The Miner by Jennifer Knowles
I first met him in my nightmares. A coal-blackened face; the starry night sky briefly illuminated his whiskery, white beard and eyebrows. Droopy eyes full of sadness and kindness, bags large enough to hold potatoes. He’s made his living underground, mining for deep-rooted fears. I am his quarry. He sucks the darkness out of me.
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He appeared in my dreams when they bullied me at school. Silent, conveying his empathy through his piercing stare, capturing me in his wisdom with eyes that said, “This will pass; you’ll be alright. You’re just like me.”
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He’s taken to appearing in my dreams in the darkness of depression. I’m not scared of him now. I welcome him. He’s a helper, not a hellish figure. I welcome his deep excavation of my soul, extracting the ore from painful, sharp rocks, splitting fissures wounding the wasteland of my childhood.
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This morning as I peer quizzically at my ageing reflection in the mirror, I see his face. He is imploring me to take on his mantle, to visit others in their dreams, to shatter their heavy burdens and to free the rubies and emeralds of their true selves, to let a little light illuminate the darkness.
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I nod, accepting his wish, and for the briefest moment, light floods his cracked, weathered face. It is beautiful. He is smiling.
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Jennifer Knowles is a psychotherapist using creative writing as a therapeutic tool. She has also co-wrote a feature film, ‘Running Naked’ which was selected for the Beijng film festival.
Photo by Danish Maan at Pexels
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