Ever heard of a dream within a dream? Well take that and sprinkle some terror and panic. |
I can't breathe. I try to concentrate, try to swallow my panic, attempt to move my toe. Wiggle. I exhale. Im good. I'll wake up now. For sure. Wake up! I order my brain. Its just a dream, wake the fuck up! Nothing. I take stock, move my toes, check. Legs? No. Finger motility? Check. Arms? No. I move my head, glad that it swivels, i look around. Im in a bed, no wait. I feel with my hands, the surface is cold.Cement? I strain my face to one side, yes I am definitely in a cement slab. I see metal objects, lots of them, on the ceiling, the walls, contraptions I have never seen before. Some pristine, most brown with rust, I think. Its rust, I'm sure. All these objects have a purpose that escape me, or maybe its my psyche trying to shield itself. To the right I see knives on a metal table, big knives small knives, curved. Knives are ok, I know knives. Im okay, its just a dream, albeit a very disturbing one, what with not being able to move and all. At least I can breathe. Ill just wait, I'm pretty sure morning is coming. What a damn fine way to start lucid dreaming and be handicapped in it. My heart starts beating fast..what the? I strain from my invisible bindings, I hear a scraping sound and look sharply to my left, was that door there earlier? The sound seems to be getting closer, akin to someone walking with a limp no something worse, sounds like a dragging of dead weight. Scrape..clop....Scrape...clop....drop. It lingers close to the door, again my breathing stops. The door creaks open, I can't breathe. My head starts to pound, how can someone last this long without breathing?Is it all in my head? A hooded figure comes in goes straight to table, he moves it closer, I notice it has wheels. I still can't breathe. My eyes are wide open, at least I think they are, I look at this stranger as he sorts through the knives. Need.To. Fucking. Wake. Up. He slowly turns and moves towards me and all i see past the hood is a bloodied surgical mask. I scream. I hear a concerned voice, urgent, there is persistent nudging. What is that? I open my eyes and inhale with relief. Im in my bed, my mother looking down at me. Im safe. Im home. I look at my mother, tearing up, needing, wanting her hug. My eyes travel down to her neck, i see the bruises. The bruises she got when she tried to hang herself three years ago. And succeeded. I can't breathe. |