When I was a little boy, I had a recurring nightmare. It was of a lion. In the dream, I would scream out, terrified of the lion because it had come to kill me. My mother and father would regularly have to wake me from the dream, because in my hysteria I would get close to injuring myself or other things about the room. I could never remember the dream. In fact, I never had any recollections of the night terrors at all. It worried my parents. It wasn’t until years later that anyone ever actually sat down and talked with me about it.
By this time the night terrors had stopped. I was maybe 12 or so. My mother and I were in the kitchen discussing dreams and nightmares, while she made a cake.
“Do you have nightmares still mom?”
“Yes Castor, I do. Not very often, but they do happen. What made you ask that?”
“Well I had one last night.”
“Oh really? What was it about.”
“It was about this lion. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it, stalking me in the darkness. It was going to kill me.”
My mother stopped mixing the batter and turned around from her half interested position. She put the bowl down, came to the table and sat across from me now making direct eye contact.
“A lion?” she half whispered.
“Ya. A lion. I could feel its breath on me and hear its low growls. I would try to run from it, but the faster I went, the closer it seemed to get. I would cry out for help, but there was no one else. It was only me and the lion.”
I could tell by her face that this story had upset her. Her face was drawn and sullen. There was a somewhat haunted look in her eye as she patted my hand in hers. Something about the nightmare had gotten to her, and it surprised me. There was a story to be told and I waited for her to speak.
“Castor,” she began slowly inhaling, “when you were a very very little boy, you had a lot of nightmares. Night terrors actually. They, too were about lions. Well, just one actually. Always the same. Always coming to get you. You would scream out ‘don’t kill me, don’t kill me’ and your father and I would run into your room scared to death what might be happening to you. But you were always in a dream. It terrified me.”
This historical account scared me. Over the years, I buried the memory of that story and my mothers face in the kitchen. Something about it terrified me to my very core. Like one of those things you couldn’t place or explain but knew was terribly significant to your life, it lingered somewhere in the depths of my psyche.
But life went on as usual. I grew up. I graduated high school in 2004 and went on to college in Laramie, Wyoming. I came out of the closet somewhere in undergrad and fell madly in love with my first love, and then madly out of it when I moved to Phoenix for graduate school. I traveled the world, earned successes and accolades, made hundreds of friends, and life was essentially good. The nightmare of the lion had disappeared from my mind.
In 2010, things changed. It was October, the time for fall and Halloween; ghosts and nightmares. I had returned to Laramie, just for one day. It was a work trip. In my down time, I resorted to the past time of Grindr. For most, the app was a way to kill time or get laid. It was sometimes that for me as well. Deeper within me though, Grindr was a tool I was using to try and fill a void in me that was painfully apparent, and had been for the many years before and after my first love.
On that day, on that app, and in that season, I met Leo Thompson. We agreed to meet for drinks that afternoon. Nerves usually weren’t an issue. I had done this plenty of times before. But this time something deep within me stirred a forgotten anxiety. I couldn’t explain it. Something was different. He was different.
At the bar I waited nervously. When Leo did arrive, the air changed. From out of the bright white light a boy appeared, tall and handsome with dark features and a wicked charm. In that moment, I was prey for the slaughter. Things went well. We hit it off great, and agreed to meet later that night. When I returned, he welcomed me in and took me down to his apartment. It was empty and cold, but my attraction to him warmed me. We talked, and watched movies till early in the morning. I did not leave until the next day.
Leo and I saw each other for a short while, until I went to New York for a vacation. While there he broke things off with me. I should have left it alone, but I could not. Something within me would not let him go. When I came home, I asked if he wanted to get together again. He agreed, with surprising enthusiasm. Unfortunately this pattern of off again on again lasted for quite some time. He was still in love with his ex, and while he couldn’t let him go, he couldn’t let me go either.
Most people would have dropped Leo instantly for the way he was; inconsistent, unreliable, untrustworthy, and unfaithful. All of the people in my life closest to me warned I should do the same. But they did not know. They could not see the way he looked at me in the sweet silence. They could not know the way we talked to each other, or the way we held each other. They could not feel the love that passed between us in an awkward dizzy twirl. And I could not let it go. I was stuck to him and knew I would never love anyone as deeply and passionately as I did Leo.
Over Christmas and New Years of 2011/2012, I went to Africa for another vacation. While there I went on Safari to see the wild beasts of Ngorongoron Crater. There were elephants and cheetas and hippo and zebra…and there were lions. I was the first to spot him, even before our guide. It was instant. The beast was walking into a densely packed area when I caught it. Before it disappeared, the lion turned and made eye contact with me. I froze. Time and space stopped. The slow motion of Hollywood movies became real, and for that instant something beyond the creature and myself. It conjured not amazement or pride or awe. It instead drudged fear and anxiety and a single awful memory. Remembering the dream I screamed “LION.” When everyone else finally found my point of gaze, they saw only the tail of the beast as it disappeared into the trees.
Later on that day, a tribe of Massai warriors visited our jeep selling handmade wares for souvenirs. Being typical, I had not completed my list of gifts to bring home. I wanted something special for Leo, and when I could not decide because nothing felt right a young boy approached me.
“You saw the lion?” he inquired. I wondered how he knew, as everyone else seemed busy buying their own souvenirs. Assuming someone had told him, I thought little more of it.
“Yes, I did.” I replied. From out of the jewelry hanging on his arm, the boy pulled out something close to his elbow at the end of the line. It looked different than the others, solid yellow with orange detail in the hand carved wood details.
