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Then it happened. The warm sunlight suddenly shifted unexpectedly and became a scorching flame, singing my skin and laying me out in pain. My stomach turned, and I retched in agony. The smell of my own burning flesh filled my nostrils. I clenched my eyes, attempting to prevent myself from viewing the horror as the flame consumed my body. But despite my efforts, something forced me to keep myself in full view.
I then realized that I was not alone. “Please! Make it stop,” I shouted out loud, “for the love of God, make it stop!” No answer. I looked around hurriedly to find the visitor, the tendons of my neck cracking under the intense heat. I could see no one, only the flames dancing around me, licking what was left of my skin. Then I heard a voice. Startled, I quickly blinked my eyes.
“Get a grip, dude!” It was my roommate, standing before me as I sat upright in my bed. I looked around myself. The flames were gone, instead replaced by the comforts of my blanket. I looked him in the eye, speechless, but attempting to convey my fright and confusion. “You were just having a bad dream.”
“Bad isn’t the word to describe it,” I stammered out, finally remembering the intricate workings of my tongue. “It was horrible. It was like,” I paused, thinking of a way to describe the experience. “I don’t know, I guess, maybe like hell.” “Wow, did you see Satan or something? That could be a bad sign. I heard one time that this guy saw Satan in his dream, and the next day his wife went insane and killed herself. Really messed up.”
“No,” I replied, a bit stupefied by his rambling. “I didn’t see Satan, but I did feel like someone was watching me. Like they were enjoying watching me suffer or something.”
“Weird,” was his only response. He climbed back up onto the top bunk, turning off his clamp light. The room became dark, except for a small sliver of illumination coming from the space between the window shade and the edge of the window. A sea of darkness lay before me, with a tiny line of light running vertically along the wall. My eyes followed the line up to the ceiling, where forty or fifty plastic stars gave off an eerie greenish glow, having been recharged by the light of my roommate’s lamp. I sighed heavily, wondering just how many hours of sleep I had lost this past week. I recounted the previous nights.
Monday brought a vision of a dieing homeless girl, alone in the streets. Try as I might, I could not touch her, offer her any comfort, my warm coat. I couldn’t run to the hospital to bring her a doctor or some medication, I couldn’t phone for help, I couldn’t leave the spot where my feet were planted. I could only watch, and suffer with her. I awoke that night drenched in my own sweat, wondering what it could mean. A few hours later, I had managed to fall back into slumber, only to be greeted by a similar vision. The same girl, only this time she was even closer to death. I stood and watched as she took her final breath. Then she looked upward, and I could just barely make out a faint smile on her lips. As though she knew that she was triumphant, and surpassing the physical barriers of sickness that had for years held her down. As if she knew that she was finally free. Finally at peace. Then her body crumbled into dust before my very eyes.
Tuesday night passed without incident. I awoke the Wednesday morning feeling refreshed and ready to fail my biology exam. The day slowly dragged by, and night fell. I went to sleep, unprepared for the roundtrip to hell that I had just now returned from. I wish that I knew what was going on. Is it my inner child trying to rebel against me? I remember reading that our dreams often express our deepest, darkest feelings and desires. I truly hope that this is not the case. I would never wish to see someone exposed to the kind of torture that I felt myself experiencing.
I closed my eyes, hoping to settle into some pleasant dreams. Or to not dream at all, that would work just as well. As I waited patiently for sleep to come, my mind drifted and wandered. Was there really something wrong with me, I wondered? What was causing these strange visions? I had never before dreamed in such vivid, colorful clarity. Most of my previous dreams had been simple: running through an endless field, talking to total strangers about my past, seeing long departed grandparents. I dreamt the kinds of things that others talk about. Some nights I wouldn’t dream at all. Or at least not remember the dream. But then sometimes I would have nightmares as well. The typical stuff like falling from a high place and waking up as I hit the ground, or having some kind of B-movie monster chase me around, running slowly for my life. Sometimes I would dream that the monster was after me in my own home, and I would close a door to keep it at bay, but the door would be just barely too short to fully block the doorway. Some rare times, I would imagine that I was speaking to a friend, and the next day we would actually have the conversation. Sometimes I would walk around in my waking hours, and stop dead in my tracks, realizing that I was viewing something that had come to me in the previous night’s dream session.
