A horrific Dream

The very last rays of light from the sun gushing through the window frames, a sliver of chilly breeze delicately overtaking the dried leaves on the grassy lawn, as if they had no predefined destination and had accepted their destinies, the squawking of a gobble, now and then, periodically interrupted by the delightful music of a cuckoo, filling the environment with electricity unimaginable, and in such a scenario, I glanced out the window, watching the sun gradually fade over the skyline, just as it has a hundred thousand times previously, and will keep going to do just that, everlastingly eternally, considering how the day is drawing to a close, and welcoming the night sky with a sneaky stare.

I notice a guy waddling across the street, straight for the residence where I’ve been living. In the poor light, it was difficult to tell whether the figure belonged to a man or a woman; all I knew was that it was the shape of an ordinary-sized individual escaping from something else. The calm breeze, which had been brushing my face with their cool touch up until this point, eventually began to swirl with an unsettling fury, as if foreshadowing the advent of an unimaginable tempest. Despite this, I kept peering out the window, my eyes shielded from the dirt, attempting to try to sort to see where the stranger had gone. I couldn’t see much in the darkness, so I shut the windows and went back to my quiet quarters, as I had practised for the previous three years.

I managed to pick up a paperback that I never really seemed to complete and flicked open page 415 while reclining in the nice chair that I had custom-made for my readings. I couldn’t help but notice a little motion in my field of vision, as engaged as I was. Because the study lamp was just not luminous enough to brighten the entire room, I couldn’t see the attacker as he steadily pressed the cold metal edge of the knife on my throat and carved a red slit from one end to another with a golf-like swing. Blood coloured crystals began to pour down on the popped open page of the book before I could react. Before it all turned black, the very last idea that went through my head was whether the stranger outside wasn’t trying to run away from something; alternatively, it was my demise heading for me.

I wake up with a scream as if every nerve in my body had been charred by merciless lightning from the rumbling clouds. When I turn around, I’m soaked in dampness and wearing only shorts in a poorly lighted room. I rush out of the mattress and reach for my neck, which is in excellent shape; no marks, no bleeding, nothing to suggest my homicide the night before, or was it all a horrible nightmare? I pinched my cheeks to verify this, and it hurts. Things appear to be realistic enough, and the terrible events of yesterday never occurred; but then again, it was just a terrible nightmare.

I collect myself and proceed to the restroom, where I strip and bathe. Each drop of water that touches my flesh gives me a sensation of comfort as if I’ve been starved of it, and as it falls down the nooks and crannies of my body, it seems as if it’s lifting a burden off my shoulders. At 4:15 a.m., I get dressed, have a glass of cold milk, and then settle down to start on the new narrative I’m writing on. Nevertheless, it’s too soon for me to go for a workout outdoors, so I turn on my laptop, intending to have some work done before even the sunsets. The laptop is still turned off. The charger is plugged in, however, the indication indicates that it is powered up. I take out the battery, replace it, and turn on the power again, wishing without hope that the device isn’t broken.

I notice two small red dots barely a centimetres away blazing in the middle of the laptop screen. As I concentrated on the dots, it appeared as if the diameters of the red dots became larger, along with the brightness, before returning to darkness. As I get nearer to the display, struggling to figure out what the hell just happened, pitch-black tentacles emerge from the display, wrapping around my head and attempting to draw me within the gadget. I try to fight it, but its sheer force overwhelms me, and I realize it’s only my head that was being dragged in. I try to fight it, but its powerful strength overwhelms me, and I realize it’s only my head that was being sucked in. My neck’s muscles and fractures crack one by one, and it’s not long before I witness my lifeless, soaked in blood body, bare head, crash to the earth with a boom, the filaments upholding my head, letting me see the dreadful show as I slowly disappear.

I managed to elevate up, but my forearms, as well as the remainder of my body, are shackled, and the only thing free of chains are my eyes, which I steadily open to see a white ceiling and a person clad in white gazing over me, examining my face, as if trying to decode some information from my face. I think I hear something about the patient in room 412 flitting between fiction and nonfiction, dreams and actuality, and I’m not sure if they’re referring to me or whomever. I couldn’t squish myself to confirm my situation, but the doctor beamed red lights in my eyes again, and the dazzling glitter of a blade from somewhere caught my attention before the image went dark.