So, there I was, strolling calmly along a gravel path in “normal” dreamlike fashion, nothing out-of-the-ordinary worth noting. It was a generally nice day with a few clouds scattering the sky. I remember seeing a sign previously, but not what it said, just that it was naming an area where a road would end in this beautiful place just across the border of Arkansas into Missouri. A very large oak tree stood just in front of me, with a line of barbwire fencing going off to the right and a small, grassy valley tucked into the woods beyond. More woods lined the left side of the path as it curved slightly around this oak tree.

As I started to come around the tree, I saw a single blue-green Croc lying in the path. An eyebrow raised in curiosity, I slowed. A second one (it’s match) appeared just behind it, turned haphazardly on it’s side. My breathing started to quicken and a tiny bit of alarm started up in my head. I took another slow and careful step, and a supine body came into full view. My heart did a single, loud thump as my eyes scanned, noting the red and black gym shorts and white, ribbed tank top on this skinny young male. Mid-step, I saw that the tank top had some blood on it and my breath hitched immediately. When my gaze reached the boy’s face, I recognized it and the short, dirty-blonde hair as belonging to the 10 year-old version of my son…

BAM! My eyes flew open and I was immediately in a panic attack, breathing rapidly, heart pounding out of my chest. I tried desperately to breathe through the panic and tears, to no avail. This eventually woke The Boyfriend up. He reached a hand out to rub my hip and asked if I was ok. I most certainly was not, but all I could do was whimper pitifully as I rolled into his arms. I took solace in his embrace for a bit, but eventually extricated myself… there was NO way I was going back to sleep after that shite. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing that gruesome image.

I’ve had over an hour to calm down (pfft) from being brutally awoken by one of the worst nightmares I think I’ve ever had in my entire life. I’ve had some doozies that have woken me up to tears streaming down my face from deep sadness, but never anything as horrendous as that! Jesus Tits!

And at 4:17am?! Uuuggghhh… That was a SOLID ride on the Nope Train to Fuckthatville.

What in the ever-living fuck was my brain trying to process with that nonsense?! I’m pretty big on the psychological symbology of dreams, being a whore for all that, but omfg. Is my fear about The Son’s well-being and my motherly role slowly being lost that bad?! FFS, dude. I don’t need a shock to my system like that.

Stupid feckin brain!