There was no way out. I spun in circles, trying to find some way of escape. My world was spinning, falling. There was a dizzying thud on the ground, and I was awake.
I was looking up at my ceiling fan, which was turned off. My face was wet with sweat and tears. My heart was thumping out of my chest. I tried to breathe, and I wiped the perspiration off my face. I got up out of bed. I looked into the mirror. My face was deathly pale and my legs were quivering. I struggled to stay on my feet.
This nightmare has haunted me for many nights now. It is always the same. The clown. The room of mirrors. The shiny silver dagger. The dizziness.
Although this time, I was actually in my room. I ended up in a different area every time, almost as if I had sleep-walked.
I heard my clock ticking. The sound was somewhat comforting. I took ten deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.
“Calm down, Christine. Take a chill pill. It was just a dream. You’ve had the dream before,” I said aloud. I thought back through the dream. Why was it haunting me? Why was it scaring me so much that I cried? Why couldn’t I get rid of it? Am I mentally insane? Do I need to see someone?
Without proper answers to any of the questions, I plopped back down my bed, pulling the covers over my body. Somehow I would need to get to sleep.Not gonna happen,I thought to myself. I thought of discussing this issue with my father. Maybe if I talked to someone, it would solve the problem.No, I decided.Terrible idea.Dad hates me. He yells at me for no reason. He doesn’t like that I like the things I like. If I were to tell him about my dream, he would laugh in my face and yell at me. Then, I would be sent to an insane asylum. No. I am not telling my dad. He literally wouldn’t understand a word of it anyway, especially if he had a drink.
I closed my eyes and tried to get comfortable. Desperately, I tried to make myself fall asleep. I needed sleep. The dream has kept me awake at night for far too long. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the clown. I saw the silver dagger over my head. I felt my life flash before my eyes. I thought I was going to die.
I was unsuccessful in my efforts to sleep. The night was long and quiet. I finally decided to get up out of bed at seven a.m. It wasn’t the ideal time to be up on the weekend, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I crept downstairs, knowing my dad was still asleep. I went to the kitchen and made myself some vanilla bean Starbucks. I noticed the whisky bottle empty on the table. I obviously had awhile to wait until my dad woke up.
I stared down the bottle, knowing I had an even larger problem than my dream. What were you to do, when the one you love has a problem, a dangerous problem, and they refuse your help? I knew the right thing to do was to call Alcoholics Anonymous. For some reason, I listened to him when he denied his problem, almost believed it even. I contemplated what to do. I decided to talk to him about his problem again.