Man of My Dreams

Man of My Dreams


The footsteps are getting closer, then suddenly stop. I can feel someone’s eyes on me. I snuggle deeper under my blanket, wishing I were able to disappear. Each night dream peaceful dreams till he enters. I know, without looking, that it is him, the man who turns every dream into a hideous nightmare. Exactly who he is or what he wants from me, I do not know. All I know is fear. He paces back and forth, back and forth, slowly beside my bed. I can sense his smile, his evil grin; he enjoys every second of my torment. There is no one else it could be; I know it is him.
“Yes, its me,” a harsh voice hisses, seeming to know my every thought. He sits lightly on the edge of the bed. “You knew this tie would come, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” a quiet, dry whisper passes my lips. “What, what do you want?” I ask, hardly able to make my voice work. With my eyes shut tight I wait for an answer. I am frozen with fear, and he knows it.
He laughs, “I think you know what I want.” His words penetrate to my very soul as I feel his rough fingers run down my cheek and onto my throat. What could he possibly want? I am too afraid to even guess. I want to scream but cannot. In an instant, he grabs my arm and jerks me upright. The stabbing pain in my shoulder brings tears to my eyes. Now face to face with him, I can see his crooked grin.
He is tall, slightly on the thin side. The black shirt he wears clings to his body and is carefully tucked into his dark blue jeans. The dark colors make his pale skin seem to glow, and the coolness in his ice-blue eyes sends chills down my spine. His dark, unkempt blonde hair finishes a look that in another situation I may have considered handsome.
“Now the fun begins.” His smile widens, as he carefully plays with several strands of my hair. He snaps his fingers, and we are suddenly o a busy street; and instead of the safety of my be, I am sitting on a bus-stop bench. Before turning to leave, he looks me in the eyes. “Run,” he growls.
Slowly, he walks to the other side of the street. The traffic continues as normal, yet not a single vehicle comes close to hitting him. On the opposite corner, he turns and watches me. I sit for a moment, thinking. Where do I go? There is o hiding. Everywhere I go, he will find me. How? Why does my mind create someone to torment my sleep?
I stand, yet I do not know where to go. Walking down the street, I am afraid to turn around because I know he will be there I can feel his footsteps behind me. In a daze, I begin to run. The people on the street do not even glance at me. They do not care that he is after me, that he will kill me if, no when he catches me.
Moving quickly down the sidewalk, I can feel my heart beating. The pounding makes my chest ache, as my heart threatens to make its escape. His footsteps thunder in my ears, moving closer and closer. He seems to be surrounding me. Timidly, I glance over my shoulder; there is no one there. Even the people who had been walking past me are gone. I look ahead of me, and again everyone has vanished. In the streets, not a single car is moving. I am alone. The silence envelops me, not even the wind care be detected; yet his footsteps remain. Slow and heavy, thump, thump, thump. Desperately, I cover my ears. I cannot escape the sound!
I turn the corner, hoping-praying-for someone to help me. I feel a warm steady flow of tears streaming down my face as the hopelessness of the situation sinks in. Sobbing, I collapse in the doorway of a small store and hide. I want this nightmare to be over. I want to wake up. Sitting on the cold step, hugging my knees, I cry. The footsteps stop. I glance around but there is no one there.
Slowly, I collect myself, wiping the tears from my eyes. This has to end. I am determined; he will not catch me tonight! Feeling stronger, I stand and begin walking. I will not let this man control my dreams.
I see a police officer standing on the corner ahead of me. I sprint toward him. He turns to face me, and its him! In a panic, I run. A hand falls hard on my injured shoulder. Whimpering in pain, I struggle against his strong grip. The fingers tighten, digging deep into my flesh. He pulls me toward him; I fall painfully to the ground beside him. I look up as something strikes the back of my head. Consciousness flees; he has me.
I awaken in a small dark room The only light comes from a dim lamp hanging from the center of the ceiling. The tiny window is boarded over, providing no chance of escape. I am lying on a small, bare mattress on the floor. There is no other furniture, and the walls are painted a dark green. The hard-wood floor looks as though it has not seen a mop in years. Dust and dirt cake the edges of the room. My head aches with a dull pain as I stare at my dingy prison.
Inch by inch, the door creaks open. I sit up; waves of dizziness nearly cause me to lie back down. When the door is completely open, he slowly walks in, enjoying his victory. He stops directly in front of me, staring down, grinning.
“I have won again,” his voice echoes in the emptiness of the room. A thoughtful expression replaces his grin. “Hmmm, what shall I do tonight?” he ponders aloud, carefully rubbing his clean-shaven chin.
“Just let me go,” I plead, trying not to sound desperate.
He laughs, “Its an idea, but no, that simply wont work for me.” He looks at me calmly, and for a moment he almost seems human. I can practically see some kind of emotion, perhaps even a fondness for me.
He kneels to my level and carefully takes my hands, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs. I cringe and pull away. His gentleness disappears as a wave of anger overtakes him. He grabs my upper arms; involuntarily, I cry out from the pain as he drags me up.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly.
“Because I can,” he angrily hisses, pronouncing each word sharply.
Holding me close to him, he guides me into another room. Like the first, this room has very little light and the same morbid-looking dark-green paint. The floor is filthy. I wonder how anyone could live like this, if indeed he alls this home.
“Wait here,” he orders as he pushes me away from the door. Before I can argue, he shuts the door. I run to the door. Pulling on the doorknob, I find it locked. I pace anxiously around the room, looking for any possible way out. I see a heavy iron ring attached to the floor. Excitedly, I pull, praying that I have found a trap door. The ring does not budge. I am trapped. Exhausted, I sit in a chair in the corner to wait.
After what seems like hours, I hear him unlock the door. He enters with both hands hidden behind his back. All of my muscles feel tense as I wonder what he has planned. As he walks toward me, I get up, hoping to be able to make a quick dash for the door. I am halfway out, when I feel a rushing pressure. He has slammed into the door, pinning me between the door and the frame.
He takes me by the back of the shirt and drags me to the center of the room. I fall to the floor as he places a rope around my neck. As he throws the loose end over the rafter, I realize what the iron ring is for. He is going to hang me. I desperately fight to get free as he pulls the chair beside me and forces me up.
I stand on the wobbling chair as he tightens the rope around my neck. The rough fibers scratch my skin, leaving a raw, burning line of broken flesh.
“This is just a nightmare,” I squeak, almost in tears. He smiles as I try to think of ways to wake myself.
“No, its a dream, my dream,” he whispers. His warm breath touches my ear. Looking at him almost in shock, I can say nothing. “Don’t look so surprised. You should have known. You are nothing but a character under my control.” He laughs, waiting for me to absorb this new truth.
With a violent jerk, I feel him kick the chair out from under me. The rope snaps taut. The force chokes me; I struggle to breathe. I pull the rope with both hands. It is no use; I cannot save myself. I can see him watching me, a somber look on his face. The pain dulls as the room fades, then disappears.



The footsteps are getting closer, then suddenly stop. This time I know I have nothing to fear.