Slipping into my life’s beginnings...

As I strip off my uniform, my body instantly feels a thousand times lighter. I throw my boot camp shirt off onto the ground and a layer of mud crumbles off of as it falls. My arms burn with pain and my hands are covered in intertwined scars and blisters. I go to unlatch my belt, and one of the blisters bursts open and the tingling sensation of the exposed skin makes me grit my teeth. I feel the cold fluid leak onto my palm, and my belt finally comes undone with more fussing than it should've taken. Rhodes is not in our shared dorm at the moment, and I don't know when she will come back. Right now, I don't care. My body aches, pain blooming in a new place with every move I make. Even though I'm just in my undergarments right now, she and I have seen enough of each other that I don't bother going to the bathroom stall to change anymore. I finish changing into my oversized "US ARMY" T-shirt and black shorts, and crawl into my bed that was neatly made this morning for inspections. I feel my body sink into the bed, the cool sheets doing little to ease my pain. My sheets are clean, but I am not. It feels like my body is getting pricked with thousands of little hot needles. The utter exhaustion I feel is hard to describe. Boot camp was one thing, but these past 2 months of Intensive Combat Training have worn down my body in every way. My immune system is weak, my muscles are strained with new limits being tested every day, and my ability to take care of myself has been shaved down to only what is necessary. My clothes are filthy, my skin has a layer of grime on it, and my hair has been matted into a clump from the mixture of constant sweat and gel keeping it in place. I have so many bruises from training and DT that I feel like an abandoned peach being feasted on by birds, left to rot on the ground and slowly wither away oozing fluids and deteriorating.

I lay my head down on the pillow all the way, painfully reaching up behind my head to adjust. Once I am in the position of least discomfort, I close my eyes. I pull the light blanket up to cover my body, and it gives me comfort. I didn't even bother to comb my hair when I took my bun out, but that will have to be a problem for the morning. I sink into sleep, and I feel the weight of my droopy eyelids bring me down into a heavy slumber.

...

When I regain some form of consciousness, something feels different in the air around me. I no longer have complex and intricate thoughts; I simply stare up and see two figures staring down at me. Their mouths open with what looks like excitement as they discover I am awake, and I begin to feel resistance in my legs and arms. This feeling is completely different to only moments ago when my bones and muscles ached from exhaustion, yet I feel a mental link between the two sensations. Then the woman, mom, grabs for me, and suddenly I am lifted through the air until I am swaddled against her chest. Some part of me must know this woman is my mother, and I feel some connection between us. She cradles the back of my head with her massive hand. Well, it felt massive compared to my now weirdly small head. It feels like the warmest embrace I have never felt. It feels like the safest pair of arms in the world that could be wrapped around me. It feels like the sweetest smell as I feel her breath on me when her cheek nuzzles against my head.

The thoughts of my arms and legs being restricted has left me entirely, and all I think about is this woman, my mother, holding me so close to her and the slight bounce in her step and we glide around the room. The walls are light, and sunshine fills the room from an open window I see opposite from where I first started in this surreal place. My mother lays me down in her arms, and now I can see her face. She has something in her hand, and as she brings it to my mouth, I see some form of liquid sloshing around inside. I feel the bottle in my mouth, and suddenly the small sips of milk coming through feel so healing and comforting. I keep drinking slowly but surely, and I stare blankly at this woman in front of me. She has soft brown eyes, with long lashes fanning out around them in a beautiful way. She has freckles dotted across her skin, and her lips part in a wide smile as she looks down at me.

Aren't you just so precious, my sweet Mabelle...

I woke up in my bed, a metallic taste filling my mouth. I reach up, wincing at the pain in my arm, and find my nose caked with blood. I slowly plant my hands at my sides and hoist myself into a sitting position. Blood instantly starts dripping onto my lap.

What the hell... I pondered, quietly.

The memory of the dream rang through my head like loud, obnoxious church bells.

Thought spiraled out of control in my mind, and I struggled to see clearly.

I didn't know what to make of the dream. All of it was completely new, but it somehow felt familiar to me at the same time. I started questioning my whole past. I had never met my mom or dad, never. I grew up in a foster home, too young to know that my parents had abandoned me as an infant.

Was I really dreaming about...my mom?