“This is for you then.” He handed me the necklace of black string with the beautiful ornate pendant. It was the image of a prowling growling lion.
Soon after, I became very ill. Something had taken over my body and I could not escape bed for at least three days. Deciding the trip was too long and stressful, I returned home to Wyoming early to spend the New Year with Leo. As the clock struck midnight, we kissed and disappeared from the world to make a resolution together in feather downed darkness. Afterwards, I rolled out of the bed and to the dresser where I retrieved a small wrapped box. Bringing it over to him, I held it for a moment, shivers running up my spine.
“This is for you Leo. Happy Late Christmas.”
“Awe. What is it?” Leo asked curiously.
“Open it.” I whispered, looking deep into his brown eyes. He tore the wrapping and opened the cheap box pulling out the lion necklace into the moonlight. Leo held it up and fondled its carved detail. As he admired it, I told him the story of the lion from the crater and the Massai boy. As I did he put it on, and for a second I could not breathe. I assumed it was the wine, and my deep love for him at that very moment.
“It’s beautiful Castor. I love it.” He smiled charmingly putting it about his neck and bare chest. ”You know its funny. I’ve always loved lions. They are kind of a spirit animal of mine.”
This caught me off guard somehow, and my smile disappeared to concerned interest.
“Really?”
“Ya. In fact, I have wanted a tattoo of a lion for quite some time. This actually is the best rendition of one I’ve seen that I’d want put on my body. Maybe it’s what I’ll use.”
I forced a smile. Not that his admition wasn’t sweet and alluring. Something about the revelation, as simple and innocent as it was, dripped with warning in my ears. ”Be wary,” it whispered. Even my guardian angel now seemed concerned of Leo. But every time he smiled, as he did now, I forgot about the world and everyone else, and was blissfully happy.
Over the next few months, Leo and I had troubles. His ex had again reappeared, and we were on again off again. Everyone begged for me to leave him, to let him go. I couldn’t though. And I wouldn’t. I wanted to be with him forever. He filled the ache in me that had been within my chest all throughout my childhood and young adult life. I truly and unconditionally loved him. It seemed so pure, and so heaven sent I could not turn it away. I began to notice however, when he would and would not wear the necklace. He always wore it when he was trying to get back into my good graces, and then when he would have me charmed, it would disappear from my sight for days. At one point, during a separation phase, I took the necklace back. There were nights when I wanted to throw it into a lake, or burn it in a ritual fire to cleanse the now seemingly evil spirits that had come to ruin my life. I never did. Sometimes I still wonder if I should have.
In January of this unlucky year, Leo told me he was leaving. He had graduated college and wanted to move to L.A. to pursue his dreams and fortunes. I was not to be a part of the picture. When he told me this, something happened within me. The strings around my heart snapped. My mind grew dark and sad. But for the last few weeks we had together I hid the pain as best I could. I wanted our last moments to be happy and memorable. And many of them were. Even so, as the final day drew closer, I became more and more withdrawn from life. Despair and depression chained me in the moments I was not around him, knowing he would soon be gone forever. It was like my lungs were no longer filling with air. With the last remaining days, I felt those lungs would take their last remaining breaths and then my heart would beat no more.
The night before Leo left, he stayed with me. It was surreal. I tried to save every moment in my heart, not my head. My hands memorized his body and his hair. My eyes memorized his. My ears memorized his words and my nose his smell. My lips memorized his kiss and every other part of him. When dreaded and unwelcome sleep did eventually come to end our time together, I dreamed. I was in Ngorongoron Crater. It was dark and I could see nothing. There were no animals, no stars, and no moon. Behind me I hear the low growl of the lion and I was afraid. The night terror had returned, but this time would make itself visible. It walked around from behind into the darkness before me. I could hear it panting, licking its lips like a feline angel of death. It stood there, gazing at me, and I waited for the final kill. But then the stars and moon lit the sky and the ground before me. The Lion was gone. In its place stood Leo. He wore the Lion necklace.
I felt both passion and horror. I wanted him to run. I wanted him to run with me, where we could be safe from the monster sent to assuredly kill us both. I breathed into the void for him to run, to hide with me. Leo only smiled. His eyes locked on mine, steadily, greedily, hungrily. And I was afraid. Leo took the few graceful steps between us and placed his hand on my chest. I could not move, or breath. I could only watch as he went for my heart. As he reached in and pulled it from my chest, i could only cry as he put it to his mouth and sunk his lion fangs into its bloody fleshy meat.
The next day came and Leo’s time to leave me had come. I did not speak of the dream or the necklace. He wore it then, wanting it as a talisman as he drove into the west. I did not argue. As he packed his bags into his car and hugged me one last time, I cried. Uncontrollable tears flew from me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to die. But none of those things were to happen right then. They would happen later. As we said our last goodbyes I continued to cry. He did not.
I have not seen Leo since, and am unsure if I ever will again. The tears still came, as did the screams and the running. I ran from everything after that. My job. My friends. My home. My life. Nothing matters to me now that he is gone. I realize now that this had been my fate all along. Since my night terrors all those years ago, I had known the lion would come for me. There was no escaping it. There would be no running. The lion had now killed me and the dream was over. Some would say this is dramatic and the night terrors were only Freudian symbols of subconscious fears. But the lion has indeed come. He has taken my heart from my chest. Leo is the lion come and gone, and my heart sits broken with me now dead on the floor.
