The nightmare continues

Since it wasn't the first time I dreamed of it I was left more uneasy the whole day. Akita noticed and mentioned it, I told him about my dream expecting him to ridicule my concern. He took it very seriously however, and questioned me about the slightest details. At the end of the class he was still with a serious face looking at me and considering all my description.

-``It seems quite clear to me.''

-`` It does?'' - I was puzzled.

-``Yes. Very much so.'' - He looked at the board ahead of us, his chin high and his face severe. - ``It's clearly a demonstration of your need to be accepted by your father and to trust him with his own temper.'' - He laughed as though he was calling daddy's little girl out as a silly little girl.

This interpretation conquest of my inner daemons and the conclusion of my immature inferiority was as sweat as candy to him. He was beyond himself the whole evening, sharing it with my Dark Knight, who joined him in the general mockery. I wasn't convinced of the validity of his deductions, but I couldn't determine the accurate reasoning if there was any. I knew nevertheless that they were enjoying far more my annoyance to their comments than actually my daddy issues.

Later in gym class I was wishing to have hunting classes with my prey, or even speed training with the batmen, but we ended up having polo classes with the whalemen. At least it wasn't hand to hand combat with the catmen to train flexibility. We all hated the fact that we had to train with other families on their own ground, though we had no ground of our own and the trainer insisted that it was the best for our training and worst for the others who had it easy.

We made teams, as usual I was together with Akita, who enjoyed being close enough to not let escape any fault of mine without the proper laugh. Groups of seven wolfmen and five whalemen. Not because we were more, but to give us a fighting chance, a slight slim chance. They were bright and organized too, it wasn't only the fact that their tails gave them incredible propulsion from and speed in water. We had to beat them with schemes and complex plays, which was not the strongest area of the ravaging pack. Still with the passing of time we started to be able to interpret better and better our fellow players. A palette of increasingly tuned smells, hairy expressions and body movement and something else allowed us to read each other, specially because the pack was always the same.

Once in water my body relaxed, my feet moved instinctively, my arms joined them, which I ``must control in order to be able to use them for the game. That is the whole point of the exercise. Your instinct is to swim like dogs, which you are not!'' - my trainers words echoed in my memory, triggered by the water and due to the repeating of the sentence in question.

Our Pale bulldog rolled in a ball and jumped from the border of the pool, his knees collected to his chin and his arms around his legs. When his body found water a wave was created and felt along the pool. His fluffy cheeks curved with a dimple and his fur expanded on his hairy skin, on his bold round head, surrounding his cheerful dark brown eyes. He smiled at me and swimmed strong long strokes to the goal. He was not really heavy, but the roundest so he owned it as our human teddy bear.

Our Spikes reached the pool and looked around to find the trainers checking another swiming pool to the right and their backs to us. His swiming shorts dropped to his knees, shinning his behind at the whaleman prepared and focused. His bottom covered in fur, a coating that rose form the moment he reached for his shorts and was kept while he brought them up again. With a back flip he entered the water feet first and grinning at me and our Pale bulldog.

A pale white foot stepped down towards water. Then he slowly and painfully sat on the pool side. His teeth clenched and his hands bent to the water, touching it he bathed his arms one by one and then splashed some water on his legs and on his chest. He then rose and moved his foot forward to the water and left his weight drop in an unsupported step. The Retriever dived deep, touched the bottom of the pool and propelled up complaining about the water's temperature. He joined Spikes on the opposite side of the goal, ahead of Pale Bulldog, in fast smooth strokes. He was our pacific friend, nothing ever got him angry. It was hard to believe a dog lived within.

Akita joined us in a bomb jump, also curving his arms around his legs and disappointed when he emerged by the unimpressive wave.

-``No point in doing that after our bulldog.'' - I said looking into the fat smile in our Bulldog's face.

Together these musketeers had more fun than study, more intuition for pranks than for maths and were by far the biggest hearts among the wolfmen, except for me and Akita who I couldn't fairly judge.

Spikes, who had a huge need to show his behind, started dating my prey in the beginning of the year. The four of them knew each other from the year before and were repeating the first year. Neither of them focused much attention on the classes, also though together the trio was a tight pack their individual self-esteem gave them no courage to tackle maths. She was the opposite of him and was constantly criticizing, which made them a good couple, because she needed so much to complain and feel serious in comparison as he needed someone to keep him the least in check. The deal was a trio, because they were inseparable.

The fact that I cared dearly for these guys allowed me to pay better attention to their actions and to predict their ideas. Akita was a sharp wolf and could react fast and our Bulldog was a great goal-keeper since he occupied most of the goal and reacted to an offence with strong singular movements. Spikes was very intuitive and imaginative and Retriever was so used to him that he could even predict his movements and interpret them perfectly. Me and Akita were not so good in aqua polo, but we managed to keep the whalemen away from the goal in average.

In retrospective the exercise is always revealing efficient in releasing my build up stress and team work was great to disperse problems. Still, at night I was revisited again. There was a dreadful pain in this picture I kept opening the kitchen door to: My usually giddy mother in hysterical cries, or mute sobs; My nervous father lost in his own impotent revolt with his face buried in his shaking hands; and these strangers invading this spring sunny morning like the inevitable ironic sun rays trespassing the windows glass.

But the denouement was ever changing. This time I grabbed the damned envelope that flouted proudly under my nose and dropped it on the table with a vicious hatred. Had it been other than paper the table would have broken. I reached for my mothers shoulders and ignored the rude intruders. I held her distantly, awaiting for an invitation to join her at the table, to sit next to her and comfort her up close. I looked at my father whose soft despaired look conveyed his will to have done has I was doing, to be able to lift her spirit just a little. It was clear that his furious convolutions were controlled by his hopelessness by the hair of a witch.

-``I love you both'' - never found its strength out my throat, my tongue twisted and dry with the weight of the situation, which I couldn't fully grasp. What came out instead was a half sound - ``Why?''

Indifferent to these three men who brought this immense misery to my house, I just invited them politely but firmly - ``Please leave, if there is nothing else you need.''

I felt my mothers shoulders stiffened. My father's took comfort in my words as though they promised a fast ending to the tragedy.

``Good morning to both of you, I will be expecting your visit.'' - The coat guy waited for a reply with a grin, convinced his words would have some effect and once he was convinced they weren't he lost his smile called upon his two supporters and left through the back (kitchen) door.

My mother faced my father and grabbed his fallen hands that stood nervously on the table. He gained his typical strength and calm, thanking her, holding here shabby eyes in a long warm gaze. I looked at the envelope- which I was sure was to blame on this atmosphere- with mixed feelings. On the one hand it held the answers to what was the meaning of all this and on the other hand it was to blame for making my mother cry.

It wasn't for another week, when again this dream tormented my sleep, that my curiosity bite my hate and I was able to pay attention to the envelope, open it and release its formal content. The details changed from dream to dream, keeping the guide lines. Still, for as much as I would like, the words that showed on this heavy beige paper sheet were basically the same. I was to report to duty next week to defend our rights and way of life as therianthropes; also I was to server all connections with humans for the time being. My dream ended before I could ask my father what the meaning of this was. And considering that this could have something to do with what I heard the other day at the tomb stone, I didn't ask, not to dad, nor to my trainer. Nor did I mention anything anymore to Akita or my dark knight, who both grew impatient as a function of the dark circles forming around my eyes.