Chasing Nightmare

"When they were whispering to me about dreams do come true, they forgot to mention that nightmare were dreams too."

B said to A that the best part of A was her mind and it can bring B travel anywhere by just talking to her. B seldom knew how did A handle all the anxiety and ambiguity that lied behind her clueless incapable sanity.

In other side, A knew that B had it all on his mind too. But B did not take it all at once. He always said that it was better to connect with others than being unknown. One thing he did not realized that he never meant to be to.

One day, A was just tired of having nightmare. She was just tired running in her sleep and howling with idiosyncratic consciousness when she was forced to wake up. She wanted to make it stop but she did not know how. All she did, was praying to something that she did not even wholly believed.

Nightmare was (maybe) the way your other self admonish yourself. Imagine there was two sides of your self that kept yelling each other with the language she can not barely understand. The third part of yourself was just watching from a far, trying to make it stop, and ended up only sit there and crying without tears.

A did not know how that was going to work but she felt it anyway. Nobody want to left behind. Nobody want to be alone. Nobody want to be second choice. Nobody want to be nothing. Was not it? Then why did she choose to be one?

She guessed that getting left behind somehow sounded more relieving than hanging on. Being alone was surely the best way to cure this chattering mind. Second choice could be regarded as a mature decision because she would give the best out of you rather than the first time. And nothingness was a beginning of everything. Suddenly, she felt morose. Not because she putted herself as a victim, it happened because she saw herself through others whom she think understand her but they did not. Why was it so hard to keep faith on people? It was as dejecting as her trial to make this nightmare stop.

"It was hard to wake up from a nightmare if you were not even asleep," A said.

"Was that why you were so afraid to sleep?" B asked.

"Maybe," A replied.

"Everyday was a nightmare that replayed on my head over and over again," B tried to comfort her while looking her empty vessel that illustrated through her empty stare.

"Did you have it too? Nightmare?" A looked interesting with B's statement.

"Sometimes," B answered. He heard A's voice sighing as if she was trying hard to overcome something that B can never understand.

"Sometimes. I love that word, sometimes. It was like a song that I want to make. Sometimes. That word was really beautiful yet outraging. I did not know why I had frequent nightmare even if I prayed to God to make it stop. He did not do anything. Sometimes He helped me when I already begged on my knees or I was crying to sleep," A explained.

"Do not think too much, A. Thinking was the one of your anxiety root," B calmed her down.

"I tried to stop thinking things but I can not. It came worse if I did nothing. I can not handle it. Did you know that I had googled it. I asked it to inanimate object rather to tell my feelings to other people. I typed 'Nightmare Disorder' and it was said that I had extreme level of stress. I can yell in my dreams because I had a high rapid eye movements (REM). Doctor on the website said it is caused from poor-quality of sleep and insomnia. I was trying to sleep more than eight hours but it had no effect on me. They said it was PTSD and it was recommended to take prazosin as a medication," A explained.

"You made it sounded even worse than it actually was, A!" B said in a scream tone. A was standing there, looked at B as if he was starring at a ghost and it scared B of, then A smiled to B. Type of smile that stated that 'You did not get it, you never got it anyway'.

"Maybe you were right, B. I made everything sounded worse. I loved playing victim. I was breathing the air that saddened you, my surrounding, everything. I hate my intution that made me so. I feel like I was dead inside. I was afraid, B. I was just afraid of everything. I was afraid of the word afraid itself. I looked up the meaning of 'afraid' in the dictionary and I found its meaning that was a feeling filled with regret and concern. Did you find it funny, B? That irony of one's word definition. Regrets and concerns are in a one sentence. I feel like definition made a fun of me in a very strange way. Maybe life is supposed to be like that, did not it, B? We were all trying to collect the irony of each memory we receive?" A said with a smile with her face. Shredded smile that made her face more wonderful that morning but still with that empty weasel on her soul that can be looked from those eyes.

B was coming to A. He was hugging her tight and then said: "Like JD Salinger said, you had survived a lot of things, and you would probably survive this. I can not say that you need to survive this or even worse, have to, I quoted Salinger because I know that was ok with the low possibilty to be cured. Probably was ok. You were ok. Everything in you still got me attached. And I was sure that I was ok, seeing you ok," B calmed her down.

A was hugging him back. A was squeezing him hard as if she was going to lose him. A was saying to him in the way a hawk squawking: "You know, of all things I was afraid of, this was the most, hugging you while knowing I can lost you in a blink of eye and the fact that you loved the part of me that I hid. Sadly, that part you found interesting was killing me right know. That was why the nightmare could not stop. You were the part of my anxiety root." 

Time stopped ticking in that moment. At least, they wish it could be happened that way.