Gloria Rising: A Story of Hope and Survival In Dark Evil Places

by Linden Morningstar

  I’m now in the attic that’s cast in eerie dark shadows. Little Gloria is trembling. Why did I come here, I’m afraid. Afraid of what the “Other” said but more afraid of what I will find. I see a lump hanging from the ceiling – thinking it’s a deer – which the “Other” had hung to scare little Gloria, but it’s not a deer. The little girl looks closer and screams, she runs downstairs and hides in a closet. Her mind paralyzed by fear at the horrible sight of the “Other” dangling there.

  Then the Pyramid Lady is by her side and said, “You judged her too harshly look again.” So, I peer back into the shadows and see the “Other” standing on a crate box. He wasn’t dead, he had staged his hanging to terrify Gloria who believed she had killed him. I’m glad I saw the truth. I judged her wrongly and she suffered for it.

  When the mind drifts in panic you can make mistakes. I’m glad I corrected this mistake because it gravely wounded little Gloria. She thought she was guilty because of my mistake. Now, I wiped away the power of his ghastly delusion over her. Now, she’s smiling at the Pyramid Lady – it was a healing.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 172

  Wednesday night

  Hi again!

  Our dreams were filled with lectures on Mother Love tonight. The “Other” filled in what Gloria should know. He said, “He always understood children and their greatest unhappiness – that they were victims of injustice from the moment of their birth. Believing human love to be important, they must suffer, but Gloria didn’t need to suffer because he would teach her that human love was not important as he had learned, and her suffering would end as his had ended.”

  He told her, “Look how you suffered when your mother was here – you had been a good child and your mother didn’t love you. Yet you loved your mother and wanted to be near her, loved the quick movements of her skirt – you loved your mother’s body – wanting an embrace – but she couldn’t love you. Now you suffered as all children must suffer till they know the truth. Now you know that a parent’s love means nothing it’s not important. Even your father makes believe he loves you, it’s all false, and he would rather have had another boy. I tell you parent’s love means nothing, now that you know that you know that, you won’t suffer anymore.”

  What could Gloria say of it that was not true? She used to think it was of all loves the most innocent but now she knew she had been wrong. There were mothers and fathers who loved their children in a way that cut the children’s breathe and stopped their hurts; there were parents who in a passion of love took their children and pressed them to their body and in the next moment threw the children from them screaming covered with blows. There were mothers who hated their children from the moment of their births, who hated the first touch of flesh on flesh and went on hating. And children thrown against a wall or starved, and no one knew why, or what killed or saved. All this the “Other” told Gloria in horrifying detail.

  Also that there was another part of mother love and was merciful – you didn’t give a child anytime or any thought to it – you gave them life, then you left them and opened them out to the world – you would never care to protect them, so you left them to themselves or to put it another way, a mother put down the burden of mother love and left that work to another or whoever was there and that was what Gloria’s mother had done and if it wasn’t for the “Other”, she would have grown up with no love at all. Our dream about this didn’t seem important to tell about but that’s the reason why I wrote about it – because sometimes dreams of nonsense turn out to be important.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 173

  Wednesday night

  Hi again,

  I fell asleep and as I slept I formed an image in my mind – the picture of a flame, a single golden flame burning gently from its source; all around the flame there was darkness. My mind filled with the vision of the burning golden flame until I could feel its warmth and could hear the soft murmur of its energy.

  Concentrating on the flame, the flame that burned at the core of my soul, I slowed my breathing and forced my body to relax. It was a process that felt as if it took hours, but which took only minutes, the gathering of my strength and the centering it on that flame. To those who watched me, my face betrayed some of the intense concentration inside my mind. Those who watched me were doctors and they said I seemed to have gone to sleep; there was no evidence of the forces slowly building up in me. They said they watched me as I lay my hands directly on the writhing body of a man, my hands moved at first in a small circle, then gradually widening until they traced a path in the air the length of his body.

  When my hands stopped, the man who was dying stirred and opened his eyes. The doctors asked me, “What did you do?” But I didn’t know all I felt was the flame’s heat.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 174

  Tuesday night

  Hi again,

  Gloria has been in a very depressed mood this whole weekend – she simply turned her back on domestic life, or turned over in the face of it, like a wounded animal, declaring itself helpless, out of the running, everything in her posture expressing its desire to be left alone, simply to be allowed not to take part.

  Maybe this is why we dreamed of Gloria’s childhood with the “Other” – he was like this. At seven, (in our dream) the “Other” told Gloria he was all done with shopping, the cooking, and the cleaning that got done. In this dream I saw her so often that bookish little girl, going down to the corner, buying bologna, white bread, iceberg lettuce, French dressing. Having sandwiches ready for the “Other” when he walked in and I’d get shocked at this little girl and her domestic chores but it was lucky that she liked home life so she was good at getting the chores straightened out. The “Other” didn’t like home life so he was no good at it. He had been brought up in a home bereft of ordinary groceries. Only now do I realize that the “Other” must have been depressed for years and come from a mother who was depressed too – only depression could amount for such a failure to pay attention or no attention to one’s home. The “Other” talked of the meals his mother had planned and burnt and he wanted nothing but sandwiches, puddings, and salads.

