I beg myself to open my eyes. But my dream will not stop. I've opened a Pandora's box of fears that I had buried long ago. If I were to describe the feeling I have buried I would call it weightlessness, you seem like a feather. Floating on the tugs of the wind, not knowing where you'll go or when you'll fall. I have banished most of those memories, and they don't return. Most of the time. But there is this one aspect I cannot get out of my head. In that room, there was an icon of mary. Looking down on the cruelty that was done to me and i asked myself time and time again why god and all that is holy permitten this. But this icon would take me down a road so I didn't have to be in that room. She would be the only saviour, she would be the only reason I had survived. I remember one time I had booked an apartment for a holiday and that same icon was on the wall. The road of peace was shattered, i was in that room. I could not breathe, I could not move all I could do was float on the wind. And now that same icon is the only thing I see when I close my eyes. 

I finally open my eyes. The weight of the world is resting on my chest. Preventing me from breathing. My dog walks up to me and it feels like something dislodges and I can breathe again. I wipe the tears from my eyes and run to the toilet to release this stress pent up in my body. 

My tear fall on the cold bathroom floor as my throat aches from the acidity from the contents of my stomach. The only thing this is missing to reflect that old bathroom is the drops of blood disturbing the awful white floors. 

How could an icon be distressing. How could something that should five hope take it all away?