|
Dreams that Haunt the Soul |
|
|
|
|
|
|
The short time of quiet was enough to get the repressed millionaire to doze off, eyes shut and body relaxed on the softly fabricated couch. Arms resting behind his head like a make-shift pillow, Zander let himself be carried off into a state of peace. His safe place where no problems ever arose, his escape from all the s**t in reality.
He rarely dreamed anything when he slept, nothing but black ocean tides gently brushing up against the shores of his mind. And if he ever did get the chance to dream, it was usually about the day previous, imaging how things could have gone differently, or dreaming of that ‘close encounter’ with that young advisor from the office. And even though she was in danger, the thought of Salva entering his nightly visions would be a welcomed surprise. However from the start Zander knew this dream would be different than the others. His unconscious body shifted, face adorning puzzlement.
Bedroom. But not one with lit candles and dim lights. It felt fake. The carpet was rough under my feet. The walls just seemed too straight and blue. Like a bad imitation of a child’s bedroom. Even the ceiling fan that circled above didn’t make a creaking noise. Soundless and silent as if there was no air in this room to move. I rub my hand on my arm to calm my boyish nerves. The door across the room opens up slowly letting a beam of light into the dark room. Outside this room the walls were pale white like a hospital. It even smelled like one. And the man who shuts the door behind him wears a white coat like a doctor. But something inside me knows better. Even at eight, I could tell something wasn’t right. He comes closer to me and I have to look up at him to keep eye contact with his face. He looms over me, his voice soft as he reaches out to touch my face.
Zander made an indescribable sound as he rolled over onto his side on the couch. One leg fell off the side as his arms were folded tightly against his chest. His brows furrowed in distress but his face was still emotionless in his slumber.
The scene changes and the room is a distasteful one. White. Off-white with a wall dedicated to a window that I couldn’t see out of. I stare at it because it’s the only other thing in the room besides walls. No bed, no ceiling fan, no color. I’m taller now but still thin. I think I’m thirteen but no one ever really tells me. The door creaks open periodically like the hands on a clock. I look over to see someone I don’t recognize. My back is against the perpetual bland wall, my bare heels digging into the wall but I stay motionless. My eyes travel down to his hands and I notice the restraints he lets dangle from his grip. It must have been that time of day again. A static sound echoes in the room and the door behind the man shuts. He seems almost surprised. He must be new. A command struggles through the static that enters the room through the speaker on the ceiling. It only ever asks me to do one thing. “SPEAK.” Without hesitation I do just that. The words slip from my mouth like they’ve taught me and I can see the man falter in his steps. I always thought that it was some kind of play, that I didn’t really have some kind of power, but that they were all just acting for my amusement. It was a fun game to play as the man couldn’t move, his face turning into a funny looking way. The metal cuffs he had carried in with him drop to the floor as his knees land on the tile floor and I knew that I had one this game again. I smile. They would be proud of me.
His breathing is the only thing that seems to emanate from him now. No sound, no snores. Just the steady rise and fall of his arm on his side as he inhales and exhales. Zander looks at peace, almost reveling in his imaginary accomplishment. What kind of dream was this? He never had dreams about him as a child. But something happens in his dream and his arms on his arms tightened when things took a different turn.
I can’t move… My body feels numb, heavy. It’s almost like I’m stuck in quicksand. The only thing I seem to be capable of moving are my eyes and even that is a chore. But I’m able to move with these peoples’ help. I soon figure out that my arms are bound up to my elbows behind my back. My fingers flex groggily against the mesh, the movement slow. I try to talk, to get these people to listen like all those times before. To tell them to put me down and let me go but my words are muffled. My teeth brush up against something foreign and I move my mouth but their movements are restricted. Gagged, bound, and pushed to sit up against the wall, I stare ahead of me as my head slowly clears. I glance down, my eyes darting slowly and I notice that my legs are free. But when I try to move them, they just fall to the side or slide against the ground uselessly. My head feels heavy but I let it rest against the wall behind me to keep it from falling forward. My breathing comes out heavy through my nose as I stare at the door when these people left, giving me one last look. My limbs are longer than they were before and I feel taller, even while sitting on the floor. All this seems familiar, like I’ve been through this before but my mind won’t open up to it. As time goes by, I find myself being able to move again. I’m not as slow as when they dragged me in here. I flex my arms behind me but it pulls the muscles at my shoulders and neck and I immediately stop, panting through the gag in my mouth. Biting down on the plastic I try again to wrench my arms free and the leather bounds bite into my skin, making my body groan in pain.
