©2009 Evan Hawkins. familiar Echo's All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-1912-6 (sc)ISBN 978-1-4389-7488-0 (hc)
Echoing Soul
Echo had felt as if she did not exist until after the age of seven ... She did not realize that her psyche had suppressed her tormented early childhood memories. The memories that were so intolerable that it was best that she did not remember. She blossomed while holding deeply buried secrets in a garden that she did not know she possessed. Given the strength to grow into a beautiful wildflower as she suppressed dormant yet taunting feelings of scattered and fragmented memories. Those scattered fragments of memory sprouting as pretty pink roses with prickly thorns in a well maintained garden with bluish green dewy grass. She had a great deal of space to grow into a happy healthy young woman. She was a strong, defiant, tenacious adolescent and young adult. She was also sweet, kind and loving. She possessed a spirit that would heal wounds--she only needed to step outside of her (garden) comfort zone and into reality. A spacious reality with rolling hills and valleys .
Echo had the reputation of someone that knew how to roll with life-she was an adult who had unconsciously learned how to tuck away intolerable memories; the memories that would rage as a war inside of her soul;memories that would surely mutilate her spirit and and distract her muse. Recalling that much emotional pain would surely insult her mind and injure her soul. She did not prepare (or did she?) for the pain that was suppressed--tucked away and hidden from the light; she didn't consciously entertain thoughts of despair. However, there was always little hints of something ... but what? There were dreams, which became more intense as she aged; these dreams were undefined but the dreams always seem to represent something.
Life spent in an illusion of standing tall on top of the hill looking out at the horizon will one day turn into the reality that life below in the valley is full of dips and curves. As the winds of change began to blow tornado's in her life--the secrets were ripped away from their safe place and spilled out into her life. How will she survive her reality? Did the secrets kill the person known as Echo? What would have been the cost of experiencing the pain as it was dealt? What will be the cost of finding out later;during the stormy seasons of her life??
There was a quiet serenity in the apartment—when she was in this peaceful place; she’d normally curl up somewhere comfortable in the apartment. Similar to the way the family cat leisurely curls up in a comfortable place. She’d close her eyes; began to meditate—inhaling through her nose, exhaling through her mouth until she’d find herself in a sacred place and quietly speak to God. Not today she was too agitated; she rubbed the apartment chill off of her arms; she still felt strange. Echo’s disturbing dream this morning stayed fresh in her mind. She hesitated calling it a nightmare since the dream occurred in the early morning; shortly before she willed herself to wake up and escape the events that continued to frighten her. The dream felt distressingly real even now that she was awake. Echo was troubled about how the dream had a disturbing feel of reality. She needed to understand what this dream meant. Echo hadn’t been this anxious about a vision for a very long time. Echo always trusted her sub-conscious: although she was afraid of it as she aged; as her conscious self became increasingly over-protective, defensive and almost always uncomfortably masked. Echo thought that her slaved-sister-ancestors passed down this safe mode—take care of how we show any emotions. She always believed that certain dreams had deeper meanings—she’d had odd visions before. Echo even had recurring dreams about strange things, that scared her but she could keep moving forward. However, this current dream had her going nostalgic; had her feeling apprehensive—back tracking things on automatic pilot. One of her recurring dreams was that she was stranded on a beautiful island; surrounded by exquisite tropical greenish-blue deep water; she was very scared because the island was only large enough for Echo to stand and stretch out her arms by her side. If she dared to look down into the water it became a pool of darkness; her heart rate would rise and she would swiftly divert her gaze; whenever she continued to look outward the greenish blue water was mesmerizing breathtaking. As a young girl Echo was taught to swim Echo suddenly, sometime after the birth of this particular reoccurring dream, become afraid of pools of water. It was difficult to simply walk past a swimming pool. She also found it difficult to submerge her head; sometime later in life she was able to enjoy water from the above shower head. Maybe it wasn’t “Echo” who had challenged the lake learning how to swim one year while away at camp—those memories are scattered and fragmented; she was away at camp for three weeks and she could only remember a week of the adventure. Much later in life—after Echo had served so many lifetimes of pain she finally “Got” the dream … if she looked down into the water it became a dark sinister pool of water--probably waiting to engulf her into whatever that abyss represented.
However, if she kept her head up and stayed present facing the future (clear, serene, salient water). She’d liberate herself from whatever obsessed, oppressed, and restricted her from moving forward without fear—stopping her from looking down—peering into that darkness of whatever haunted her. She was accustom to her dreams picking up on her insecurities; there were times when she was afraid to sleep—a fear of something that she’d denied earlier or in her distant past revealing itself to her. Dramatic Echo described emotional events as a storm. She would become anxious with twisted thoughts; until her drama storm blew raging winds and blinding rain which translated into awful, terrifying and confusing dreams. At times the “Storms” only exposed the restless, lingering, resentment towards something that she’d chosen to deny. This current dream caused waves of despair that were rising and falling with the rage of an imminent storm—Although Echo enjoyed watching storms, on vacation at any beach view suite; stormy weather was just as pleasurable as sunny days. On the other hand, these emotional waves of despair weren’t pleasant they were more terrifying because more often than not they came with dreadful outcomes; the “Storm,” was a warning of pending personal anguish; this was one of the worst dreams that she’d experienced. Echo wondered if she’d find out the many difficult answers to her silent questions. Yes, she’d had always had bad dreams, some times these dreams were simply, bought on by stress, avoidance, or anxiety; they were discussed, applied and for the most part forgotten.
Echo wasn’t always able to remember her dreams; for instance the pleasant dreams, but the prophetic dreams, were dreams unlike those that aren’t anything more than sleepy-time entertainment—dreams that needed to be analyzed. The dreams that signal an oncoming tragedy (storm); Echo’s older sister, Emmy would usually help her to untangle the jumbled meanings of her odd dreams. This type of dream that sent Echo spiraling with her mind constantly on rewind; this particular dream would reveal a life altering situation, one which would affect her for as long as she lived. Echo could talk to her sister about confusing dreams. Her sister would tell Echo secrets that she’d already knew, been apart of or was sure that she’d heard before; and Echo chose to store the memory so deep that she’d forget. Echo had reserved this closeness for Emmy as an authority; as a mother figure and didn’t feel a friendship bond with her sister until they were both adults. Emari felt that Echo was capricious; looking for a mountain to climb, stand up and jump off the cliff screaming and giggling with joy. Emmy would arrange for Echo to land in a soft place. Echo’s sister had been elevated to more than a sister for most of their lives.
