The girl beneath the bench : a dream I can't unsee

When the world goes silent and our eyes close, another begins...a world unfiltered, uncensored, and deeply honest. Dreams are not just random visuals... they are the secret diaries of our souls. In the stillness of sleep, the emotions we locked away in our heart find their voice. Regret walks beside us, fear becomes a shadow, and joy paints rainbows and skies. This post isn't just about dreams, it's about the truths we dare not speak, the wounds we try to hide, and the heart's quiet cry for release.

Last night, my mind painted a scene I can't shake off...a dream, or maybe something more. It started in a classroom, familiar yet oddly silent. I was sitting next to my close friend, Jez. We weren't just classmates...we were observers, characters in a dream unraveling quietly, like a thread being pulled from the edge of a sweater.

Across the room, I noticed someone....my past best friend. My best friend from the 5th grade. I don't speak to her anymore because we had no medium to keep ourselves connected. Her face was unclear, as if hidden by a fog of memory. She didn't speak, didn't move. Because she couldn't.

That's when I saw it.

Underneath the last bench, where we usually keep our books, notebooks, and things we've forgotten, was something no one should find. A gift box. Innocent at first glance. But it held her. The girl. Dead. Murdered. Hidden as if her life meant nothing more than a discarded paper.

My body froze, fear clawing at my chest. She had died a week ago... I just knew. Her spirit or memory had led me here. I turned to Jez, heart pounding, and whispered, "" We have to tell someone... We need to escape.""

But she held me back.

"" No,"" she said firmly, her eyes darting to the door. ""It's dangerous. If the police find us near the body, we'll be the suspects. I don't want us to get into trouble, and I won't allow you to tell them either....because I care about you."

I wanted to argue, to scream. But my voice cracked under the weight of guilt and fear. We shouldn't be running. But we did.

The classroom, which was once deserted, suddenly filled with students. And then… policemen.

They were taking a class, or at least pretending to. Uniforms blurred into the background as more people unknowingly sat on the very bench where her body was hidden. It was unbearable. I started crying....desperately. I didn't care if I looked crazy. Someone had to know.

That's when a policeman noticed me.

He walked toward me, concern etched into his face. As if fate had finally handed me a lifeline. And then....he found her. The truth surfaced. He ordered everyone to leave the class.

Then...I woke up.

But not peacefully. I woke up with my heart still racing, my chest tight. The dream stayed with me, not like a nightmare.. but like a memory carved somewhere deep.

Dreams like this are more than just illusions of the night. They carry echoes of things we've buried, emotions we haven't processed, voices we've silenced.

The girl under the bench? Maybe she was a part of me...hidden, silenced, unresolved. Jez, though she's a dear friend in real life, became a voice of fear in the dream....warning me of the price of truth including my safety. And the classroom? Maybe it's the mind....full of old lessons and unspoken stories.

The human mind is a powerful processor, constantly absorbing, storing, and evaluating our daily experiences, even when we are not conscious. Dreams are one of its ways of sorting through emotional overload, internal conflicts, and unspoken thoughts of us. Though we show ourselves and others that we don't care about it outwardly, our mind knows what we truly feel about it just like a sparkly cleaned glass. 

They often reveal what we don't yet fully grasp, connecting the dots between memory, emotion, and imagination. While we may not always remember our dreams, the mind uses them to recharge, reset, and realign us. Understanding this process reminds us that the mind is always working...not just to help us survive, but to help us heal and evolve.

Maybe this dream was telling me that some truths are hard to carry, but harder to bury.

The point I'd like to convey is.. 

When you choose silence over expression, your true self stays unseen... the pain becomes yours alone to bear.

Share your pain when it feels too heavy to carry alone. It's never meaningless to open up....those who receive the gift of your trust can help you heal, grow, and rise. Wake up from the ache, and hold the hand of the one who truly cares. They are not your weakness, but a part of your strength. Some hearts are always ready to reach out, just let them in.

If you've ever had a dream you can't forget, or if you've ever struggled to speak your truth in a world that tells you to stay quiet..... I see you. And maybe, this post was meant for you too.