I was in my
pajamas, standing on my bedroom balcony and looking over my backyard, admiring
its tranquil beauty in the moonlight, when I saw the two skunks on my patio. I
wasn’t concerned since they were climbing the fence and appeared to be leaving.
But then—oh
no! I heard the “clack” of the doggie
door and realized that my greyhound, Olivia, wasn’t at my side. I rushed
downstairs, but it was too late.
Olivia had caught
one of the skunks and was tearing into it, chunks of skin and fur flying everywhere,
blood spraying the patio floor and sliding glass door. I managed to drag Olivia
inside when I saw the skunk’s partner re-entering the yard, looking for his
mate. I tried closing the doggie door but the angry skunk was forcing his head
through the door, snarling and trying to bite my bare heels as I used them to
push his head backward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the skunk was joined by two
equally rabid rabbits that were also growling, biting, and shoving their heads
through the doggie door trying to enter my home.
Then the skunk
lifted his tail and a flume of white spray shot out, covering my entire patio
in a putrid veil of white mist like a fog machine at a concert. The foul fog
started creeping through the doggie door, violating my beautiful home, my peaceful
sanctuary. It burned my eyes, my throat, my nostrils, and I realized I’d lost
the battle….
I woke up with a start, gasping for air, my heart pounding like a
jackhammer. The symbolism of the dream did not escape me.
Just a few weeks ago my neighbor had told me about the
excruciating pain she was experiencing from her sciatica. But earlier this day,
when I asked her husband how she was doing, he told me the pain turned out to
be, not her sciatica, but stage 4 breast cancer that had metastasized. She was now under the care of Hope Hospice.
A few days prior I had visited a family member fading away from
inoperable pancreatic cancer. And this Friday marks my beloved mother’s five
year anniversary. She died just three weeks after being diagnosed with ovarian
cancer.
Cancer. Damned fucking cancer. Insidious, invasive, and quietly aggressive, snaking into homes, destroying lives, shattering hearts.
Eventually I fell back into an uneasy sleep. But the malodorous
stench of that dream haunted me for days.

2 comments:
I'm sorry; that's so awful. . . by the way, I actually believed the story until the skunk tried to push his way into your house! YIKES! What a terrible dream. :(
I feel the same way you do about cancer! It doesn't matter if it affects our human or animal family members.
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