Butterflies & Nightmares
When I was young, sometime between 4-6, I had, as my mother recalls, one of the most terrifying nightmares of my life. It was summertime in Sheridan, Wyoming meaning the daytime was most likely hot, sunny and a great day for a young boy to be playing outside. Most likely, I was in fact playing outside-- rambling around my yard, throwing a ball around in the grass, exploring the hidden areas underneath pines and inside of bushes and having the sort of summer day that is only afforded to young boys. At the end of the day I would come inside the brick house, sit at the oak table for dinner, peruse flickering images of baseball on the television, and finally go to sleep.
I woke up with a twinge of unsettling that made me decide to stand by my parents bedside and ruffle their blankets with the palm of my little hand. My mom who (if viewing the bed from the foot) slept on the left, woke up first. She shifted out of the sleep and transformed into a motherly figure full of concern and worry. I told her I had woken up and couldn't go back to bed. She suggested I move out of my room, hot and stuffy with no air conditioning, into our living room and lay out on the grey speckled carpet in my Aladin sleeping bag.
In mere minutes I drifted back into the land of sleep so easily entered by children and I began to dream. I played out in our yard, rambling around the grass and exploring the depths and dens of the pines and bushes. After tiring I quit the foliage caverns and reentered the yard, spacious, green, and cut short with a spring smell. I looked around searching for something to capture my interest. High up in the sky a small speck fluttered. Yellows, blacks, and whites all mixed together in an intricate pattern that was mirrored from one wing across to the other. The butterfly came down, pushing through the air like a swimmer in a calm pool, taking quick, short strokes. I held out my hand and soon the insect had alighted on its rook. I looked it over, admiring the slow expansion and retraction of the patterned wings, each flap pushing small quantities of air across the knuckles of my hand.
After examining the creature for a short while I suddenly became aware of the shadow around my body. I started at this phenomena; I had only stood in shadows when close to trees, buildings, and other tall objects, which, in the middle of my yard, had none close around. I swiveled my head around searching for the cause of the cloud. Above my head, hovering in a yellow, black, and white mass, was a collective flurry of butterflies, swirling around as if angry food in a blender. The butterflies quickly descended and covered my body, crawling around on my arms and neck with prickly steps, clogging the air around my nose and mouth, tangling their insect bodies into my hair, and folding their wings over my eyes, darkening my eyes.
I woke screaming "butterflies! Butterflies!" My mother finally ran out and convinced me that I was, in fact, quite bare of any abhorred insect. She questioned me if I had eaten anything around the household, possibly divulged in the liquids under the sink. I stood too scared to answer in a moment of arrest at the covering of my body in so many butterflies.
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