I dismissed the thoughts that something was wrong and fell back to sleep. I woke up to the grinding noise of my roommate’s alarm clock a few hours later. He hopped down from his bunk, stumbled over to his desk, and slammed his meaty palm down on the blaring device, rendering it silent. He then plopped himself down in the beanbag chair in a feeble attempt to claim a few more minutes of sleep before the snooze alarm kicked in. Not having it, I climbed out of bed, rubbing my sore eyes as I made my way to my computer. I pressed the button on the monitor, sending it into a humming frenzy as it warmed up. Once my eyes had adjusted to the morning sunlight, which streamed in through the shades, I navigated through my virtual desk and opened up the morning email.
Virus Warning, blah blah blah, please warn all of your friends. Obviously a hoax conjured up by the mind of an otherwise unimaginative child left unattended at the computer. I hate parents who don’t watch their kids well enough. On to a few advertisements for pornography websites, I’ll have to set those aside for a later lonely night. Ah, here we go, something interesting. I had received a message from an old friend. I always enjoyed receiving letters from friends in other parts of the world. This particular friend had moved out to the west coast for college. I hadn’t heard from her in a few months, but she would occasionally send an email when the slave drivers, or professors as they were known at her school, would present her with a brief intermission from the drudgeries of class work. I had never seen or heard of anyone with less free time on her hands. She always seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, barely squeaking by in any of her subjects. I had remembered her as being rather intelligent, but her lack of confidence seemed to be dragging her deeper and deeper into the muck of underachievement. She said that she was having a good week, and hoped that I was too. I quickly hammered out a reply, telling her that I was having a rather shitty week, due to lack of sleep and a failed exam. I then noticed that she had attached a picture file to her email. I opened it, and smiled. I had forgotten how pretty she looked, and wished that I could be there to see her in person. The day was starting to look that much brighter.
An hour later I made my way into the sunlight, eager to satiate myself with some grub from the cafeteria. As I walked down the sidewalk toward the dining hall, I noticed something odd. At this time of the day, there were usually people leaving the cafeteria and heading back toward the dorm, because they would leave their books and bags back in their rooms to grab them before running to class. But today, I was not greeted by the replete faces of any passersby. It was oddly quiet. The wind blew softly, a stray browned leaf flew by. A shrill wail filled my ears, and immediately I knew something was terribly wrong. It seemed to be coming from the parking lot on the other side of the cafeteria. I quickened my pace. I could just barely make out a cry, “Someone get help!” I dropped my bag to the ground and sprinted as fast as my legs would carry me toward the corner of the building. I quickly stopped, as a girl emerged from behind the corner, sobbing and mumbling something to herself. She didn’t seem to notice me and kept running back toward the dorm. I jumped into action, rounding the corner. After the dream that I had dreamt the previous night, you would think that I would be prepared for such a scene. A small crowd was gathered around a man who lay on his back. I could see a pool of blood flowing toward an open space, probably where the girl that I just passed had previously been standing. As I drew nearer, I could see that the source of the dark liquid was his left arm, which bore a long gash. He gritted his teeth, bobbing his head back and forth, seemingly trying his best to ignore the pain. Just viewing it made my own arm hurt. “Does anyone know first aid?” I shouted to the crowd. Judging by their stumped facial expressions, I assumed that they hadn’t paid much attention in health class. I approached the victim, slowly bending down to get a closer look at the wound. I could barely make out a bone fragment protruding from the gash. I shuddered quite visibly. “Alright, we need to keep your arm still. Does anyone have anything we can use to make a splint?”
I could hear a siren not too far off in the distance. Doors slammed. People running. Blue jumpsuits. Flashing lights. More sirens. People crying, hugging each other, saying that things will be all right. After a while the crowd had dissipated, and we all went on with our lives. I went back, retrieved my forgotten bag, and continued toward the cafeteria.
I walked in upon a group of guys all standing around watching another guy who seemed to be performing some sort of dance. Upon closer inspection, I realized that he was not dancing, but rather acting out some story. What had seemed to be the Running Man ended up being just visualization.
