Pages (185-187)
AUTOMATIC LETTER 123
Saturday night
Hi,
Cold! In Gloria’s dream tonight it was cold, cold all the way to the center of the earth – there’s a little girl in this dream and she’s watching a man with anger twisting his face – he’s cursing a little girl with braids, grabbing her, hitting her and there’s a storm coming, trees are snapping like glass beneath the wind – like her with the braids – she wasn’t strong enough – if he kept it up she would break and the pieces would be scattered all over the rocks – she’s running – scrambling her breath like a knife in her side, the storm is chasing her now – she’s found a shelter behind a huge rock and she’s thinking about trying to find someone – anyone who would understand what it was like to be scared every second of every day, to be scared to fight or not to fight and not to show it, to face each day knowing that it probably wouldn’t be better than yesterday and often would be worse. She knew what it was like to feel naked and helpless, hating yourself, feeling that everything you did made the snarl worse, not better – she was angry and disgusted with herself even if she was just a little girl – other little girls weren’t weak and hateful and they knew how to take care of their own person – then there he was, he’d found her and her throat screamed before she could stop it and he was chasing her, catching her, yanking her backwards while rocks like fists struck her and she screamed again but she was lifted high, helpless, nothing beneath her feet and she was falling – the feeling of falling didn’t stop as memory and nightmare and reality surrounded her –
I awoke her and she tried to shake off the residue of another bad dream.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 124
Wednesday night
Dear Port in Many Storms,
Sleep came quickly tonight. So did dreams – dreams twisted into nightmares.
When Gloria sleeps she’s like a frightened child – she’s either running from someone or is trapped by someone. In this dream she was an adult though – in one dream she was cold – too cold but there was no warmth, only fear, leaving her weak. She tried to scream but no sound came – she tried to run but her feet weighed as much as big rocks deeply rooted into the earth.
She had to try harder to move or she’d never get to you before the “Other” did.
She was broken and bleeding, screaming finally, reaching, and stumbling but she had to get to you. The “Other” was laughing and the sound was colder than frigid wind. He said, “You didn’t know about Gloria’s amnesia – the nightmares that lapped over into nights triggered by a word – did you know that she was afraid of going crazy?”
Even in the dream Gloria was sure if she could reach you first you’d be a lifeline capable of pulling her beyond the reach of whatever terror stalked her. She had survived the deaths of many, now she was trying to survive a different kind of death – a shattering loss of belief in herself, in her own strength, her own mind. Now she was trying to ask herself if it was worth it, any of it, if there was no end to fear and loss and deaths. Then she remembered how you had survived also and how strong you were – it showed in your movements, in your laughter, in the clean male lines of your face – she wasn’t terrified of you like with others and yet you were strong in mind and body – you moved with the easy strength that always fascinated Gloria yet your voice was gentle and your hands were – beautiful – an odd way to describe anything so strong and quick as a man’s hands yet that is the word – not all hands had affected Gloria like that – sometimes she saw hands and terror was in her. But I’m getting away from the dream here (you’re not often in our dreams). I was telling you how Gloria was trying to reach you first before the “Other” so he wouldn’t be able to convince you that she was losing her mind and imagining the real fear and the pain and terror of death he gave her – but no matter how she tried she couldn’t get to you and when she woke up she was so happy it was just a dream.
Gloria’s Helper
AUTOMATIC LETTER 125
Sunday night
Hi again,
I have started this twice now and I can’t seem to write to make any sense – Gloria’s fingers keep cramping up. In our dream tonight what started out as a beautiful walk in the woods ended up in terror – unspeakable terror – it had taken a little girl too long to face the truth, she was living with a maniac. She was running and got to her bedroom where she crouched in a corner her body trembling waiting for death – she knew she must not let herself scream or be found or the “Other” would return and kill her – it’s like a sponge, erasing the past and making up the future – all those crazy dreams. The “Other” had been following us in the woods when he went into a rage because we stopped to pick some wild flowers – he had been telling us that he was a man with no background but he had imagination and intelligence but he said in the image in his mind he was successful and polished – by this time he was in a rage and saw us picking the flowers – after this the whole dream doesn’t make sense except for the little girl crouching in the bedroom so sure he was going to kill her – not much help tonight.
Gloria’s Helper
