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The Dream

Last night I had the dream again. It always starts and ends the same way.  With a cool damp feeling at the base of the neck.  As if it would start refracting of my bones and flood down towards my toes; as my whole body would vibrate quicker and quicker until it felt like I would combust.  It always ends with me staring lifelessly at the off-brand alarm clock perched near the side of the cheap wooden end table; which I had bought last summer at the annual town sale.  Tick; tock it would sound as if to rebound into the depths of my being and ridicule me for being awake at this hour.  I’d often dream about how that conversation would go.  

Oh dear, oh dear what do we have here? the clock rings in a shrill like voice.  it seems to me that you sir have lost the time, you know you only have a limited amount of that left? 

I stare with a look in my eyes as if to say “I'll sleep when I’m dead”.

The clock stares back with its hands crossed and says, well, in the end, we all get what we deserve, remember that.

I open my eyes trying to remember what I was staring, my vision seemed faded at the edges as if I had just woken from a long slumber, then after a few brief seconds, I couldn't even remember what I was thinking about before.  I looked back at the clock (why did I use the use the word “back” I thought) it was only a quarter past two.  JESUS I proclaimed softly under my breath, as I gently cupped my face in my hands and slowly dragged them towards my throat as if to scream out in pain.  Its only been five minutes...I lay back and stare up at the ceiling while trying to count the individual marks left by the painter all those years ago.  Each stroke covering that moldy wood hiding under the grimy eggshell white paint. I can see him now, perched high up on some rickety scaffolding.  Leaning too far over the rails making it look like he was going to topple to his death on the pain-soaked wooden floors and leave a mark that the maid would grumble and mutter as she tried to clean up the mess like she always does. 

I lean on my side so I can get a better glimpse of the clock, just in time to see only another five minutes had passed.

I roll on my back and close my eyes, quietly muttering to myself if only, if only I could just get some rest I'm ever so tired and stiff. I don't know why I mutter when I'm alone it's not as if someone will hear me I pondered

A few seconds later I could feel it pouring from the back of my head. Like a brisk cold breeze in January near Geneva.  How I used to long for a night like that when I was younger; I thought before letting it take over my body while watching the darkness grow around the room like a fog during an Indian spring.  

It started the same way, like always.  I feel as if I'm walking down a long tunnel I can hear the hard soles of my boots slapping off the rough cobblestone floor, in the far off distance I can see a light, small and fleeting but somehow lighting the dark expanse that engulfs me with every step,  after what seemed an eternity in the desolate tunnel from which I hiked I came to the staircase, with the torch burning at the top, I snuggle close in order to feel the warmth from its flame attempting to cutt through the wicked wisps of wind, trying in vain to warm my body, I grasped the wooden hint of the torch and finally turned to the walls of my prison, at first glace I thought were moving as if they were made of tiny insects, after a few more minutes of peering I could tell that they were roots from a tree (most likely an white oak) why did i think that I asked myself?  I ran my hand along one of the bigger roots and felt a hum through it as if it were trying to tell me it was alive and growing, I pulled back sharply with a queer look on  my face; I thought it might be best to continue ahead and leave this quizzical matter alone, after all some questions are best left unanswered.  

As I strolled down the stairway step by step, feeling off-balanced by the uneven cobblestones, I could see a brighter light than the torch I held in my hand, I stopped for a second to listen, after a few mere seconds I could hear a sound gently wafting through the air as if a person somewhere was ringing a church bell.  But not like any church bell I’ve ever heard before, it sounded morbid and full of hate as if it had once been hung above a funeral home to alarm the dead that they had incoming visitors. As I reached my way down the stairs the light got brighter and brighter then as I passed the last turn I was blinded by the light of what I imagine earth would look like if it was burning.  A merciless mixture of reds and deep blues and white.  like a moth to a flame I drew closer and with each step, I felt as if my skin would burst and morph into a reflection of the pyre that laid lite with daemonic possession before me.  I reached out to grasp the flame and feel the warmth; I could feel the cold dead wind pressing up against me making me want to embrace the fire, to let it consumes me, to burn the darkest reaches of my memories, to cleanse myself of what the world has shown me, the evils of man, beauty in death, and the guilt of the innocent for they only watch as this world burns and withers and are the worst of this plane...I finally turn around after being lost in the inticing embers of the fire.  I can feel the flames licking my back as I stare up at the ceiling.  I close my eyes and think, now ill finally get some sleep I fall back, only to feel the flames rush over me, embracing me while cleansing every fiber of my brief and meaningless existence, A smile breaks across my face as I feel my skin start to blister and pop, at least I’ll finally get some sleep.  The last thing I heard was laughter and that dreadful bell ringing.  

I open my eyes....I cant move my hands my body shrieks.....the bell where is it coming from, I wonder as it rings in the distance.    I feel my long knotted hair hang in cold wet clumps while raindrops fall effortlessly off the ends of dark tea stained strands, I stare painfully down to the ground to see what looks like firewood stacked precariously on top of one another and below that, I could barely see anything; brownish black mud and water dominated the landscape while hurricane gust of rain flying through the air blocked most of my surroundings.  I could still manage to hear the faint whisperings of that bell... I look up and see three men shrouded in blood red robes approaching slowly from the east, the one in the middle holding a brilliantly lit torch casting shadows to dance across their faces.  The one on the left points to me with long scale like fingers as if his skin has become so old its starting to fossilize... The bell it's getting louder... the one on the right screams out in a guttural language I cant comprehend and the one with the torch approaches me as if he was waltzing down a stage and with each step, I see why they wear their hoods cast over their faces.  His eyes would cast a glow of a deep enthralling purple that makes it looks as if hell and Lucifer could ascend from their depths beneath his eye teeth glinted up like a shark waiting to pick off its next victim with a smile and a jump to his step he drew closer and closer, when he was upon me I could see his nose and skin was like that of a crocodile; glinting menacingly in the torchlight.  While smiling with his shark teeth he bowed close to my ear and whispered we all get what we deserve in the end don't you see.  and lets the torch fall into the wood that was so precariously placed before.  I saw it fall in slow motion watching it bounce of log after log until igniting into brilliant color, the flames leaped up and consumed my breath; the first moments were the worst.  Searing pain obscured my vision while trying to lash out, my body fails through the air beating my head and back against the pole of which im intwined to, before reaching out with my entire being and screaming towards the heavens Ovos Nordo Seclurm Hic and with my last breath I cursed the beasts who stood before me, as l cursed they laughed as if they were saying we know what you are,  you deserve to be with us. The bell stopped ringing. 

I open my eyes...I feel around and finally grasp my phone.  Its 4 am again I look for my clock, but it must have been knocked off the table again.  I sit on the edge of my bed holding my head in my hands breathing heavily. How long can i keep doing this I ask myself,  at least I made it through one more night I cried gently to myself.  But will I make it through the day? and if I get through the day I have to go through the night again?  Thinking like this always hurt my head I thought while reaching for my pills.  On second thought I don't need them today... they’re probably just psychosomatic...i walked begrudgingly to the washroom.  As the sink filled slowly up I stared into the mirror, I don't remember eve quite so many gray hairs or having my eyes looking sunken they look as if they were craters and my iris's were the impact crater in the middle... I looked up to the fogging mirror in time to see a flash of red and watch as blood trickled down my cheek from the corner of my eye.  I reached for my razor blade... while watching in red, my last clear thought; maybe its time for a shave? 

I closed my eyes.