I was standing in a kitchen. It wasn't my kitchen, but someone's and I'm not even sure I know whose. It may have been a combination of a few different kitchens that are familiar to me now that I think about it. Regardless, it was a kitchen and I was standing at the back window of a house as I stood inside of it.
There were trees in the back garden and I was watching birds land in branches mere inches from the glass. There were a lot of plain brown birds that I recognised to be finches and sparrows, but soon a majestic kingfisher landed to the right of them on the branch. His glittering green and blue feathers really caught my eye and I wanted to get a photo of him very badly.
I raised my camera to the window and held it just centimeters from the glass. The bird looked at me knowingly and seemed to be allowing me to operate in such close quarters because he knew I only wanted a photo. And that is when I was interrupted by a little boy.
I snapped a photo and could see nothing but the two flesh coloured swirls that were our reflections on the glass in the kitchen window. Angrily, and without having considered that first of all I always look for reflections in glass before taking a photo, and also that turning the kitchen light off most likely would have rectified the problem, I turned to the little boy so that I could still try to get the photo I wanted.
He asked me what I was doing. In a hushed whisper I told him I was trying to get a picture of the rare bird that was in the tree. In a shout he asked me if he could see. In a hiss I asked him to be quiet and to leave for a moment so that I could get the photo before it flew away, and in the worst case scenario he would be able to see the bird in the photo if I managed to take it before it was too late.
He ignored me completely and began to climb feebly onto the kitchen counters beside me. I was still trying to position the camera and I watched as the bird nervously looked over at him and became jumpy about his chaotic advance.
Furious I grabbed the boy by his shoulder and turned him to face me. The whites of his eyes were luminous yellow. A black and red snake tongue flicked from between his lips. There were dark bags under his eyes. It wasn't the child who had come into the room at all. Movement from the corner of my eye informed me that the kingfisher had flown away.
He glared at me before putting his own hand on mine. I tried to pull away but it was too late. The little boy had me and I heard the words "Let me free" in a very deep and demonic voice, as I struggled against him.
Suddenly I was outside in a small walled garden with others. It was evening and the sun was just about to set. I was with several friends, though on looking back I don't know who any of them are. I suspect they were all male and I suspect they are old friends as opposed to new ones.
There was a gravel path and all of us were standing on it. I had noticed that the trees were all wrong but truly beautiful. I pointed this fact out to the others and showed them a tree to my left that had Royal Blue leaves as an example. "Trees don't grow blue leaves in nature do they?" One of friends had finally spoken.
As soon as their words had left their mouth the sky began to pulse between yellow and red. The Royal Blue leaves changed to a light purple, and then to pink. It was all done in one sweeping motion as opposed to things changing out of sync. It reminded me of changing the hue of a photograph in that the entire picture changes at once as opposed to a single part of it changing out of sync from the rest. The world around us was changing as one and it was painful for us. I covered my ears and winced as the world spun around me with ever morphing colours coming to the sky and the trees.
All of the sudden I saw that I had been whisked away and was laying in my bed... well my bed about 23 years ago at least. Something was wrong about this fact and I wasn't sure what. I got up to get out of the bed despite feeling utterly exhausted. I walked to the door and reached for the handle.
And suddenly I saw that I had been whisked away and was laying in my bed... Well this time it was the last bed I had slept in since my own. Something was wrong about this fact but I couldn't quite figure out what it was. I got up on the opposite side and walked in a different direction to the door. I reached out for the handle.
And then I was in a friends bed. Probably the third previous bed that was not my own that I had slept in recently. Something wasn't right about this though and I was desperate to know what. I was so utterly exhausted that I nearly fell back asleep. I forced myself to get up, again the angle of the bed meant another side to climb out of it and another different direction to go in order to reach the door. I reached out for the handle.
By now I was starting to have vague recollections that every single time I reached for the door I ended up in another bedroom. It scared me. I still wasn't sure what my bedroom looked like or where it was, but I needed to find it or I would be stuck in this cycle forever.
I woke up in the house I grew up in and decided I needed help to get out of this dream; I had realised it was a nightmare by now but I was so tired that I couldn't just put a simple stop to it. As I was in my childhood home I tried screaming out for my mother. Bearing in mind that I didn't know how old I was, where I was, or who I was at this stage in the dream or in real life, it made some sort of sense that in this childhood room, screaming for her was the correct course of action.
No one answered.
I tried to scream for my sisters and I faintly heard one of their voices in the room next door to mine. I screamed for them to come to my room and to help me... "I can't." I heard clearly as the response.
My panic was rising so I shrieked as loudly as I could, only my voice failed me. Even in the dream it sounded like a feeble scream. I tried again, desperate to put more force behind it. If my family weren't going to help me then I would scream until someone else would, or until I woke myself up.
My feeble shrieks came in short bursts. I kept trying to make them stronger and louder but they all sounded the same; barely audible and weak.
I tossed and turned in a montage of beds. Each time I opened my eyes I was in a different one, but all of them were beds I had known at some point in my life. I was so tired and I could not get out of this cycle of beds no matter what I did.
And then I was pinned down by my wrists. I was tied up in my blankets. Some invisible presence was there with me and it was the cause of all of this. I screamed and struggled but nothing worked. I was being forced to stay in the dream by this malevolent spirit. I felt it press my head down against the pillow. I felt it's hands on my back and then on my leg.
I fought with it, kicking and thrashing and screaming to beat hell. I was still so tired but I wasn't about to let this thing get me.
When I woke up in my actual bed I was actually screaming. I was fighting the covers. I did not feel alone in the slightest... I wondered why no one came and realised that in real life I was home alone. There was no one to come.
Cautiously, and filled with dread I climbed out of bed and reached for the door...
No comments:
Post a Comment