"I just want the nightmare to end..."
When one closes their eyes, drifts off to sleep, the mind works mysteriously. Dreams come forth, they bring us strange readings on how we are doing in our lives, even when they are not easily readable. But always, when the time to wake comes, the dream fades and is often never seen again.
But then there are nightmares... our subconsciousness trying to tell us something we don't know. They often terrify us... because we are afraid of the truth behind it. But just like the dream, they eventually fade... but not for Scootaloo. For her, each night, she is visited by the same exact nightmare.
Lost and scared in her own dreams, she begins to give up, to slip into depression. After all, no one pony can suffer too much trauma brought upon by their own brain. But one night, during the dream... she realizes that something else is there, floating in her subconscious.
And she feels that soon, the nightmare will end.
Foreword: This story is based upon my own personal experiences after finding my father nearly died from attempted suicide for about a month. Everything in the story is a metaphor to my own life, everything from the shack in the middle of nowhere (my loneliness) to the cliff (the escape).
Mainly, this was written as per request by my therapist, who said I should write a metaphoric story about those times in a way that makes me happy. So naturally, I chose ponies. And who better than Scootaloo, who, in my fanon, lives like I do?
It's, hard to comment on a story like this. I mean, it's well-written and has a lot of heart behind it. Plus, if you think it did you some good to get those thoughts down on paper (er, computer), then who am I to say you can't?
However, there's one thing that bothers me, but doesn't at the same time: I don't know you personally. I don't know what you've been through beyond your disclaimer. As such, a lot of the metaphors you talk about here are kinda lost on me. But then again, I'm not your intended audience, am I? This was a therapeutic exercise meant for you, and you specifically. So of course there's going to be stuff I don't get.
I won't talk about your portrayal of Scootaloo because I recognize that she's a representation of you in this story. I will say, however, that it's very brave of you to share this with a wider audience, even if the majority of people on this site might not get it. Or maybe they will; I don't know. The point I'm trying to make is that it's, not really my place to critique this. And just fair warning to others: If you plan on critiquing this, tread carefully.
To sum up, it's a powerful story, and I admire your courage with sharing this very personal tragedy with the world. There are parts that leave me scratching my head, but that's because I'm not you. And I suppose the most important thing is that it was able to do you some good, so if that's the case, then I can't really complain.
I wish you well, dear author. L'chaim.
3488703 Thanks for the comment, dear fellow. Actually, thanks for pointing that out... it would seem I forgot to save after updating the authors note, which was supposed to point out the metaphors... So I'll have to fix that. But anyways, thanks for the comment again!
3488803 Small internet, eh? I always try to make sure the art isn't used on another story, but sometimes it just slips through... oh well!
3488809 Actually, I know exactly what it is like, even though my dreams are different they all lead me to one thing, making the right decision but I don't know what to chose, but I keep pushing forward anyway, wanting to forget my past, but I cannot forget my past as it acts as a lesson, my dreams are a presentation of what could happen in my future if I don't do what needs to be done and the effect of choices that I will have to make. It does bother me but in my array of options death isn't one of them, I try to seek an end that will leave no one mourning and no one hurting, while at the same time keeping me alive. I do try to change my dreams, make them better but to no avail, although not all of my dreams are nightmares they still bother me.
Mmm... Seems like a good read
*reads description*
Hmm...
3488703
Also you just summed up my feelings in a way that I could not
Edit: I want to read this at a more appropriate time, right now my mind is fogged with sleepiness and I feel like I won't interpret the story well so I'll read it when I feel clarity and peace. It might just be a story for some but I think this will move me in a way only someone who's put their heart and soul into writing can.
I'm afraid 3488703 is right... It's very hard to critique something like this, and somehow I almost feel I don't have the right to. so instead of jumping right in I'll ask you; would you like a critique on this story?
She she slept, all she had was nightmares.
Just a little spot there, but it didn't bother me. Sometimes it's not so much what is actually said as what is communicated.
Thank you for sharing this. I feel on that edge right now, and for me it feels like every mistake is amplified and holds me back. *tears* This road is so long... so long.
3493801 Go ahead, bridge-keeper. I'm not afraid!
That quote may be lost on some people.
3506463 It is lost on me, but for some reason "You shall not pass!" comes to mind...
So, unfortunately, it's been a little while now since I read this, and I'm too lazy to go about reading it again (even if it is fairly short...
). I can tell you what I remember though!
