The Gateway

Who we are and who do we become

My mind had always tried to catch me. It tried to cage and chain me away from reality, to convince me the world inside of my own head is bright and lovely, and I could never be alone there. That my eternal happiness is just a blink away �" all I had to do was close my eyes…and not open them again. The pictures I would see, the music I would hear, the tastes that would melt on my tongue, a voice that could not belong to me whispered, would be ones I would never even dare to imagine. But my imagination had always run high, my dreams had always been vivid. I did not need to go deeper. I did not need to hide. And I did not want to lock myself away. I beg you to believe me, I did not.
 I mentioned my dreams �" I rarely remember the images. Drops of colour, a hair-thin sliver of a landscape, the ever-present epitome of darkness. The things that I remember, though, are feelings �" dread, horror, the feeling of life leaving my body as I try to inhale and scream, and feel my lungs freeze… The strange comfort of knowing he’s there for me, flirting, holding my hand, giving me something small and insignificant, and being happy simply because I am smiling. I never remember his face. He doesn’t exist. There is nobody in real life, who does that. He is just an idea, personification of what I want someone real to be. So he is always faceless. But at that moment, when he is in my dream, I feel warm. And right then, I am truly happy. Not something I feel often in my dreams. Mostly, I dream of darkness and its hounds, always running, always chasing me. Always trying to keep me there.
 And then, one night, it happened.
 At first I did not understand what was different. It was sleep paralysis, I knew it was. I knew it happened, I knew there was nothing I could do about it, I simply had to wait for it to pass. None of the advice I’ve heard about dealing with the night pressing on your chest, stealing your voice and freezing your eyes open, worked. Trust me, I’ve tried them all. And yet, I still tried to fight it. I tried to move, tried to call out. Because I was in my own home, with my parents, and if I just made a noise, they would hear…
 The air filled my lungs almost painfully, my fingers dropped the sheet, my head settled back on the pillow. I was awake. And I was not. I knew, because I could still feel the unnatural darkness on my tongue. I could hear the nightmares, floorboards creaking when nobody was walking on them, the two clocks in the other rooms delicately slowing down, my cat’s nails on the floor when I could feel her sleeping next to my back. The house settling down, my mom would say. To be honest, I never believed her. And I could see them, the dark spots on the wall where no shadow should be, a moving silhouette on my window when we were the only people living there. You know what I am talking about, there is no other feeling as the nightmare.
 But I was awake. I could move. Just to prove it to myself, I got up. And Betty did not even stir. And then I noticed something �" I could not hear the clocks. From my bed, I was supposed to hear two of them, but they were silent. No, the house was silent. The footsteps, the nails and breaths, the shadows and wraiths, all of them were still. Like the time had stopped just for me. So I did the only thing I could �" I walked through the door of my room.
 And froze. The gate in front of me was huge. Elaborate twists and curls, leaves, thorns and ivy, roses and snakes chased each other, caught in an eternal battle for survival in the metal. But no, that was wrong. I never thought about snakes, or… were those rabid dogs ? And, although dramatic, roses had never been my first choice of flowers. Or even the second. I almost smiled then. This was not some symbolic passageway to my fears and insecurities, created from the deep darkness of my mind. This was just something I’ve seen on a picture and now my head was setting the background for the movie. All I had to do was sit back and enjoy the show. Whatever I had dreamt of was just that �" a mirage. I shook my head and glanced back at the gate. And felt my breath catch. There were no snakes, roses or predatory dogs. No, it was worse. Faces. Hundreds of faces. Nothing as vulgar as the beasts from before, no, they were just hints of an eye, the barest idea of a cruel smile, the thought of a scream… Silver lilies, their lovely petals covered in writings. No, the whole gate was covered in words. Like someone had grabbed a pen and written every single name I’ve called myself late at night, when all I could hear was a voice that sounded almost like mine, but not exactly.
 Beyond the gate, a brightly lit path curled around fountains and gardens, a great mansion filled with laughter glowing in the night sky. It was the place I had to go, I needed to be there. If only I could reach it, if only I could open the gate…
  But I could not. It was locked, and the longer I stared at it, the worse the signs on it got. Arches rose like needles, grotesque faces pushed out. A long hand, curled like a claw, sprang from the lock and barely missed my eyes. You don’t belong here, the mouths sang, you should leave. Turn back and never show your face again. The world deserves better.
  And I did. I turned…and almost fell. Almost lost it all because I believed in words that were written by myself. I should have known better. The chasm ahead of me seemed endless. I could barely make out some shapes in the bottom. Humans ? No, they were too… wrong. Their cries echoed through the labyrinth beneath me, but their words got lost before they could reach my ears. Their hands reached for me, bony, twisted limbs, just as useless as everything in them. Children, I realized. All of different ages, all girls. All screaming at me, begging, cursing. Promising retribution and sweet oblivion. But I did not know. I did not know who they were, I did not know what they wanted. I’d never seen them before. All I knew was that I did not want them near me. Because they were coming. Some running, some crawling. The ground beneath their feet was smooth and they were going to catch me. Their words started to make sense. It is your turn now, they laughed, you will join us too. You failed, you were not good enough, so you desired to be different. Now you can achieve it. It is her turn now. Just give her permission.
  I did not know who she was. What I did know was, that I wanted them away. They were a memory I’d forgotten, something I’d tried to erase from my own head. The oldest one had reached the wall on which I stood. Her face… her face was the most well-preserved of all. And it was like looking at an old photo of me. No, not old. Just a few …months old ? It is me. It is … the old me. The person who I was before I promised myself I would try joining a club and finding more friends.
  It all made sense then. All of them were me, from the moment I had first made a choice to be a different person to the last time I did it �" a few months ago. They had stopped and were now just staring at me with empty eyes. Still as dolls, with their heads slightly tilted like baby birds. They weren’t accusing me of anything. They did not hate me. They understood. Every single one of them had been me, had stood at my place and stared at the abyss. Every single one of them had been born out of a promise I’d made to myself. And since they were all down there, every single one of them was a promise to myself that I’d broken. How could they blame me for being weak, when they had done the same ?
 So I turned back to the gate. Behind it stood she. The one who would wake up tomorrow and be me. The one who would be full of hope and happiness, flying on the wings of enthusiasm and delight. Behind the gate, at her feet, were objects. The relics of the promises I’d made. Most of them were so old they were unrecognizable. But some I could still see �" the toy car, the calendar, the sketchbook, the yarn. The newest one she was holding in her hand �" it was a ticket to a dream one of the creatures behind me had created and the rest had fed. And now that dream was about to come true. But I was too tired, too weak, too sad to keep going and reach for that dream. I had to let her try. She reached through the metal gate and I caught her hand. She was warm and I was getting cold. The passageway behind her lit from beneath and the whole house sparkled like diamonds. I kissed her fingers and wished her luck. I wished with all my heart she would succeed. I hoped she would be strong enough to make all the dreams we’ve gathered through the years come true. I wished she would have a bit more fun than me, that she would meet a few more amazing people than me, that she would try a little harder than me.
  I hoped that she would never join us at the bottom of the chasm. I hoped that after she woke up, I would never see her again. Good luck, girl. We are counting on you.