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I wanted to open my mouth and say hello to the child, as he was the first I’d ever met, but I couldn’t. Through his window eyes, his soul spoke to me with no words. This little boy was experiencing an inner pain that was as devastating as the one I had just experienced.
With his shoulders rising and falling with every emotion slashing him apart, he stared at me. His mouth hung open as if he struggled to breathe while he began to cry. As pitiful of a sight that he was, he was also a marvel. The tears cascading down his tanned cheeks were glowing blue. A complete contrast from the dark night.
With a gasp of realization, I peered down to see why the leaves were wet. I was standing in a glowing blue sea of… tears.
I can’t explain the connection that took root in the dream, but it was as magical as any dream would ever be for me.
We both just stood there, in the dark, under the tree, staring at each other. It was then that I realized this little boy was unlike the one from the book. He had no intention of ever cutting down the tree. His heart was committed to always protecting it.
With a tightening jaw, he told me, “My mom… she’s gone.”
Astonished, there was an admiration I found for the child who had such a similar circumstance to mine. The instant respect I felt had me crying with and for him. “Mine, too.”
He panted his anguish for a moment, then swore, “I’ll never smile again.”
My shoulders felt so heavy since our pain was… linked.
He was correct. Without our mothers, there was nothing worth smiling for. “Me neither,” I promised.
With a strength far beyond his young years, he gave a curt nod. “Until my heart beats again.”
I sighed, envious he would have the opportunity for such a thing someday. “Until then.”
Then I woke.
Even though I could feel the weight of the blankets on me, my skin broke into a chill. This saddened me because the little boy’s internal storm—brewing force—had been so warm.
Like Mammy.
Now I was to face a frigid world where I knew nothing. I could only sense it wouldn’t give me a reason to smile. At least there was a little boy who was as miserable as me.
Such a sad way to view my horror, but my whole life had been in captivity I didn’t even know existed until the night my mother tried to free me. Dying in the process.
Now my mind was attempting to find a way to cope. To find a way to… survive.
I’m thankful I hadn’t known of options such as suicide back then. Had I taken that way out, I would’ve missed so much…
Longing for the little boy’s warmth, I opened my eyes, wanting to see the tree I had made with my mother. Knowing it would bring me comfort.
I jolted.
It was gone.
All my drawings were. Even the window was gone! All I saw was a stained pale green wall and a brown door to the right of it, and a man asleep in a chair.
I gasped, immediately trying to sit up. In fear of the stranger, I faltered, causing pain in my arm, now enveloped in a white plaster cast.
“It’s okay,” the man, now awake, kept repeating. Slowly getting up from his chair, his hands floated in front of him. “You’re okay.”
His presence, nor words, had me believing anything of the sort.
There was sunlight in this unexpected room, so I dared to peer to my right, hoping for an escape. I saw a window by the bed I had never laid in before.
Immediately, my heart began to thunder. Besides the bathroom visits to bathe or empty toilet buckets, or being in the front yard the night prior, I’d never been out of the room I’d grown up in.
I can’t explain how jarred I was. How terrified I felt now being somewhere else.
To add to my stress, I had a stranger approaching the bed, sharing, “I’m a doctor.”
