I became resigned to the power of the visions,
recognising my place in the scheme of things
and realising the futility of it all.

With time I learnt to hide the visions' effects
and ceased even to tell others of their existence.
By the age of sixteen, I was deemed cured
and ready to join the “real world”.

But I had merely learnt to wear the mask of sanity…
Sometimes however, the mask slipped
and deeds of darkness came to light.

I would awake alone in a dark forest, shivering.
Then I'd realise… I dreamt this.
Somehow I had sleepwalked into the forest at night.
The black shapes of swaying trees crowded around me
and the wind taunted in strange voices.

Then I'd notice the candle-lit marks etched in the dirt before me…
If what I just dreamt was real, then we were in great danger.

Screaming, I'd run through moonless undergrowth
until I found a road I could follow home,
or someone found me, bruised and feverish, the next day.

My fate was inevitable. I was doomed to repeat history.

Neither drugs nor therapy stopped my sleepwalking
and before long I was sleeping in restraints.
At seventeen I left school and moved with my parents
from Howqua Hills to far away Melbourne.

With the move, my sleepwalking ended.
I began a new life among strangers who did not know my past, nor care.
They teased me for my country background,
but accepted me as normal, as someone who was dependable.

But never did the visions relent,
ever reminding me of who I was and was destined to be.
Every waking hour, the visions called to me
and every night, I would return.

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