I miss my dreams of flying
It took awhile for me to learn to fly. At first, I'd run, and jump, and hover. But soon, I progressed to gliding over everyone and everything around me. But I would always come down after a few moments of peace.
As I grew older and my dreams grew bigger, I was finally able to take to the skies at will. I was able to be one with the world above for as often and as long as I wanted.
My powers of flight became the powers of a hero. I'd spend my nights battling vampires, zombies and people. They didn't scare me. They couldn't touch me.
Sometimes, I would even have wings.
But since I was first hurt, my dreams of flight have not returned. Now it's variations of the things that have happened to me. Now I am helpless. Now I am always rooted to the ground. Now, I wake up in fear and tears. Never the elation that I once knew.
Last night, I dreamed I was running through a town in nothing but a pair of jeans. No one was chasing me, but I had to get away from where I was hurt.
People saw me and I did my best to cover my breast as I rushed past them. They scoffed and jeered that I would be so lewd to run around naked.
I tried to tell them that someone hurt me. That all I could find were my pants. But nothing came out of my mouth.
I found the store were my friend works. I tried to talk to him but nothing came out. He took me to the back room and left me there. Then he returned with a friend. They took pictures of me. Moved my hands away so I couldn't cover myself, so I curled up and covered my face. I told them no. My voice sounded like a child.
When his friend left, my friend propped me up against the wall and took off my pants. He f*cked me.
I didn't say anything.
When he was done, I grabbed my pants and ran. He chased me and called for me. He yelled that he was sorry.
I took to the forest this time so no one would see me naked. I tripped, I fell and then I woke up.