I never had proper dreams as a child, no flying beds or falling teeth or showing up to class in just my pants. I only ever dreamt of those amber eyes and the sad boy behind them. My parents called it a recurring nightmare and said I used to wake up screaming about the boy but I don't remember it like that.
All I remember is his hands reaching towards me, all stick-thin and just starting to bloat from all the water between us. His skin was beginning to turn blue-ish grey and his eyes darted about wildly. We never spoke in the dreams, we just floated until I woke up still wet from the water.
I stopped dreaming of the sad boy with the amber eyes when my parents finally told me who he was and what had happened. I never remembered having a brother or that there was a pond near the garden where we used to spend our summers swimming.
Traumatic suppression is what they called it, recurring nightmares where my mind desperately tried to relive his last few moments without remembering the emotions attached to that memory. It all made sense at last and now I wish it didn't.
From what my parents said and what the dream always was, he went swimming without me, without telling anybody. I was the one who found him and spend a good half hour trying to untangle him from the weeds at the bottom of the pond but I was too late - he was already dead.
When they pulled him to the surface they found goldfish eating away at his eyes.
All I remember is his hands reaching towards me, all stick-thin and just starting to bloat from all the water between us. His skin was beginning to turn blue-ish grey and his eyes darted about wildly. We never spoke in the dreams, we just floated until I woke up still wet from the water.
I stopped dreaming of the sad boy with the amber eyes when my parents finally told me who he was and what had happened. I never remembered having a brother or that there was a pond near the garden where we used to spend our summers swimming.
Traumatic suppression is what they called it, recurring nightmares where my mind desperately tried to relive his last few moments without remembering the emotions attached to that memory. It all made sense at last and now I wish it didn't.
From what my parents said and what the dream always was, he went swimming without me, without telling anybody. I was the one who found him and spend a good half hour trying to untangle him from the weeds at the bottom of the pond but I was too late - he was already dead.
When they pulled him to the surface they found goldfish eating away at his eyes.
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