It’s then that two women walk into the room and I feel a sharp fire ignite in my chest. I wince, head falling back against the wall in pain. They seem to laugh at me, they won’t help me, why won’t they help me? I recognize one of them and I try to talk to her, to make her listen like before. But she doesn’t seem to notice the pain I’m in. Or she doesn’t care. They talk to themselves, small whispers that I can’t make out. Their eyes keep trailing back to me, something in them that seemed to stare straight into my soul. Soon they move in close and I can’t keep my eyes open. I hear muffled yelling…. Is that me?
Heaving body rolls back over onto his back, the muscles in his neck straining as his jaw clenches shut. Fingers threaded into the cushions underneath him and crumpling in his grip. A pathetic gasp leaves his mouth as his body feels inflamed, corroding in the fire of his dreams. This isn’t right, this isn’t right, but- He doesn’t scream out, doesn’t shout “NO!”, doesn’t even thrash in it’s throes. Beads of sweat trickle down the side of his face and again he rolls over but onto his stomach, burying his head into the pillow. His fingers puncture the surface of his mattress, digging into the soft sponge just underneath.
Their touch seems to light my body on fire, their soft words like kindle to the flame. I’m panting in frustration and pleasure, arms flexing to be freed but the mesh only creaks in fake distress before pulling back together and keeping me from moving. I open my eyes through the haze and tears of want, seeing more people than before. Instead of just the two women from earlier, they were soon followed by two orderlies. I knew them. Men who looked like they belonged here more than the nurses. Their touch were different from the women who now look sedated as they stepped back to watch. One of them had trouble standing so she leaned against the wall. My vision was soon blocked by him. Hands were more rough against my skin, fingers thick with muscles instead of thin and soft. My head snapped back when one grabbed my hair and jerked back forcefully, eliciting a groan from me. My eyes prickled with tears from the pain but it didn’t hurt. It was a different pain that tore me in two, from the inside out, soul from body.
My vision glazed over as I stared up at the orderly who had pinned my head so I couldn’t look anywhere else. He seemed to stare intently at me, seeing something I couldn’t. His mouth moved as he spoke to the others, but I couldn’t hear them over the sound of my own blood rushing passed my ears. The other man who was behind me moved and stood next to the other, staring at my face. Was there something wrong with me? My awkward teen body shifted on my knees, trying to move my arms again. They put a stop to that real soon.
Before he wakes, he seems one more flash of memories that didn’t belong to him. A tall man with a crooked grin and thin fingers. He was handsome in a way that Zander couldn’t tell but he reached out and patted his head before turning him around and pushing him out of a door. That was it before the man woke up in a start, sitting straight up and looking around, gulping in air. His hand goes straight for his forehead as he looks around the dark room. He stands from his position on the couch, legs wobbly but taking him straight into the bathroom. The light flicks on as Zander turns on the sink, cupping his hands into the cold water before bending over to splash himself awake. He did this twice before rubbing his wet hand across the back of his neck and staring into the mirror. He started, his reflection staring at him with glowing brilliant fuchsia eyes. He seemed to be in shock and disbelief, staring at himself. It was just a dream right? None of that actually happened. It was just some twisted nightmare! A ******** psychotic wet dream! Zander backpedaled away from the mirror he was sure he would punch, his bare back hitting the tile wall, stopping him from his escape. He slid down to the floor, staring at the white floor like the one that haunted his thoughts. “It’s not real. It can’t be.” But the more he denied it, the more of it being reality seemed to grow.
 SikFox · Thu Jul 02, 2009 @ 06:12pm · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