“And then this dude comes out of nowhere,” he exclaimed, jumping slightly into the air and landing with his legs spread in a low crouch, arms extended to the sides. “He runs up to us, and he’s like, give me all your cash!” He then brought his right arm forward, fingers wrapped around an invisible object. “I’ve got a knife! Don’t make me use it!”
“Did he really say that?” One of the onlookers asked. “Um, I think he did,” the performer replied. “Anyway, Bob’s like no way, and he tries to punch the guy in the face,” he articulated with a swing of his left arm around to the right in front of himself, “and the guy just grabs his arm,” as he took his right arm in his left hand, “and went like this.” Left hand released right arm, right hand again took the pose of holding some object, presumably the knife, and slashed down through the area where the arm had just been. The group of observers all made an “oooo” face, slightly turning their heads away and cringing in imagined pain. “Bob was bleeding pretty bad,” was the last thing I heard as I made my way into the main entrance. I was glad to have not seen firsthand the conflict leading to the injury, and wondered how such a savage individual could have been allowed onto our otherwise peaceful campus.
After eating my fill, I got up to leave for class. “Hey, Rich,” a familiar voice bellowed out from behind. It was my roommate. “You going to class?”
“Yes, I was just about to head out,” I replied. I knew what was coming. My roommate would ask if I could perhaps help his friend with some homework later that afternoon, as she was in one of my classes. “Well, do you think, you know…”
“Not a problem,” I replied, beating him to the punch.
“OK, thanks bro!” he shouted as he walked away, nearly bumping into another cafeteria patron. I chuckled to myself as I made my way toward the exit. When I reached the tray drop-off, I ran into a familiar face. “Good morning, Ricky,” she said, smiling at me with those big lips.
“Good morning, Cindy,” I replied. How such an incredible moron as my roommate could have such a hot girlfriend astounded me on a daily basis. “Frank just asked me,” I began, but she cut me off.
“Yeah, he said he would, but honestly I think I can manage this one on my own. I keep telling him I’ll be fine, but he never listens, you know?” Some of the fluorescent light from the fixtures above shimmered in her hair as she tossed her head back. I grinned, knowing the routine. It would take her at least a few hours of work on the assignment before the futility of spending a minute more of her precious time on such a trivial thing as homework would hit her. Then she’d come begging for help.
“Well, ok, if you think you can handle it that’s cool. I’ll probably be going out this evening anyway.”
“Oh wait, what’s your pager number again?” came the response. I was laughing out loud on the inside.
A few hours went by in the normal morning class fashion. Sit in the back of the lecture room; try not to fall asleep during the all-important lecture. The fact that the guys next to me were playing some games on their notebook computer and giggling in delight helped keep me awake and somewhat attentive. My mind wandered all through the lecture. Somehow my thoughts constantly strayed back to the dream from the night before. Remembering the horror brought shivers down my spine. I could not remember a time when I had been more frightened. What if I never again got a decent night of sleep? How would I survive? I quickly dismissed the notion. Looking back down to the front of the auditorium, I realized that the professor was announcing the next homework assignment. Good, I thought, at least I would have something to take my mind off the dreams.
Once the class was over, I quickly got up and left the room. Swimming through the sea of bodies in the hallway, everyone was hustling and bustling to reach their next destination and somehow get through the day. As I exited the lecture hall, the brilliant light of the mid-afternoon sun blinded me for a moment. I raised my hand to my brow to shield the light. Looking down at myself, I was pleased to find that I was not burning up. I really had to get the dream out of my head. It was taking over my thoughts. As I walked down the hill toward the laboratory I made sure to take in the sights. Plenty of cute ladies were walking to class today. One of them ended up being Cindy. It was interesting how she could be the coldest bitch any day of the week, but two days before a homework assignment was due, she would always be so sweet and perky. Bleh.
“Hey there, Ricky! How’s it going?” she beamed as she strutted over toward me. Once again, the sun glinted off of her hair. The gently breeze played with her loose jacket. How long would it take her to start begging for help, I wondered?
“It’s going,” I replied somewhat nonchalantly. “French lecture was pretty boring. How’s your day so far?”
“Eh,” her face turned sour. “Not too good. I started working on the chem Homework.” I knew what would come next. “It wasn’t too bad, it’ll probably only take me another hour to finish.” Yeah, right, I thought. Multiply that estimate by at least five for a realistic timeframe. “Have you finished it yet?”
