Dreaming While You Sleep

Foreword-
This “Story” was inspired to me by a song of the same title by Genesis. I hope that after reading this story you might listen to the song and hear the pure raw emotion put into it that moved me to tears. The song is on the We Can’t Dance Album and there are numerous other song that I could site and write stories about but this one is the story I chose.

My interpretation might be a little different than intended but I hope I do justice to the song, the band, and most importantly to the dreamer. This story is dedicated to anyone who is looking for an excuse not to drive drunk. May you always find your way home without being behind the wheel.

Part 1: Dreaming

Prologue:

The dark and twisted trees
Bear down upon me
Like the horrid hands of Hell
To drag me down
Kicking and screaming
Into that dark
Unkown abbys
That is the tortured soul

My beer lay half full
At my feet
The radio blares in attempt
To wake me
The rain sheaths
My windsield
In a blurred gloss

There are sirens behind me
Flashing and yelling
Demanding my capture
But we do not go quietly into the night
We roar like lions
As our eyes slowly close again

"You think I'm done here"
I yell to the eyes in my mirror
"You think I am defeated"
I am a god
My drunken mind shouts

The sirens slowly disipate
Into the mist and the dark
That was what was
As I barrel down the road
Manically

Swerving around a turn
At un godly speed
My bumper slams into a body
That cracks the windshield
Just in front of me
And through the dark wet tangles
Of mishappen hair
I saw two deep blue eyes
That caught me in their stare

The body flipped and flew
Through angel tears and air
And landed behind me
as I came to a screeching halt
The car slid to the left
A lttle to the right
And as I came to a stop
Overlooking a rusty gaurd rail
I felt my heart die

In the red of the rear brake lights
Was a crumpled mass
Of twisted limbs
And messy hair
And one glazed eye
Peeking beneath the tangles
Accusitorially
At me

The lights make the rain as blood
The hair a dark crimson mass
There is blood all behind me
Blood soaking the past
I have no recollection of time
I rememeber picking up my beer
And I recall yelling and cursing
Then driving off in fear

The sirens chase me
Through hellish trees
There limbs twisted and horrific
Like demons trying to graspe me
I try to out run both
With my foot to the floor
But god I'm so damn tired
I don't know
If I can any more
My half bottle beer
Sits by my feet
And with another swig
I yell to them all come catch me....

Part 2: Existing

There were red and blue lights flashing along the horizon in my rear view mirror, but they have vanished since the last time I looked into it. All that’s visible through the scarred reflective surface, is the dark night, or maybe I should say that it’s so dark that not to much is visible outside of the stream of my car lights.

Indeed, I can still see the bare twisted trees of winter baring down upon my vehicle from above, like a morbid grotesque miss happened child’s hand reaching down for it’s run away matchbox. I can see the watery wash of rain splashing on my windshield. I can kind of’ see the guard rail I think though I’m not quite sure. The yellow median of the road is a myth to these watery pain filled red eyes of mine.

The cops were chasing me, I think, some time ago. I saw them behind me, the bright lights of their sirens killing my already achy and bleary eyes. I watched the lights diminish as I sped off into the night.

I know what your thinking, you’re thinking to yourself what a liar, you can’t out run the cops in a piece of shit dodge Aries, especially one with damage and engine problems. Stop looking me in the eyes to see if I’m lying, I’m not… sometimes I wish I were but I’m not…

It’s a little foggy, this road I’m on. I’m not talking weather wise, I’m talking memories. I guess The drinks are getting to me after all. I head deeper and deeper into the dark road, squinting but not seeing anything. I take a sip out of my open bottle of Bud and slowly make the turn. As I turn on the radio the bottle slips down out from between my index and middle finger. I hear it in my head still, the sound of the smoke brown glass sliding down over the silver metal of my class ring. It seams like time slows to a crawl at some moments in your life. This is one of those moments.

I feel the cold wetness of the beer wash over my thigh as I bend down to pick it up. I am turning around a sharp turn not noticing the road flares or the dead car on the side of the road with it’s hazard lights flashing in the darkness because my eyes are on the brown bottle. As I lean back up I turn on the radio and hear static and beeps. Beep…Beep…Beep Beep…Beep…I am turning the dial, nothing changing on the radio while I scream at the radio to work in agitation and frustration.

I am looking in the rear view mirror when I catch a glimpse of something big flying up the hood of the car, crash and crack the windshield and finally fly behind my speeding car. Reactively I slam on the brakes, the car hydroplanes and I fight for control. The steering wheel responds and the wheels treads finally grip earth and I halt the car just before a soaked rust covered guard rail just above a cliff that looks 40 to 50 feet deep.

Behind me I see a red lump of what had hit my car, laying in the rain in the middle of the road, illuminated by the crimson color of my tail lights. Eerily, the red lights make the long blonde hair look like blood flowing instead of something organic and living once upon a time. Her body is crumpled. Her arm is twisted in a completely impossible way. Her Legs look crumpled and broken to pieces. Her hair, that blood color from my lights, covers most of her face so that I cant see it, but I can see one eye, glazed and glassy staring at me…just staring.

