Sunken Statues

== Sunken Statues==

I had a recurring dream many times when I was a child. Perhaps to this day it explains why I’m afraid of water? I can’t be 100% positive of that, but when a dream recurs to you so many times between the ages of three and fifteen; you can’t help but begin to think it means something. It might sound corny or hokey to some people, but it’s something that seriously bothered me for a large portion of my life. Now onto the dream; it’s been many years, so I might not recall it all so perfectly.

In this dream, I was walking on a beaten path in the forest with two little boys. I’m pretty sure in this dream, I was their nanny or something of the like. They looked a lot like people I met in the future, but I’m aware that nothing bad has happened to them to this day, but anyhow… The two boys were leading me down this path, telling me there was a beautiful lake and they wanted to go swimming. “Alright, guys, but you know I can’t swim,” I responded. “It’s okay! We can teach you!” The younger one exclaimed excitedly. “It’s okay. I’ll just watch.” I politely declined. Seeing the lake come into view, the younger boy stripped off his shirt and dove in. I had a feeling of dread overcome me for a moment and I wasn’t quite sure why. “What’s the matter Miss C?” (I’ll refer to myself as “Miss C” in this story for the sake of simplicity and not revealing my identity.) The boy clearly saw color drain out of my face. “Nothing, I’m just worried about your brother.” “Do you want me to go check on him?” I was about to tell him not to, but the boy dove in before I could speak against it.

I watched and watched. The younger of the two was swimming around the water’s surface without a care in the world, and then he dove under. I checked my watch. They’d been under there for far too long, but I didn’t see any bubbles or any other signs of drowning. Maybe this was just a trick? Maybe there was a passageway or something that was beneath the water that I couldn’t see? Nonetheless, I wasn’t about to leave without them. Despite the fact I couldn’t swim, I jumped into the lake.

Something wasn’t right. I was struggling, hardly able to keep myself afloat by doggy paddling. I hated being in the water. My foot brushed against something cold. It felt like a stone. Was that a hand? No, it was far too stiff. Perhaps it was a statue that someone dumped into the lake? But soon, I realized I couldn’t kick my feet around, my legs refused to move and they grew unbearably heavy. I began to panic, and in that panic, I could hardly even doggy paddle anymore, instead, my arms flailing helplessly. And then the weight of my legs began to cause me to sink. As I gasped for breath and started to drift beneath the surface of the water, I saw both boys, turned to stone, mouths agape in terror, now frozen that way for eternity. It wasn’t only them, there were several others petrified in the same manner. Looking down to my legs, I realized I was meeting the same fate. I was turning to stone, unable to warn anyone about what that lake could do to them.

At this point, I always woke up. I hated this dream, and I always thought it was trying to tell me something, but to this day, I’m still terrified of water, and every time I see a realistic statue of a child, I can’t help but stare at it, wondering if such a lake exists somewhere.