“Not yet,” I replied, “I think I’m going to do it this evening before I go out.”
“Want to get together for a little while first and compare answers? You know, cooperative learning?”
I couldn’t help but grin. Anyone with half a brain would know it was cheating, but this little tart had convinced herself otherwise. Individual homework assignments didn’t seem to be a part of this girl’s reality. I wondered how she would ever survive the real world. Maybe she’d just stay in academia forever. Graduate school, masters, PhD, and then take a teaching job. Basically spend the rest of her life on campus. But then again, I wouldn’t want to subject future students to her teaching, which would probably leave a lot to be desired.
“Well, I guess it’d be ok.” I replied. “Just as long as it doesn’t take too long.”
It ended up taking three hours. She barely had anything done when she came over, and after watching her struggle through the middle of the assignment, I was further ahead than she. So then she “caught up,” copying off my answers. Why couldn’t I have gotten a nice, reclusive, nerdy roommate? Preferably one that didn’t come complete with an underachieving honey-slut to bother me for chemistry answers once per week.
By the time she left, I didn’t feel like going out anymore. I checked my email, but the world had gone quiet. I thought about taking those “free” porn sites up on their offers, but decided against it. Instead, I would utilize the opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream… I was swimming in some water. Maybe it was the ocean, maybe a quiet lake. The cool water felt like a summer rain on my skin. The sun reflected off the waves, dancing on the ripples. A flock of seagulls flew overhead. I could see another person standing on the shore, waving to me. I reached my arm over my head and waved back. Something underwater firmly grabbed my leg and dragged me down under the surface before I could take a breath. I opened my mouth, letting out a silent, gurgling scream. It was dark. I could see little bubbles floating up around me. I felt so scared. Deeper and deeper. Darker and darker. The pressure of the water around me was squeezing the precious air out of my lungs. My ears felt as though they would implode. Deeper and deeper. My leg twisted, snapping at the knee. I gritted my teeth, groaning in pain. Another quick tug at my leg pulled me down, the pain intensifying. Looking up, I could just barely see a speck of light, the last remaining stray sunbeam hitting the surface. I shot my arms straight up and forcefully brought them down to my sides trying feebly to bring myself back up to the surface. To the cool air that my lungs craved. But the unseen force continued to drag me deeper, away from my goal, away from my salvation. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. My head felt light, as though I were hanging upside down. I tried to take another stroke toward the sun, but to no effect. My eyes slowly closed. I knew that I was losing the battle. By reflex, I gasped for a breath of fresh air. The fluid quickly seeped into my lungs. I tried to cough it out, but I had nothing with which to force the cough. I was finished, floating in the murky water. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t cry for help. Trapped in a watery cemetery. Yet, even as my last moments were upon me, I felt some form of serenity. Floating in the water felt so peaceful, as if nothing could harm me.
Two red dots appeared at the edge of my vision. They drew nearer, and the darkness around them took the form of a large fish. A fish with very nasty, sharp teeth. I tried frantically to escape, but could not force my limp body to move. The water inside my body weighted me down. The fish drew near, opened its massive maw, and took a chomp. I was now half the man I had been just before.
I opened my eyes, gasping for breath. I was in my bedroom, lying in my bed. I jumped up and ran to the mirror. My jaw dropped at the horror looking back at me, with deep purple lips and the slightest hint of blue in the cheeks. My skin felt as though I had just taken a long bath. I shook the cobwebs out of my head. What the hell was happening to me? I didn’t know anymore. It must have been another one of those dreams, but it felt so real! I looked down at my fingers. My fingertips felt like prunes. I had to get a grip on myself. I closed my eyes, and took a deep, relaxing breath. I opened my eyes, and took another look at my hands. Back to normal. Thank God.
I sat back down on my bed, and glanced over at my roommate’s alarm clock. 1:03 am. I had a long night ahead of me, and I hoped to God that it wouldn’t continue like this. I lay back down on the bed, hoping for sweet dreams to come. Perhaps I would be lucky and dream of grassy knolls and butterflies. Happy children and chirping birds.
