I continue to stare at the piece of paper. Seeing it but not really ‘seeing’ it.

Tilting her head causing a strand of silvery-red hair to fall lose from her sophisticated bun, Carolynn steeples her fingers and rests her chin upon them as a small smile graces her lips. “Miss Shields, having you write down your thoughts will help to aid in you being able to determine the difference between what is real and what is not. Reality,” she raises her left hand, palm skyward. “Verses imaginary,” she then lifts her right hand, palm skyward making it look like she’s trying to balance something in between her hand. More than likely my crazy verses the real world beyond the sanitized, white-painted brick interior walls of the hospital.

Frustration makes me hunch my back, slump my shoulders and lift the pen so I can continue writing. Knowing I need to prove to everyone that I’m not crazy so that I can leave this prison of sorts behind me in five days’ time is the only reason I focus my attention back towards the paper laid out before me and let freely the words flow.

“Alright, Bekah. Your time is up for today. I will see you again tomorrow,” Carolynn says as she removes the pen from my hand and picks up my writing assignment.

“Same time, same place,” I automatically respond with a smirk on my face. It’s been the same lines uttered between the two of us since the second day I was brought into her office. A smile lights up her eyes though can’t be seen on her face, but I see her give a small shake of her head as she stands and walks me to the wooden door the separates her office from the hospital beyond it. Opening the door, we step into the hallway together where ‘tiny’, a massive dude named Stanley who also happened to be an orderly stood waiting to escort me back to my room stood.

We both greeted each other in a friendly manner because I would like to think we were friends or at least friendly with each other. I mean after three years of this routine of him walking me to the places I need to go, we’ve gotten to know each other. “Hey squirt,” he says with a grin as I say, “hey big man,” at the same time. I’m not a small girl though I’m not extremely tall either. 5’5 I guess I would say is an average height but compared to ‘tiny’ I guess I would be considered small. He is 6’7 after all. We make small talk as he walks me to my room, and I lean against the brick wall as I watch him unlock my door. “See you for dinner,” he tells me as I walk into my room.

Doing a 180, I spin on my heel so I can look at him. Raising my hands I do the finger-gun movement and say with a cheesy smile, “it’s a date!” Making him chuckle as he slowly shuts the door. Stretching my arms I pad across the linoleum flooring in my designer hospital sock-shoes and flop backwards on to my bed. Staring up at the stupid swirly design of the beige painted ceiling I whisper to myself, “just five more days!”