'The Same Nightmare' by Fu'ad Lawal

As always, he remembered it in bits when he woke up. Bloodied hands. Dusty shoes. He couldn’t see his neck but he knew it had been darkened by the sun.

As always, he looked up in the dream. An endless sea of green with white specks.

As always, the image became sharper. But always, it didn’t look real. Always like an oil painting.

As always, he would then see it more clearly. The green were leaves. The white, cotton. The endless sea. The endless sea of cotton. The endless cotton field.

He didn’t know what one looked like, in real life that is. But he had painted a picture in his head. A masterpiece. He didn’t know what those fields looked like, but his grandfather had helped him. Etched the vivid image in his mind.

“Never forget,” his grandpa always said on those nights he told them those scary stories of the cotton fields. He heard that voice every night he dreamt this.

“…Because if you do, you’d never see the new cotton fields.”

As always, that was when he woke up. Every time.

Fuad Lawalis a poet and copy writer. He blogs at rebelliousflash300.wordpress.com. Follow him on Instagram/Twitter @rebelliousXIV

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