In the picture it was night, with the moon fighting to break through the clouds, and two black dragons illuminated in its white light. “Dragons.” I looked at my therapist. “They aren’t real. At least, that’s what everyone says.”
She didn’t say anything, instead using her silence to urge me to say what I actually thought.
“What if they’re not physical?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if we can’t see them, can’t touch them, can’t shoot them with our guns, can’t take pictures of them. And despite all that, what if they’re still real.”
“What do you mean?”
“What if they’re like demons, angels, spirits, or ghosts?” I scratched my chin. “What if they are real, but live in other dimensions, or don’t have physical forms, so we can’t prove they exist?”
“Do you believe in demons and dragons?”
“Not really. But I think they are good names for the parts of ourselves that haunt us. The voices in our heads. The nightmares in our sleep. The dark thoughts, the anger, the rage, we all have.”
“But what do you think of those parts of ourselves?”
“Those are real. I think we all have them.” I took a deep breath, “My father told me, the last time I visited him before he died, that there was darkness in me. That it was part of me.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we’re both black dragons and white knights. Darkness and light. Maybe in some of us, darkness wins.”
247 Words
@mysoulstears
It’s Week 532 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the stories in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up every week.
My Soul's Tears 