Sarah’s Saint – III

My dreams are troubled lately. There is no comfort or rest to be had for a weary soul who walks with nightmares instead of dreams. When I wake, I find the nightmares are real. The boogeyman is alive and well, and walking through the world disguised as a man. Sometimes, a woman. He exists in the shadows with long skinny arms that end in gnarled fingers and razor-sharp teeth on the inside, but on the outside he looks the same as you and I. He delights in tormenting and confusing the innocent. Worse yet, he is not alone. He has friends. All monsters, disguised as ordinary people. Each one bringing harm to the innocent, while snickering when they see themselves making headlines.

I shouldn’t be surprised to find myself sitting on the beach, toes in the sand, but I am. The sun is just beginning to kiss the horizon. I pull the blanket tighter around me and close my eyes, letting the mist of salt water caress my skin. Here, at least, there is comfort. Here, I can think my thoughts and unravel my confusion…most days.

Suddenly, she is sitting beside me, saying nothing. I look over at her and then turn back to watch the sunrise. For a long while, neither of us says anything. We just sit and watch the first miracle of the day. Thinking our thoughts, and not saying a word.

Finally, she finally breaks the silence. “It’s such a simple thing, yet so beautiful. Many people miss it. You usually sleep through it.”

I laugh. I’m known for being a night owl. People know not to call until sometime close to noon, or they will find me asleep. It’s not that I sleep for twelve hours. I don’t. I haven’t in quite a long time. It’s lucky for me to get eight hours these days. “I prefer watching the sunset, and dancing with the moon and stars most days,” I reply.

“Not today though.”

She doesn’t say anything else. I’m pretty sure she knows.

“The nightmares are getting worse,” she whispers. “I’ve seen them all. It’s quite disturbing at times.”

That one caught me off guard. She is always peaceful and calm, like still water reflecting the earth back at herself. “I didn’t think you got disturbed by anything.”

“I don’t. I’m at peace. There is nothing that can change my state of grace. It was given by God. I’m just saying, your nightmares are disturbing. They neither surprise me, nor disturb me. He knows you are getting closer, so he is trying to pull you away.”

I look down at the rosary in my hand. I carry it more often now. If I’m being honest, I’ve never carried it in my hand, only in a purse to have close to me. I used to feel weird walking around, as if people would judge. Now, I don’t care what people think. It brings me comfort, and that is enough.

We sit quietly. She waiting for me to respond to her statement, and I still pondering the words. I know the ‘he’ that she refers to. The enemy. Finally, I turn, and look into those every changing eyes of hers. It’s like looking into a galaxy of its own making, as colours swirl and sparkle. “Why would he care about me? I’m just one person in a sea of many.”

“Because you are shining brighter these days. You are drawing closer to God and that makes him scared. His response to his own fear is to create doubt, worry, and fear in you.”

“Hence the nightmares. They don’t even make sense. Not all of them, anyway.” Some are too close to home to even talk about, but even this she knows. It doesn’t need conversation. My sorrow runs deep enough at times that it becomes a second skin, visible to those who truly know me.

“Yes.” She turns to face me, but pauses. Her head cocks as if listening to something that isn’t there.

For the first time since I met her, she touches my arm. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think she would be able to physically touch me, no matter how real she appears to be. That single touch holds a thousand hugs. Warm, like the summer sun’s embrace. It’s full of love, laughter, and joy, rippling throughout my entire being.

She is smiling at my thoughts. The smile doesn’t last long. She becomes serious, and turns back to me, “If you are thinking about the nightmares, then you aren’t thinking about God. In this way, he succeeds, if only for a little.”

“So I should stop thinking about them? That isn’t as easy as it sounds. They are…disturbing, as you said.”

“If you don’t want him to get his grip on you, yes. There is a way to stop the nightmares.”

The wind suddenly tugs the hood from my head. It’s as if a blast of ice was thrown in my direction. My arms immediately cover in goosebumps – not the good kind.

“Stop that. You aren’t welcome here. Leave.” She says it forcefully without even raising her voice. For the first time, there is a hint of anger in her voice. The wind swirls, throwing sand in our direction. I shield my eyes as sharp, minuscule daggers prick my skin.

“So you think you can command the wind now? Just who do you think you are? You are not the creator. The wind is his to command. Leave this place.”

I don’t ask who she was talking to. I know. I don’t like knowing, but I do. The wind dies down. I raise my eyebrows as if they can ask the question I keep wanting to know. Who are you? This is her third visit. I know she can read my thoughts. I need not speak if I don’t want to.

Shrugging, she laughs. “All in good time. Her tone becomes serious. What’s more important is the fact that he would send one of his minions up here to try to dissuade me from talking to you. It shows just how important you are. You need to protect yourself, even when you are sleeping. If you do this, the nightmares will stop. He cannot walk where God stands. Never forget this.”

“How?” It was a simple question for a difficult problem. What does one do to protect themselves from an invisible enemy invading their dreams?

“Talk to God. Ask him to wrap you in a protective shield of light when sleeping so that the enemy cannot enter. Believe it can be done. There is no room for doubt when it comes to what God can do for you.”

Storm clouds appear again out of nowhere. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself to keep it from flying away. Suddenly, a funnel cloud appears, heading straight for us. For the first time, I saw something other than peace in those eyes of my visitor. I saw anger. “You cannot win. No matter who you send. She is claimed already.”

As if it had fingers, the funnel reached down, attempting to swallow her up and fling her into space. She disappeared before it touched her, but not before turning back and yelling, “Sarah, remember, protect yourself.”

I bolted awake as the next round of thunder clapped overhead. The room lit up as lightning streaked across the sky. Back in my room, I tried to steady my breath. Everything was getting more intense. Even my peaceful spot on the beach no longer seemed safe.

She said my name. Another first. Too many firsts for one dream. These moments feel too real to be considered a dream. Something else to ponder.

“Remember,” came the soft whisper of a friend.

But, what? What was I supposed to remember? Another clap of thunder followed by lightning. Shadows dance on the wall, but here they do not scare me. They are images that bring comfort in this space. A statue of Mary, a cross, a hanging rosary. All signs of the one who loves me most. The storm outside is picking up. It’s as if it jumped out of my dream into reality and the one controlling it is angrier, if that is even possible.

I looked down at my white knuckles wrapped around my rosary. When did I pick that up? No matter. It was one of the few things besides prayer that brought me peace these days. Gently, I unwrapped the beads and placed them on my bedside table. Already I could tell sleep was on its return journey, pulling my head down to the plushness of the pillow. My eyelids begin to sag. I pull up the blankets as the next clap of thunder shakes the house.

“Lord, ease my troubled mind and release me from these nightmares. This I ask of you today. Help me to remember what it is that I’ve seemed to have forgotten upon waking, and watch over me as I sleep.”

Finally, in the early hours of morning, sleep, peaceful and sound comes. After weeks of nightmares. Upon waking I feel rested. I feel like myself for the first time in a long while, yet there is something hanging in the air. Something I was supposed to remember, but what?

If you are enjoying Sarah’s Saint, you may like other short faith stories which you can find on the Faith Stories link of Leslie’s website.