The Forest

A Story by Brennan Garcia

A story I wrote one night after I was told something that made me sad.

“I had that dream, again. Whenever I put on my pajamas, brush my teeth, and get into bed, I feel that dream slowly inching its way into my subconscious mind when I’m trying to sleep. The dream itself is simple but sticks in my mind for some reason. I awake to find myself lying within a clearing in the middle of a forest somewhere. I can’t remember the exact spot, but the surroundings look the same in every dream. As I begin to move my arms and legs, I feel the cold, soft ground supporting me and the biting chill of winter slowly freezing my ears and fingers. It’s calming and terrifying all at the same time. As I open my eyes, I see the leaves of countless trees and their swaying caused by the breeze. It’s dark. Very dark, actually. The thing that gets me the most though, the thing that makes these dreams so odd, is the silence. There is such a silence to this forest. The trees don’t make noise, I can’t even make noise myself. I try to scream for help or for someone to come find me, but I can’t hear anything. I can physically feel myself shouting, but my voice is muted, as are any sounds made by the forest or the creatures within it. When I try to walk past the trees surrounding the clearing, I feel something pulling me back. Almost as if something isn’t wanting me to escape or find help. When I look up at the sky, I can see stars behind the leaves of the trees. In this situation, I continually do the dumbest and most irrational thing imaginable. I reach for the stars. Literally. It seems logical to me though when I’m in the dream. When you’re certain of an impending doom, we turn to the things that perplex us the most. It’s the craziest thing, really. As the silence crowds my mind, I fall to my knees and close my eyes wishing to be released from this hell. Then, as I feel my head starting to bust from frustration, I wake up. To me, this dream represents something in my life. Once you feel trapped by something bigger than yourself, you desperately begin to look for a way out. You go in every direction, but find nothing. You try to speak, but you feel as if your voice can’t be heard. The only way to escape and stop the madness is to accept that there is no escape, and that everything you do won’t contribute to your forlorn attempt. It’s just hopeless.”

As I say this to the man holding the clipboard, he slowly looks behind him at the other doctors and nurses. He flashes a facial expression that I can describe as regretful. He quickly gathers his things, stands up, and leaves the room. I walk to my bed, the only object in my room, and sit on it. I think to myself about what I had just said to the man and conclude that it was the honest truth. Sometimes the truth hurts and I’m not one to sugar-coat it. The sun begins to set and I’m left with a question in my mind. “How can I escape myself?”