One of Those Nights by Susan L.

  I know dreams are an expression of thoughts and feelings hidden below the conscious mind.  Often my dreams come with a sensible story line, in full colour and ignited senses right down to touch and smell. Last night was one of these movies. Even when I emerged into semi-wakefulness, struggling to break free of what was unfolding, I fell back into the dream.
  I was travelling with a much older couple in a large camper van. I was young, in my teens or thereabout. My reason for being there was to help them out and have a bit of a vacation. It was fun in the beginning with ample opportunities to do camping stuff.
  Part of the dream had me paddling a rather flimsy canoe. It was tricky finding my way amongst the rocks. The bottom of the boat frequently scraped the rocky shores of the shallow lake I was on. I kept having to get out to push the canoe over a particularly shallow area and had a difficult time getting back in. It began filling with water. The paddle had a habit of floating away or getting broken which meant going into stores along the shore to purchase a new one.
  These struggles were in stark contrast to the pristine waters, the sun and the sky. The fresh scent of pines drifted past on the breeze.
  When I returned the canoe to the rental place, even though it had been a rather unpleasant experience, I laughed it off and tossed the comment over my shoulder as I walked away, "I gotta get an inflatable kayak!"
  I remember looking at maps as the next destination was planned. It was different than when I had originally signed up for the trip. I was being forced to go to some obscure town in the states when the plan had been to head to the north. (This was the trip I had been given permission to take.) I panicked because I hadn't brought my passport and mentioned going home to get it first.
  That wasn't allowed so the trip headed into some off-the-beaten-track location in the far,far north well away from any sort of civilization. Well away from what I'd signed up for.
  That's when I started getting scared.
  That's when things started to get really ugly.
  The dream ended because the phone rang, startling me awake and I had to get up. I am so incredibly thankful because there was only one reason for being kidnapped.
  I can still smell the musty odor of the old stores. They were dark and shadowy with creaky, wooden floors and racks of camping stuff covered with dust. I felt embarrassed that I couldn't hang on to the paddle but it was so much work simply manoeuvering the canoe, it was easy to drop it. I remember wondering why paddles didn't come with a loop to put over the wrist.
  I never saw the faces of the people in the van but while looking at the map, the fresh aroma of coffee filled the air. The map was covered with coffee rings, the creases worn in places. I could see and feel the flannel shirt of the man as he pointed out possible destinations, uncomfortably close to me. His aftershave was overpowering. The woman was chattering in the background all ersatz nicey nice. It felt phoney.
  So. I feel incredibly vulnerable this morning. It was all so real.
  I can understand where some of the dream came from. It fits with my mental health challenges and my frustration about being so powerless when flashbacks rear their ugly heads. I can understand, too, being forced to take a route not wanted and again, being powerless to change it. The rest I could have done without.
  Lord, I lift this to You. Please, wash it away so it doesn't haunt me. In Jesus' name I pray
  "For You have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living." Ps 116:8-9