There’s a black wolf that follows me.
I walk quickly, but precariously. The black wolf follows me.
I am indoors, but surrounded by trees, encased in a labyrinth of glass sliding doors. I locked them all, I am sure of it. I stand motionless as a cold mist settles around me; there’s memories here. I can feel them, I can hear them, I can taste them, but when I turn around they are gone. The night noises are getting louder, the grey night tones are turning silver with the moon. I swear the moon is coming closer. Burring down on me like a cold over-exposed spotlight. I’m not cold; I am calm in my stance. Inside I can feel the wind stirring, there’s a discomfort rustling in my gut like autumn leaves. There is something I am not facing, my subconscious is shaking it’s shackles from the quiet place my conscious chooses to keep it.
Not just with my ears.
The tangled drooping trees brush their low hanging leaves around my face, and then suddenly they are still. The night noises cease. My silvered moonlit hair lags as I turn quickly to see two beaming white eyes glaring at me. The girth of the moons spotlight has widened enough to show me the black wolf breathing a rhythmic puff of steam from its ajar mouth. Neither of us move, just stand staring at each other. The Wolf is neither aggressive nor passive. I become increasingly intimidated, fear starts to irrationalise my behaviour as I tell myself to climb to very top of the closest tree. The wolf is little impressed with my meekness, and stalks my labyrinth of glass sliding doors. I locked them all, I am sure of it. His blackened paws test each door until one slides open with an irritable ease. My conscious is shaking in the fortress that my subconscious has found a way to infiltrate. The wolf keeps a respectful distance as I perch in my tree, I am riddled with fear. The wolf is not there to hurt me, but there to show me. I have no choice but to climb down from the safety of my tree and stand there exposed. I soften to the idea that this is yet another point of growth, the significance of the wolf too powerful to ignore. My subconscious speaks so loudly the things I will not willingly face.
A dark omen, or my own shadow.
I walk quickly, but preciously. The black wolf follows me.