  Well that’s what we dreamed about but it happened that way in real life too. I sure hope Gloria doesn’t get this scary, that it’s only temporary – what do you think?

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 175

  Wednesday night

  Dear Adam,

  I’m happy to tell you that Gloria is more like herself and less depressed – even to dieting and eating the right food. One feeling is dominant – that feeling is relief – relief at being free at least of the torturing question of “where did Gloria fail?” I mean about the “Other” treating her like he did – she just happened to be there and wasn’t the way he wanted her to be. There’s also a feeling of relief of Gloria’s pressure that is off her neck – thanks to you! Sometimes, I think you must have invented optimism. We knock ourselves out being cheerful for others sake and with one visit to you we feel less hurt and less defeated.

  We had the same crazy dream tonight about a black bull trying to break the door down and someone wanting to throw us in a pit of lions but we know these nightmares won’t last. We talked with the “Other” too in our dreams. He told us he never meant anything to his mother, not from the minute she saw him, that she was always ugly, never happy and looked at him like she hated him since he was a kid – he said he didn’t care that he made her miserable on purpose.

  So we’re starting to see the “Other” differently than before. It’s hard to know where to start with this whole mess. We must arrange things into parts, break the surface, so that we can see beneath the smooth, complete appearance, divisions and parts. Together, I think we can someday make some proper sense of all this, don’t you?

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 176

  Sunday night

  Hi again,
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  Tonight we dreamed a scary dream. It was about a little girl who came into a room and out of the dark someone sprang at her. There was a time when he howled, a wordless, wholly animal sound and at the same time a ferocious emotional sound and then, “Open your mouth,” he ordered – the little girl shrank from him, he suddenly caught the girl by the hair and shoved a gun in her face. “I could make you eat this.” – The little girl spat it out, the man seized her head again and slammed the gun deeper into the little girl’s mouth. Then he jerked her head back. Blood gorged from splinters in her lips. She (the little girl) gagged and spat broken teeth and shards up and over the gun and the man’s hand. The initial burst of pain seemed to come from the outside and exploded inward – she probed the jags and gaps with her lacerated tongue, noting the taste of blood, shredded edges of gums and lip – her front teeth had taken the brunt of the damage. At her core she was numb with shock. “Sit up,” ordered the “Other”.

  He had to haul her to a sitting position. Then he said, “You have five minutes to say your prayers then “proof” you’re dead.” – the little girl shivered with fear, then she heard the gun click and thought “I’m dead” then she heard the “Other” laugh and laugh and he said, “Kid I wish you could see your face now.”

  It wasn’t one of our best dreams.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 177

  Tuesday night

  Hi again,

  Gloria seemed lost in her dream and I decided to join her. I’m glad you weren’t present. What happened is the “Other” simply opened his mouth as wide as it would go and let out screams of terrific violence. He stood there screaming into Gloria’s face. I never heard or had seen anything like it and for a moment beyond putting our hands to cover our ears, we couldn’t move. I knew I should strike him in the face to bring him out of it but I didn’t dare. It seemed like something that was happening to someone else because it was too bad to be happening to her especially when he stopped screaming and said, “How can anyone be like you, I can’t understand. You are so thoughtless and cruel. How can anyone be like you?”

  I was in such despair that I can’t put my emotions down on paper. I do not want to think of him as a person or what he’s done, of what he said, this is the worst. This way unbearable panic lies, the kind of panic that comes from knowing one more step in that direction and the mind will break. It seemed as if it would be impossible to go yet again into the open air and confront human beings again.

  Yet, I can’t ever hate the “Other” if it hadn’t been for him Gloria and I would never have known you. But it’s terrible to hear someone screaming and screaming.

  We saw the tree again, only this time it was of hands and seemed sinister. It was a tree with a straight brown trunk and branches and twigs and all over the branches nestling amongst the tree were paper hands. All were exactly the same shape but all were trustworthy and said, “You must not hate the “Other”. All the hands seemed to be held in supplication as if imploring mercy – they reached out from the tree begging for relief or freedom or from oblivion. They were horrible there was a real quality about them.

  I stared at them with a fascinated repulsion. When I went closer to them Gloria woke up. Don’t’ see much sense in this dream.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 178

  Sunday night

  Dear Adam,

  Tonight Gloria dreamed of her father. He was a little old man and she took him in her arms and said, “Well, what do you know my little father tonight, I can love you like I always wanted to after fifty years. I love you my Papa, I love you, you didn’t want to leave me, you didn’t want to hurt my hands, your little Gloria wouldn’t let go and you had to make her, I love you Papa and I understand. I thought you showed me so much love as I grew up because you felt guilty of betraying me but you did love me as I love you and now in spirit we’re together again never to part.

