When Nightmares Become Reality

Alright I know, dramatic. But it's not like one of those terrible apocalypse nightmares or those dreams where you're flayed alive. Just a very subtle, realistic type of nightmare. Some may consider those the worst ones.

I grew up on a lake. Qosaq-yeuna, a native word for Lake of Tall Pines. Life was beautiful then. The water was still, the woods behind us were quiet, the swamp next to us was bustling with life. Our neighbors down the dirt road were older, but very friendly; always giving us vegetables from the garden, fish and meat from their ventures, mushrooms and ferns from their foraging. One old man we called the Mailman would walk 10 miles every morning to grab the paper, and a copy for my father as well. 

The lake itself was small enough to be cozy, but large enough to invoke a sense of adventure. It was a winding body of water nestled in mountains, so you could never see from one end to the other.

There were two islands - one was quite large, and a popular swimming spot with it's rocky shoreline littered with minnows and crayfish. Teens would hang out by the rope swing. There was an unofficial trail and campfire area at the top of the steep landmass. I would get lost up there with my dog, but I was never worried.

There was a beach on this island, too - not a natural one, but the community piled their money together to get sand in and maintain the area. It was where I, and many other babies, first learned to swim. When I got older, the beach turned into a racing line as teens would swim from the beach to the island and back - not a smart choice considering how far it was, but kids are rarely smart.

There were two streams, one of which was right by our house. It was busy and untamed, with birds and bugs swarming the further down the narrow, winding path you go. It was a final undiscovered area that I could never quite conquer.

But my favorite place, was my home. It overlooked the lake, and had large windows and skylights to bring in the leaf-shaded sun. My father built the large deck himself, and even made an opening for a mature tree so he wouldn't have to cut it down. Right at the bottom of the stairs was a rounded, moss-covered rock, seemingly jutting out from the center of the earth. Three very large trees lay just beyond, giving the home and yard just enough shade to still enjoy the sun. 

Thing there didn't change for so long. In a way, I was very lucky.

But then the nightmares came. 

The trees were all cut down, the rock was flattened. The island was cleared of trees, along with the ropeswing, with no trespassing signs plastered every few feet. The beach washed out into the lake, leaving only crabgrass and a sandy soil. All our nice neighbors died, replaced with people who meant to do harm. Our swamp was filled in, the forest demolished, all to fit in more houses. Even our quaint dirt road was repaved with a hot, black asphalt. 

And yet, reality was not far off.

The woods behind our house were cut, and the area paved. A house was plopped down there, with their yard being composed entirely of gravel and concrete. They filled in the swamp next to us and leveled it to put down another house. My home nestled in nature is now surrounded by nosey neighbors.

My old neighbors have all passed, replaced by yuppies from the city that only ever approach you to complain. Just seeing them made me not want to go outside, in fear of being seen. 

The island had a 99 year lease, and when the lease ended it was bought up and the trees and bushes leveled to place a cabin. They cut down the trees with the rope swings, and plastered NO TRESSPASSING signs all over - even kayaking too close will get you yelled at. 

The poor beach was neglected, with not enough people willing to maintain the site. It became overrun with fish hooks and weeds, and the sand began to settle.

I think the most painful though was seeing the mountains being carved away for stores and houses. Social media posts complaining about the coyotes and bobcats encroaching on their land, as if the animals weren't there first. There were even sightings of a cougar, being forced out of it's home to dwell among the humans, and talks of how to kill it. 

While I can still visit the house, my home is now a place I can only enjoy in my memories.