My Worst Fears Come To Me At NightMy dad came back, in his healthy state. No cancer , no sickness. He was alive and well, as the Dad I once knew. He came back for one reason only; to set straight what'd gone wrong since he'd passed away.
My mother's drinking had spiraled out of control. My sister had gone away to live with my brother. And then there was me. I stayed to take care of mom when her new boyfriend left her, because no one else would be there.
I dreamed I woke up with staples in my arms. They were everywhere, and I couldn't get them out. I was mortified. I'd been clean from self-harm for over three months, and after a rough night, I'd harmed myself in my sleep to an extreme that only my dream could create.
I went outside to where my mom and dad were arguing.
He was telling her she needed to stop, that she needed to get better. He told her this isn't how he imagined our lives to be when he'd left.
I showed my dad my arms.
"Why am I doing this to myself?" I sobbed.
"Because you're a mess!" he said.
And then I woke up.
My sister was home.
My mom was still sober.
Her boyfriend was still here.
My brother had texted me.
And my dad was still dead.