Recurring.

I had the same recurring nightmare until my late thirties. All I ever remembered was not being able to breath. Until the last time.

It started as just feelings and sensations. Warmth and love, layered with sadness and...wet. She is sobbing. Just seconds old, I can sense the pain. It devours the joy of my birth and renders me silent. I am set aside. I stay quiet and wait.

Mother dies.

The stench of death permeates the air. New life takes a back seat to this tragedy. Grief drives that night as Father covers my face with one calloused hand and circles my neck with three fingers of the other. He pushes hard. I don't fight to breathe. My 22 month old sister cries. Father starts, releases his grip and stares through me for a minute or an hour. He retreats, sobbing.

Grandmother bundles me up. Sister, too. She drops us on a doorstep. The door opens to the smell of life. Yet I still sense pain. So many babies. Loud, crying for attention. I am silent. Waiting. My sister hits me. I deserve it.

My therapist says it could be a memory.

I never had the dream again.