I beat wildly on my dash. Yelling and screaming at myself, looking in the cracked mirror. As I stare into my eyes I have a feeling of déjà vu. I remember this road. I remember this night, I remember this girl, I have been through all of this before. Multiple times, I can remember as if my life was stuck in some scratched Digital Video Disk that repeated the same scene over and over.

The Beeping on the radio brings me back from the revelation. It is her some how, I’m not sure how I know but it’s all her. Tired, wanting this to end, just wanting to die, I get out of my car slowly. I feel the rain drizzle over top of me, running over me as I walk to her slowly. I reach down and feel her pulse. It’s weak but there is one. She is breathing. Unconcious but alive and in some kind of comma. She is wearing a hospital gown now, though I would swear she was wearing jeans and a raincoat a few moments ago as I looked on her.

I yell down upon her, “Wake up! Get up! What the hell is the matter with you!” She just lays there. I see she is just a teenager. Not nearly along through life as me, or at least by looks as ironically, I could not tell you my birthday. “Get up!”

I see the sirens coming. Flashing red and blue filing the night sky. I jump back in my Aries and drive off into the dark rainy night. There were red and blue lights flashing along the horizon in my cracked rear view mirror, but they have vanished since the last time I looked into it. All that’s visible through the scarred reflective surface, is the dark night, or maybe I should say that it’s so dark that not to much is visible outside of the stream of my car lights.

Indeed, I can still see the bare twisted trees of winter baring down upon my vehicle from above, like a morbid grotesque miss happened demonic hand reaching down to drag me to hell as the watery wash of rain splashes down my windshield. I can kind of see the guard rail I think though I’m not quite sure. The yellow median of the road is a myth to these watery pain filled puffy red eyes of mine.

The cops were chasing me, I think, some time ago. I saw them behind me, the bright lights of their sirens killing my already achy and bleary eyes. I watched the lights diminish as I sped off into the night.
I know what your thinking, you’re thinking to yourself what a liar, you can’t out run the cops in a piece of shit dodge Aries, especially one with damage and engine problems. Stop looking me in the eyes to see if I’m lying, I’m not… sometimes I wish I were but I’m not…

What right do you have to disbelieve me. I saw you there to. I saw you in the rear view mirror as I looked in it. I see you now, sitting behind the wheel of this car, drinking your bottle of Bud. I see the fearful look of getting caught or being trapped as you look into my eyes and I look into yours. Stop looking me in the eyes, I assert one last time as I take a sip out of my bottle and turn on the radio…

Part 3: Sleeping

She lay there dying
Wires attatched to
Her small frame
Her head rested in pillows
No one knew
Who was to blame

Her brain waves were rampant
But the comma had its hold
She might never wake up
Her poor parents were told
She had casts on every limb
Broken shards of bone
Need mending
And blood
She needed blood

And the question they all asked
Was what kind of monster
Could do this to a child
A 6 year old little girl
Just starting her life
And yeah there were excuses
And gods to curse and blame
And maybe accidents just happen
But not to them they say

She lays there peacefully dreaming
They know not of what
And as the days, weeks,
Moths and years rolled by
They lost hope of their little girl
Ever waking up

She murmers in her sleep
She once sang a song
And though that sleep is deep
Her parents tell her whats new
Whats going on

The man who hit her got away
It was dark and raining
The cops couldn't see
Just another poor little girl
Got hit in the street

So she lays there sleeping
Of what
Her parents know not
But we dear reader do
She lay there sleeping dreaming
Of that guilty one who hit her and ran
She lay there dreaming
Not sweetly
But hellishly
Feverishly
Of You...

Part 4: Revelations

How haggard I must look, I think to myself; unconsciously stroking the short bristly dark brown hairs piercing through the flesh of my chin. How monstrous I must seem with my bloodshot eyes and the huge purple smears under them. My hair, dis-shelved, covers my face and eyes, making me look slightly insane. I roll over out of the sterile white bed and stumble over to the cold pale ceramic sink. I splash some ice cold water over my gaunt white face and through my long dark mane, thoroughly saturating both.

I hear a voice behind me, perhaps the doctor, whispering softly over my shoulder, "How is your soul today? How heavy are your sins?" Must be a priest) I think to myself, though I can't recall asking for one to visit me. I look up slowly into the mirror to see who it is speaking to me. I see the face of the man who has haunted my dreaming and waking hours. His dark large brown murky eyes stare back into my own. I have seen him in fleeting glimpses of long forgotten memories floating to the surface of my mind and quickly dissipating like bubbles in champaigne. This man knows my secrets; I know this in my heart.
This man knows who I really am. He and I stare deep into each others souls, staring intently and relentlessly until my weary eyes break contact and I let my eyes fall back on the water running gently from the shiny chrome faucet; watching it spill into the white ceramic bowl bellow. My hands clench the edge tightly; my knuckles whiten from the exerted pressure as I try to retain my anger.
"Who am I," I ask him softly. Only silence fills the room around me. I look up again, frustrated and sad, tears flowing down my checks, and I softly plead to him to tell me please what I want to know. His silence echoes in the canyons of my heart's despair.

