Dick Hollaran once told Danny Torrance that what you see are like pictures in a book. They can’t hurt you, or at least he didn’t think it could. I have lived through situations that have become nightmares before. I never thought that I would have to see one of my nightmares turn into reality.
Agnes took Eliza and I to a Martyrs Day concert (same day as the kill). The music and people were fun. I danced with one of Agnes’ friend’s children and Jenna’s host “brother” Jimmy. When we got tired of dancing Eliza and I sat down and the kids played with our hair. Every once and a while the cheers of the crowd, that sounded like the one I had heard to alert the boda drivers of the robbery, sent shivers down my spine.
At around 12 we finally convinced Agnes to take us home. We were tired, worn down, and we needed to sleep. Agnes linked arms with Eliza who linked arms with me, and we ploughed our way through the crowd. I didn’t think that my nerves could take much more excitement. But as with many things the universe added one more supprise to unravel me.
Just outside the exit my eye caught the eye of a woman. I could see her in the spotlight. She resembled Gollum from lord of the rings. Her knees bulged from under her long neon green hospital looking dress as she crouched holding on in desperation to what looked like to be a blanket. The mere glimpse indicated that she wanted something from me. I assumed that would be money, but the following moments made me unsure.
I looked away as fast as my eyes could move. I needed to keep pace with Agnes. I have never been happier to have strong arms and a strong grip than right then. The women reached her arm up out of the darkness to hit mine. It came down with force on top of mine like she tried to break the bond I had with Eliza. I startled and jumped back, but held on. The woman then sprang up and began to yell at me in Lugandan and wave her blanket in her fist.
I could see her more clearly. She looked like one of the charactiers who haunted my dreams when I was little. Though she was not a man and had dark skin and no hair instead of ashen skin and stringy hair she looked enough like him. She had sharp facial features that were pronounced by the lack of food she received. Her eyes shone brightly against the black of her skin, and the darkness of the road. Even her dress was a similar costume. Her dress went down to her feet and hung over her emaciated body, much like the trench coat of the character in my nightmear. Leaving the direct light muted the vibrancy of the green giving it a darker look making it more convincing.
Eliza pulled me closer to move away from the women. Jimmy yelled something else as I looked away. “Come,” Agnes said. “She is mad.” I thought that would be the end of it, but she continued to follow us down the street, and shouted the whole way. Jimmy chased her away again. I breathed a bit easier. Once Jimmy and Jenna departed we walked back towards the concert where the bodas waited for customers like a bike gang outside a biker bar. We could see the women crouched in the dark by one of the parked semi-trucks on the side of the road.
Eliza and I walked to the other side of Agnes; the three of us still holding hands. As we passed, like the second time I had my nightmare, I refused to look. And like my nightmare I could feel the eyes stare at me as I passed. Then came the footsteps. They moved at an accelerated pace. Someone behind us was running. She was running. Eliza turned to see and with a start pulled me for a few steps as she tried to run away. I couldn’t control my quriosity and turned back to see her arms flailing dress flapping as she got closer. Agnes held Eliza back (I was on the end Eliza in the middle). “Uh uh. Don’t run.” Agnes yelled at her, but she was almost just beside me. We arrived at the bodas just in time. There was more yelling as some of the men shooed her away. I could feel the tears start to build. It took the last bits of energy to control myself and prevent the tears. I felt afraid. The women had triggered some primal subconscious part of my brain, and I could not control it. As soon as we climbed onto the boda tears started to flow. I did not sob, but they spilled out. The wind dried those tears that weren’t soaked up by Eliza’s shirt.
When I locked my door to my room the tears came for a minuet, but exhaustion and purpose took over. It was around 1:00 AM. I had experienced so much that day that I needed to write it down. As I sat to write I saw The Shinning on my floor. I laughed. The blood earlier had set me on edge. It reminded me of the blood in the presidential sweet in the story. The women though, she reminded me of the women in room 217. She had jumped out of nightmares to hurt Danny. I had gotten away safe, but the woman’s arm on my unsettled me. She jumped out and into real life.
I am unsure of what to think about this. I know I should reflect on how society treats “mad” people, and my own thoughts about them. That is what ISL would say to do. And it does raise these questions, and I will ponder them. But, this literally hit too close to home, and if she stays out of my nightmares I’ll be content.