  Then she had another dream in which she ran away from the “Other”. She walked in sand and fog for miles – how tired she was and so thirsty – how dry her throat – she wished she had one of your Life Savers – but she was afraid to stop. If she stopped it meant to her that she was lost, and she had managed not to think of that so far. It was dark and she was caught in a terrible sand storm. She felt dizzy – her skin blistered – her eyes blinded, she could hardly see. She walked all day till night and all there was turned to sand – no water – nothing but sand. At last dawn came. She looked around and there was sand everywhere – mountains of it. They were waiting for the wind and then they would topple down and bury her alive. She was going to die. Then ahead of her, she saw a curious blue and white blob, she stumbled towards it.

  It looked like her lady – yes, it was. Her Pyramid Lady – Oh! Oh! Gloria moaned. There was sand in her eyes, her eyelashes, her ears, caught in her hair and in the blisters that covered her skin. Even worse was the sand of loneliness – then her mind was trapped by her three eyed friend. And there was something, she could not remember however hard she tried. Until she understood she would have no peace

  The key she knew lay in something terrible she had thrust out of her mind – some vital memory. This awful sand was now the only reality – all the rest was another dream – it was pointless, she could only lay down and die.

  “Gloria,” said the lady, “you don’t have fat to go – there’s water there – get up now,” she got up and stumbled, oh, how tired she was, she fell again. “Gloria you’re a strong girl now pick up your feet,” the lady scolded – she took a few steps then stumbled again – “hurry Gloria, don’t stop,” then she heard the lady whisper close behind her, “Don’t stop whatever you do. Remember I love you – I promise you water – don’t stop – don’t let anything make you stop ever.”

  Gloria marched on even through the night, lurching more than marching. “Sorry,” she mumbled when she stumbled and fell again. “Shush,” said the lady – they walked on – macabre shapes trembled in the wind reaching out for Gloria, suddenly she screamed loud and fell – then a brilliant light flooded the sandstorm and the lady with three eyes stood there in all her glory and next to her stood Gloria’s mother and she ran to Gloria and picked her up, “Come, I’ll carry you the rest of the way,” her mother said – Gloria clung to her and woke up in a cold sweat. Some strange dream isn’t it?

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 179

  Wednesday night

  Dear Adam,

  Gloria dreamed about a gray horse tonight and the horse was struck by lightning. Later she dreamed about the gray horse again and he came into her room, his hooves silent on the rug. He was forlorn with dark eyes and he clung to the corner shadows. Then he moved slowly through the door and to the porch. His big mane flowing, he whinnied softly and kept shaking his head. Then Gloria saw a beach ahead and dark hills. The gray horse took off and ran along the beach toward the hills. Drops of rain started but the horse entered the range of dark hills and started climbing. A jagged bolt of lightning struck the gray horse. I heard his cry, saw him stagger and he fell and lay very still.

  The lady with the three eyes appeared from the hills circled for a while over the blackened gray horse, she shook her head and said, “Very sad, very sad, but don’t let it get to you, he lived that horse, he lived!” Then a small bird circled over, then flew over the sea and a larger bird came and the lady flew over its back, giving Gloria a loving look as she flew. Gloria woke up shivering and bathed in sweat. Now this dream, I can make no sense of – can you?

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 180

  Wednesday night

  Dear Adam,

  A cold chill ran up my back and I had a sinking feeling when I awoke from my dream tonight. I only began feeling better when I saw the house, knowing I was home.

  It was about a little girl, she was locked in the cellar. For hours she stood in the blackness, listening first to her own helpless screams then to the “Other’s�
� hideous laughing, tormenting her just beyond the locked door and finally when he’d gone away, small sounds began to fill her mind with unseen terror, images of monsters creeping, circling her closer and closer until she was sure they could simply reach out and touch her. “Mommy, Daddy.” She pounded against the cellar door, “Where are you?” She knew they were never coming back because that’s what happened to bad children. “He’s lying,” she sobbed. Wasn’t he?

  She huddled shivering in the darkness, feeling herself growing smaller, she stayed like that until finally she fell into an exhausted sleep. The door opened finally and the “Other” said, “Don’t you know good children don’t cry,” he said, “You, will you understand me now when I tell you that your parents never wanted you, no one loves you, not your mother, not your father, not your sisters or brothers and not me. You are all alone. It’s like Hansel and Gretel in the storybook I read. They were bad children so their parents left them in the woods to die and then a kind lady took them in and tried to teach them to behave but Hansel wouldn’t listen and started to tell lies and finally the lady had to put him in the oven and burn him up. When children are bad parents leave them and they don’t care what happens to those bad kids.

  If you’re ready to behave you may come up now but if you’re bad again something bad is going to happen to you, I can feel it and it’s going to be the worst thing ever.”

  The stairs creaked and the little girl goes up and we woke up before the “something worst” happened.

  Gloria’s Helper

  AUTOMATIC LETTER 181

  Sunday night

  Hi,

  Thought I’d try this writing tonight and it threw me at once into a desperate, frantic panic. But now, I’m adjusting to it. I’m remembering that I’m here just to talk about our dreams. I dreamed about a big man and a little girl – the big man was very angry over a spilled glass of milk and I saw him strike the little girl, a backhanded blow across his face using all the strength of his arm – strike her again and again after that, using his arms like a tennis player – the lady with the three eyes came in and pulled the big man off and slapped him herself to calm him down, like you’d been told you had to do with hysterical people.