Chapter 40 Nightmares of Identity
"Sharon, you’re up again?” Betty’s low voice came as soon as the moonlight spilled through the cracked window, and Sharon’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
"Me neither," Sharon replied, her voice tight from rubbing her eyes. "Same goddamn dream every night—as if I'm in some maze of memories and can't get out of it. And it's not just nightmares; I feel like I'm living another life, one where I was someone… else."
Betty moved in her chair, leaning forward. "What did you see this time, Sharon? Was it that bright field again? Or was it something else—maybe a place you'd never been before?
Sharon's voice dropped to a whisper, "It was a field, all warm and golden, and I was runnin' free, laughin' without a worry, like the weight of the world wasn't on my back. And then, outta no place, I saw my face—my true face, not this broken one—and I heard voices callin' my name. It was all so real, like I was bein' sucked back into a time before… before all the pain.".
Betty's face softened, "Damn, Sharon, that's so beautiful and painful at the same time. You think maybe it is a memory? Or is your mind just messin' with you?
Sharon shook her head slowly. "I don't know, Betty. Some times I wonder if it's not a dream but a glimpse of what I was supposed to be. The way that I felt out there in that field—it wasn't pain or fright. It was like I fit, like I was whole. And then, just when I was startin' to hold out hope, the dream becomes dark again and I'm right back to that cold, confined reality.".
Betty stepped forward, "Maybe there's something to it besides dreams. From the moment you were a kid, you've talked about feelin' different, like there's somethin' about you that you can't recall. Are the dreams maybe tellin' you something about who you are really?
Sharon took slow breaths, "I've been thinking that too. When I dream, I catch glimpses of the life before all the abuse, before being made to feel lesser. I see a girl who ain't afraid, one who laughs without effort, who even smiles when the sun shines. And then I wake up, and it's like a knife into my heart.".
A soft knock interrupted their conversation, and Jessa crept into the room unnoticed. "I couldn't sleep either," she whispered. "Sharon, do you want to talk about it? Sometimes it is a good thing to share, even if it is complicated."
Sharon hesitated, then nodded, "Yeah, maybe I should. It's like every dream reveals another piece of a puzzle I've been tryin' to forget. I see these symbols—like tree scratches, on weathered doors—and I hear a language I almost understand. It's like they're callin' me back to a place I never really knew I'd been.".
Betty cut in, "Symbols? Sounds like more than a pretty picture. Is it connected with your family, where you come from?
Sharon's eyes sparkled with hope and terror. "I've always wondered. There's this feeling in my dreams, like I'm meant for somethin' better. That the abuse and the hurt were just the beginning of a story that was goin' to be something bigger—a redemption of who I was meant to be. I see people wearing crowns and talking about honor, and I hear names that I don't know, like a lost history on the wind.".
Jessa moved in closer, "You're tellin' me you could have a secret heritage? That perhaps your family wasn't all a bunch of misfits, but that someone with a legacy, a fate?
Sharon's laughter was bitter, "It sounds like one of those fairytales, doesn't it? But every time I close my eyes, I see a different me—a me that isn't broken, that isn't bound by abuse. I see a girl who's free, who stands tall in fields of gold, surrounded by voices that tell her she matters. And I can't shake the feeling that those voices belong to my real family, the one that got taken away.".
Betty's voice was genuine, "Maybe those dreams are attempting to tell you that who you are is not what occurred to you. The mind sometimes retains a truth even your waking mind forgets. Maybe it's time you start listening to that part of you, the part that dreams of a life where you are complete.".
Sharon's eyes filled with tears, "It's so damn hard, though. Each evening, when I feel I can almost grasp that identity, the nightmare crashes back, remindin' me of all the pain, all the slurs. I wake up sweatin' and shakin', wonderin' if I'm even worth that kind of life.".
Jessa touched Sharon's shoulder, "Listen, you're more valuable than the pain you've known. And if there's some secret heritage—if those dreams are a doorway to unlockin' the fragments of you that were covered up by abuse—then maybe it's time you start reclaimin' 'em. You deserve to know who you are, beyond what they convinced you."