This story has 2 main flaws, one of which is minor, the other of which is a bad habit that you should try your best to get out of.
Let's jump right in with the bad habit: elipses. Elipsi. However the hay you like to pluralize it, there's an over-abundance of them in this (and many other, I assure you) piece of writing. I used to, and perhaps still do, succumb to using it fairly often. It represents a slow take on narration, like the way you hear it in your head when you're writing. However, people don't usually like to read it that way. They read it their own way, and the way they hear it in their head is contingent on the tone and pacing of the story, not on the punctuation. If the elipse can be replaced by a comma or a period and still make sense, then turn it into a comma or a period! Elipses should be reserved for those rare moments when they're absolutely necessary. You shouldn't have more than one in a single paragraph. Hay, you shouldn't have more than one every few paragraphs unless something unusual's going on with the dialogue! Speaking of which, especially try to avoid using them outside of dialogue. It's kind of like using an exclamaition mark outside of dialogue, if you know why that's bad; if you're a narrative genious like Tolkien then the rules can be broken, but most of the time you want to follow them.
Secondly, you... um... well, you sort of seem to glorify death here. There's nothing wrong with that in the right story, but most people, even depressed people, don't usually think "it would be nice to die." Typically a suicidal person knows how much it sucks to die, but they've realized that living sucks even more, and at the very least from a literary standpoint it helps bring the reader to truly sympathise with the character, even if we don't want them to die. Which we shouldn't, if we like them. Death just sounds too nice in this story to carry much impact... Even when Scootaloo's realizing that life can be good (I still can't figure out if she actually killed herself or if she was dreaming), she doesn't seem to fear death, or really care.
That is all. otherwise you had a pretty good story here!
rating:
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I really do appreciate you writing this. I have also been where scootaloo (and you) have been and this hit really hard for me but also it was the truest and most accurate telling of that mindset I have ever red either in FIMfiction or other places.
Thank you for writing this.
Neat.
i would love to get know and befriend you as you sound like a few others i have helped befor. if only as a shoulder. and truthful Metool Bard exclaims very well about individual experience.
there is a Great poem by Jessica Hedges called "The Ride" and i think there are some connections i hope will help.
we are blessed acd cursed with things that shape who we are. events that cause our personalities to scar.
praying for daylight at 3 am wile baulling. so you could work another day without falling.
these little challenges though give our lives meaning. giving our minds and our fears there required weaning.
for if we never push the expanses we are. then we can't expect to reach our goals afar.
so when life is hard go back to your foundation. and find no shame in your childhood quotations.
(this next one in particular strikes me as potentialy helpful too you) these lessons instilled in us so many years befor. were designed to help us build "ourselves" into more.
thats only the relevant parts.
I feel some what simaller to you, in your reasoning for this story. (And i'm not talking about the therapist) Both my grandfather's died soon after I was born and my cousin recently died of a cancer no one knew about. My cousin/aunt (My aunt's daughter that was adopted by my grandmother) has spent 80% of her life in prison, 10% on probation, and the other 10% was her childhood. My other cousin is on the same path as my aunt/cousin. And I have anxiety, ADHD, Optificial Defiance Disorder, and Type 1 Diabetes.(For those who don't know, Type 1 is ALOT worse than type 2 cause type 2 can be cured and you suffer more with type 1. And by suffer, I mean get poked with 3 to 10 needles a day) ALL that is why I consider suicide every night before I sleep. Also, who is your therapist, I need a different therapist cause mine is crappy and only wants to know about my relationships.
This story made me cry. Unusually hard.
Because I can relate to it, so, so much, and I hate that.
I have thought of suicide for so long now, and I’m only fourteen, and have been thinking of it since I was ten. Someone that had a huge impact on my life passed away, and he was a dog, but he made me feel immense joy Thay when he died so unexpectedly because of a tumor, I became depressed. I want to move forward, like how Scootaloo does in the story, but it’s just so impossible when the past is the only thing I think about and that I can never imagine a future for myself. The only thing that truly keeps me going is my best friend, who doesn’t even know how upset I truly am.
It’s very hard, and I hate how I relate so much to this. I don’t want to be sad, but it’s also impossible to be truly happy. And I can tell, even without going to the doctor, that I’m more than just sad. I can’t find joy in anything anymore, like drawing and reading, which used to be my most favorite things in the world, or caring about grades at all. I used to care, because I wanted a future. But that was then, and this is now.