CREATIVE WRITING: ‘The Darkness of Blue' by Luis E. Hernandez

CREATIVE WRITING: ‘The Darkness of Blue' by Luis E. Hernandez

“I can’t remember.” I said to my psychiatrist, Dr. Brown. Dr. Brown then asked me to tell him again why I think I have nightmares. I grabbed the edge of the blue arm rests of my recliner chair and squeezed my anger into it. Then he told me to calm down and I almost lost it. Dr. Brown looked so amazingly stupid with his generic psychiatrist look not excluding the white beard, sweater vest, slacks. He then asked me to tell him about my nightmare again and to add as much detail as possible.

As I looked into his eyes for any sign of compassion he just unnecessarily cleared his throat to indicate his depleting patients with me. So, out of spite I reclined back on my chair and looked at the blue sky collard ceiling. That’s when I thought about how that sky was a fake, but it was so smooth and beautiful. That’s when I stood up and opened the window so the breeze could come in. As I sat back and looked up at the blue sky collard ceiling. I felt that I could at least pretend I was telling this to a friend at the park like a normal person and not to this idiot like some sort of freak.

Then I took a deep breath as I was looking up at the ceiling and said, “Well, the beginning of “the” nightmare started with me sitting in a blue room with a stranger not knowing when I will ever be let free. The stranger accuses me of being crazy not with his eyes or words but with his attentiveness. Then this stranger tells my parents that I’m crazy because I won’t admit that I’m crazy.”

After my little speech Dr. Brown told me that I was being defensive again with a grin on his face. He then said, “Do you remember why you’re here? It’s because you killed your brother with your dad’s gun, but that’s not what made you look crazy. What made you look crazy is that you did it in your sleep. So why don’t you tell me what you dreamed about when you killed your brother again and again and again for all eternity because there is no cure for people like you. Society likes to be told that people like you go to places like this facility to get help, but there is no help. So people like me have to sit here every day and pretend that to care. So if you don’t mind lets go back to our little charade and tell me what you dreamt about at the night of your brother’s murder.”

So I told him, “I’m covered in darkness and I close my eyes to get away from the darkness, but it has the reverse effect and I’m covered in a deeper darkness. Then I close them again into a deeper darkness over and over again.”