I am momentarily distracted as a woman dressed in white nurse’s uniform splattered with coagulated blood and the spoils of smeared food enters my room and asks in a soft feminine voice, “How are you today Mr. Doe? Any better since the accident?"

Mr. Doe I think to myself ...She must have the wrong room, I'm not Mr. Doe, My name is ...I then realize that I don't have a name or at least that I don't remember it. I look up at him through the mirror again, anger welling deep inside of my heart. He knows my name. I yell vehemently at the nurse," Get out! Get out of my room now, we need to talk alone. Get out god damn it, OUT!"

Flustered and scared, she backs out of the room quickly, cutting of her question, only asking, "we?" before the thick dark wood door slammed shut tightly.

We are alone again. My hands reach out to grasp his neck to choke the information out of him. They crash against the cold glass of the mirror between the two of us. I can see his eyes light as if he were laughing inside at my obvious folly. I beg to him again saying," Please god, please tell me who I am, I need to know. Please help me out, I know you can. Please god help me...." I fall to my knees weeping softly. The silence of the room weighing heavily on my soul.

Deep seething anger spills from my heart to my head, and in a blind rage I crawl to my feet yelling and screaming curses and obscenities. My eyes flare with the fires of hell itself as I clench my hands into balled
fists. I punch and jab, striking his face repeatedly. Broken fragmented pieces of glass fall clattering into the sink bellow.

I look down at the little shiny pieces of glass, seeing him look back up at me through the shattered mirror. He looks back at me intently, but holds my secrets to himself. I stumble slowly back to the white bed weeping softly, broken and lost, still not knowing who I am.

Scattered and broken I flail my way out of the room, stumbling down the hall. I crash into a poor short balding man and his wife crying in the hall, as they look upon this mishappen mess that I would guess to be theirs. I recognize her though I dont recognize myself. And a revelation passes through me and i realize I dare not ask who I am. I am the cause for her crumpled form. I am the cause for her eternal sleep. When My eyes are closed I know she has been haunting me. I need pills a psychiatrist and a way out of here....today.

Part 5: Ceasing

He Drives Wildly into the night
Like a crazed man who lost his mind
His alcohol soaked brain
Doesn't register a thing
He keeps on going at top speed
To get away from the cops
From which he flees
He turns around a bend
And hits the poor little girl again
"This is crazy", he thinks
Looking in his own eyes
Through the mirror
How many times can I do this
How many times
I'm tired I want to sleep
Im tired I want to die
And each time he sees her slumped there
In the rain
And red of the brake lights
He sees her staring accusingly
Staring waiting for him to die
But how he thinks
How can this end
When all it does is come
Back round again
As he turns this one last time
He hits the gas
Not the brake
And plows through
That rusted gaurd rail
To hell to flame
And as he dies
Upon his lips
He sang a song
To keep his courage
In this his end
"Behind Blue Eyes"

Part 6: Confession

I have a confession to make. I know who you are. I know who did this to you. Maybe you can't here or maybe you can, but i know sorry isn't enough. I haven't slept in 20 years, not since the day I hit you. And I don't know who I am or who I was before that day, but I don't think i ment it.

I am not here to beg forgivness. I know I am undeserving of that luxury. But one nights sleep I would hope thats not to much to ask.

I have prayed for you. Here in this church I have prayed for you to wake. To point your fingers at me and say "him." and end this battle between my heart and my brain. This is dragging me to the brink of madness. This guilt inside. It has forced me to sober but there is still a drunk killer deep inside. I know I am not worthy of salvation and I am sorry I am affraid to die. I am not a hero I cant give up my life for some one I do not know. I am not a hero.

But maybe cowards with guns who take their lives....maybe they are hero's too? I do not know what to expect after I do this. Maybe fire and hell and brimstone await. But I will leave a note to give your weeping parents some closure about this whole circumstance.

The doctors told me once that you were dreaming. That it was like you were in a deep dark sleep. And that all it takes is just one little thing to wake you up. That little thing that no one has found yet. I can only hope that some day you have a life. That all that time you slept was not a waste. That I did not take away your childhood but gave you a strength maybe instead?

Its time for me to go now. I have to go visit a friend. He has an untracable gun and a few rounds that I hope will do the trick. I wont be back to hold your hand anymore. I will not come to read to you anything else. But know that I am sorry, so very very sorry.

Part 7:

Epilogue:

I see you there
In the corner of my eye
In this hellish dark
Just after I die

I've seen those haunting eyes
Time and time again
All my life
I could never out run them

I know who you are
I went and saw you sleep
In your hospital bed
While your parents weep

I have been haunted by visions of you
These past 20 years
Your are Hell, my nightmare
My guilt, my fear

And still you chased me
In the hell of my mind
As I ran you over and over
Time after time

A begged and pleaded for you to stop
To leave me alone
Let me sleep one well rested night
But you invaded my home

Sorry is little
I understand
But now that I am dead
And you have awakend

I think maybe
Perhaps
We are
Finally even....