Constance Persephone

Fever dreams are my favorite, they can be so unhinged. A close second would be dreams I have when I’m…relaxed. While this short-story was not a dream, it was definitely inspired by it.

A bit of backstory since this short story isn’t fully polished. When I say “I” this is referring to myself and the other person is a literary portrayal of Merlin, who offers us deep wisdom and asks us to be introspective. I figured he would make a great therapist or be a therapist’s worst nightmare.

I hope you enjoy the read and if this is well received, I may post more stories about therapy sessions with Merlin as we unpack the dark crevices in my mind.

“Why do you think you are?” they asked, their voice raspy with age and sorrow. 

“I’m here because, I…needed to talk to someone” I was unsure of what to say, so I went with a watered down version of a somewhat truthful response. 

“Wrong. What you need to do is listen.” They huffed but there was no sense of true annoyance. As if this was for show, simply moving the plot along. 

“I’m sorry?” The cold grip of anxiety had its hands around my stomach again, twisting it a little. 

“You really aren’t. It’s just what you tell everyone, including yourself.” They pointed at me with their pen and set down their clipboard. The anxiety stayed wrapped around my insides while her cousin, Anger, put its hands on my shoulders and shook my body back and forth. 

Oh let him have it! It whispered in my ear, like it always did. 

“There! That’s it!” They yelled looking over my shoulder and pointing sharply. I turned my head to look over my shoulder but it was still the same office. 

When I turned back to him he was looking at me hopefully, like I could finally solve the riddle that I haven’t even heard. I stared at him, trying to remain as calm as I could. My body shook with energy waiting to be released as either a fit of yelling or a breakdown in my own bathroom. Since I make it a point to be non confrontational I’ll wait till I have time to myself. 

“My word, you can’t even bring yourself to talk to me. I’m not even real and yet you are still so afraid. I’m made up! I’m a character in your head and you can’t even defend yourself in your own story!” he yelled at me, the shock and disbelief painted on his face. 

The words choked me, like they always did. It was one of my biggest weaknesses that was always used against me. I’m not sure where it came from but I’m sure it’s a byproduct of childhood trauma. I’m sure it also helped my opponents immensely. 

Do you know how easy it is to yell at someone who can’t defend themselves back? Painfully. 

My system was frazzled, overwhelmed, and vastly overworked. There are the times I wish I could be authentic with my emotions and portray what I was actually feeling. Perhaps then, people would take the hint to leave me the hell alone because there is already so much going on. 

Tears filled my eyes like they always do. I turned my head to the side to look away from him and tried to breathe as evenly as possible. But it was shaky at best and burned like I huffed ammonia. 

“Why do you think you are?” he asked again but this time I heard and understood what he said. 

Why do you think you are? Why do you think you are? What kind of question is that? Why do you think you are?

“I–” He shushed me in a way that one would hush a small dog. With open hands he motioned for me to breathe deeply and slowly. Calmly. 

“Take a moment and think before you answer. I don’t want to hear ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I was born’ or anything of nonsense. M’kay?”  

He seemed satisfied when I nodded my head, albeit slowly and leaned back in his chair crossing his arms over his stomach. 

“M’kay. So why do you think you are here?” he smiled and then laughed at my expression that I’m sure said ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me?’

“Sorry, just a bit of humor. Maybe later, heh?” I stared at him blankly, my body still buzzing. 

“Back to it then. Why do you think you are?” 

I took another deep breath, closing my eyes to the walls that surrounded me. This time my breath was cooling, almost as if I was outside during early fall. 

“I am” I started wholly unsure of myself. I looked at him and he seemed very invested in my answer. He motioned for me to continue.

“I am. I think I am. I don’t understand the question. Could you rephrase it? Please?” I held his gaze as I asked him. My insides were shaking again, specifically my spine. Like someone was running a drum stick along each vertebrae. 

There was a glimmer in his eye that made no sense to me, but I got the feeling that while I didn’t answer the question, I also didn’t get it wrong. 

“I can. But first you must tell me what you think the question is asking.” he propositioned. It seemed fair, and made sense for the setting. 

“Sure. To me ‘why do you think you are?’ is asking me to look within, and see if I know why I am myself. Why am I me and not you? Why am I the person I am, but in a lot of different aspects. Almost too many. So many that If I tried to answer all of it, I would need a few lifetimes.” 

He nodded slowly, with that same glimmer in his eyes. 

“Do you want to know those answers?” he asked. 

“I did at one point. But not anymore, not really.” 

“And why not?” he leaned in closer. 

It was my turn to laugh. “Because it’s not going to help me much. I’ve already spent so long asking why and crying about it. There’s a few questions that I would like to know ‘the why?’ but I don’t want to stay stuck there anymore.” I’m tired of cages. 

“Hmm. If you were me, what question would you ask instead? Or maybe what would you like for me to ask you instead?” he stroked his beard with mirth in his voice. 

I shrugged my shoulders and slumped back on to the couch. I looked off to the side again thinking of how to answer his riddles.

“I’m not sure, If I’m being honest with you. I’m not you and I don’t want to be in your chair. Not anymore. I just want to be me and move forward. I’m tired of crying and feeling so alone and so empty all the time. I wanna be the girl that I dream of. The one who smiles and laughs because I love to do that and I wanna be the girl who reminds someone that it’s going to be okay because I talked to them and maybe gave them a compliment, a real one. I want to be the girl who reminds people that they have so much power inside them. I just want to be… happy.” I trailed off. 

“You’re having a realization aren’t you” he leaned forward even more and whispered. 

I nodded a bit my inner cheek as so many thoughts flooded my brain. Of all the things I wanted to do and be, there were actually no thoughts of my appearance, which usually tend to be the biggest source of my grievances. 

“Huh,” I muttered to myself. 

“You are perfect, child” he smiled. “You are exactly where you need to be, and in time you will see that you are going to become…yourself.” 

“And I assume, that on the way to becoming who I am, I’ll find the people who are meant to be in my life and vice versa?” 

“Precisly as the stars have told me” he held his hands up and gazed lovingly at the ceiling. 

I looked up to see that the off beige ceiling was now covered by a sea of stars floating amongst the deepest night sky. They swirled around the room dancing to a song I wished I could hear.

“It’s going to be okay?” I asked aloud, still gazing at the stars, tears filled my eyes. 

“You are going to be okay.” He clarified, continuing to watch the stars with me.