Page 29 - The Houseguest

NIGHTMARES
Sleeping had never been an issue for me. Before meeting Karina, I followed evening routines that would include sipping on a warm cognac or perhaps a hot whirlpool bath followed by retiring to my silken sheets with their dark chocolate hues. After Karina entered my life, I would easily slip off into a deep slumber after our lovemaking, without the need to adhere to my cognac or whirlpool routines.
The first time we were together, I’d had little experience in maintaining a meaningful, lasting relationship. Thus, at the time I didn’t fully appreciate the significance, to her at least, of the afterward embrace. Having been duly chastised, I learned my lesson and also soon learned to relish the experience of holding her in my arms, the nape of her neck fitting comfortably across my upper arm, her long hair strewn over my chest. It was as if we were anatomically created to please one another. But such a peaceful sleep escaped me now. My body stopped yearning for the rejuvenation of nightly respites about one month after the nightmares began, which began about one month after the accident. I remember the first dream well. Although, to call it a “dream” gives the horror too much respect. The introduction of my nocturnal terrors began with a hazy vision of my little Katie, alone, walking towards me singing her familiar chant: “I love, love, love my daddy,” though it wasn’t her voice, nor her lips mouthing the song, because her lips had been gashed open and a deep red blood poured through them. The smile that used to send a warm feeling throughout my soul was now a curvature of her face filled with ragged broken teeth. She wore her favorite light blue dress with yellow flowers, but the pale blue was
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life