Sharon looked at Betty and Jessa, her tone soft but growing in resolve, "I'm tired of bein' defined by the scars. Perhaps it's time that I fight back against the darkness in me. I wanna remember the girl that I once was, even if it kills me."
Betty nodded, "That's the spirit, Sharon. It won't be easy, and it might hurt like the worst of it, but every step you take toward rememberin' the truth about yourself is a step away from the pain they tried to give you.".
Sharon sighed deeply, “I keep seein’ these flashes—the taste of sweet summer air, the sound of birds chirpin’ in a field, and then the crash of a storm that shatters it all. It’s like I’m stuck in a loop of beauty and terror. I'm beginnin' to believe that perhaps the terror is tryin' to communicate somethin' to me, too—that my past wasn't so bad, that perhaps the pain was the cost I had to pay to open up who I'm supposed to be.
Jessa spoke softly and encouragingly, "You might be onto somethin', Sharon. Every story has dark pages, but that doesn't indicate the finish cannot be brighter. Perhaps those nightmares are the sparks of an internal rebellion—a beacon to break free from what they made you do and forge something new from the ashes."
Sharon's eyes grew determined, "Yeah, I'm sick of feelin' like a victim in my own story. I want to rise up to the shame and the lies. I want to know what it's like to be proud of who I am again. I'm tired of sleepin' in fear and wonderin' if I'll ever wake up to a life that feels real.".
Betty said firmly, "Then let's figure this out together. We can start by writing down these dreams, all the details you remember. They might seem like disjointed visions now, but if you piece 'em together, you might see a pattern—a map of your true self that's been hidden all along.".
Sharon wiped away a tear, “I’ll do that. I’ll keep a journal by my bed and write down every whisper, every image. Maybe then I’ll see that I’m more than the broken pieces they tried to stick me with.”
Jessa smiled gently, "And don't forget, it's not about forgettin' the past; it's about reclaimin' it. Those nightmares, as cruel as they are, might be the only way to remind you of the strength you had before they tried to take it all from you.".
Sharon's voice grew stronger as she continued, "I had a name I loved, a me that was strong and free. I don't know what I did with her, but these dreams—these nightmares—may be tryin' to bring her back. I'm gonna fight for her. I'm gonna start rememberin' the pieces of me that were buried under years of abuse and misery.".
Betty put in, "That's the way, Sharon. The past is heavy, but it does not have to be your anchor. Let it be the wind that lifts you up and not a weight on your feet.".
Sharon nodded her head, her determination gathering strength with each word, "I'm done allowing the nightmares to control me. It's time I take back what's mine, even if it means facing every deplorable memory face to face. I want to know who I really am—past the pain, past the scars. I want to remember the loveliness of who I really am, who's been locked away for way too long."
Jessa reminded them with a serene pride, "And we will be right there with you, step by step. Your walk back to your self is one you do not have to do alone."
Sharon's eyes sparkled with a mixture of hope and fear when she responded, "Perhaps tonight, when sleep comes again, I will not be afraid of it so much. Perhaps I will be able to look at the dreams as messages and not curses—pointers towards the person I was meant to be.".
Betty squeezed her hand, "Just so, Sharon. Each morning you wake up, remember that the nightmares are only a part of your story. They do not define you—they unveil you. And you are strong enough to rewrite your ending."
The gentle conversation lingered in the air as Sharon lay back on her cot, her mind whirling with recollections and new resolve. "I'm gonna keep fighting," she whispered into the darkness, "not just for the girl I once was, but for the woman I'm supposed to be."
"Sleep easy, then," Betty whispered, "and let your dreams be your guide. When you wake, you'll know you've taken one more step toward reclaiming your identity."
Jessa spoke softly, adding, "Remember, Sharon, that each dream, however dark, holds a spark of truth. Hold onto it, learn from it, and allow it to illuminate your path ahead.