Crumbling buildings with rickety windows. Foul smells. I stood in the middle of a deserted street. The area looked uninhabited, as though nobody had been keeping the buildings maintained for years. The air felt dusty. The pavement under my feet was cracked and bumpy from years of neglect. A large puddle of muck had formed under the rain gutter of one of the buildings. I lifted my head at the squawking sound of a pigeon roosting on the edge of an overhang. I felt a rumbling under my feet.
I turned around quickly. Off in the distance, I could distinguish the shape of a large automobile flying around a corner onto the forgotten street. It was racing toward me, faster than it should have, considering the sharp corner that it had just taken. I turned and ran away for my life. I looked over my shoulder. The car was getting closer. I jumped to the side, onto the sidewalk, and ran toward one of the ramshackle buildings. I lowered my shoulder as I neared the door, throwing my full weight against it. It smashed open, revealing a huge black vacuum. I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes wide at the sight of the dark abyss. My arms flailing at my sides, I tried with all my might to pull my weight back from the endless void. I barely managed to avoid toppling in. I turned back toward the street. The car was now nowhere to be seen. Curious, I walked back into the street. I stood in the vacant avenue for a moment, expecting the car to return at any time. I started walking down the street in the direction that the car had traveled. I continued walking down the street for what seemed like an hour. The buildings all looked pretty much the same. Similar architectural designs, although each had its own dreary yet distinguished personality. I reached the end of the street, turning around a corner, only to find more decaying buildings.
On and on I walked. It seemed as though I was walking upon a treadmill, seeing the same scenery all around me. I picked up one foot, put it down in front of the other, and repeated the process dozens of times. Lift, drop. Rumble rumble, the shockwave traveled up my leg, into my torso. I knew what was coming, didn’t have to turn around to know that it was time to run. I could hear the engine roaring behind me. It was gaining on me. I turned back quickly to catch a glimpse, judging its distance at only a few feet. It would run me down if I didn’t act now. I took a longer stride, brought my feet together, squatted, threw up my arms, and leaped into the air. The car flew by underneath me, and I landed in safety, content with my quick decision. The vision of the car rippled, and where one moment it was racing away from me, it was now heading back toward me. I could see smoke rising from the hood. I couldn’t see anyone inside driving. Ten feet. I’d have to act quickly. Five feet. Jump again? Right on top of me, too late!
The force of the impact sent me flying backward. My feet scraped along the pavement as my altitude decreased. My head slammed against the harsh pavement, sending a piercing shock through my skull. My eyes bounced around in their sockets. I tried to cry out, but found no breath in my lungs. The car approached, turning slightly away. The front wheel was now lined up with my limp body. I squinted my eyes, anticipating the pain. But nothing happened. I waited a few moments, sure that I was doomed. Still nothing happened. I opened my eyes. The pain from the back of my head was devastating. I could barely focus my vision. I looked around, and realized that the world had grown quite large. I was barely an inch tall, down at the level of the rough road. Suddenly everything started to bounce. I bounced up and down on the pavement, my head throbbing from the injury. And then I looked up to see the gargantuan car just a few short feet away. The wheel was headed right for me, I was in the middle of its path. I would be squashed like a grape. The individual treads of the tire came into view. Maybe, if I positioned myself just right, I could squeeze into the gaps in the rubber. I started to take a step, but it was impossible to attain mobility amidst the bouncing. Being insect-sized must be difficult. I wondered how bugs could survive from day to day. I began closing my eyes, anticipating the crushing pain. When my lids closed halfway, I saw a bright flash.
I opened my eyes back to their fullest, and found myself standing in the middle of a crowded bar. People were dancing around me to some strange music. The music didn’t seem to have any discernable rhythm or beat, nor did it feature any intelligible lyrics. But the patrons danced nonetheless. The bartender willed me over toward a free seat at the bar, and poured me tall mug of blood. Disgusted, I looked around at the other people sitting at the bar, with their pink and blue hair, and realized that they too were chugging down blood. I stood up, feeling as though I would retch. The room began to spin around me. All of the people stopped dancing and began to stare at me, moving in closer. Closer. They were sucking up all the oxygen in the room. I couldn’t breathe. One of them, a girl wearing all black makeup, blew a cloud of smoke in my face. I choked and coughed. Her face then contorted into a demonic shape. Huge, blood-dripping fangs protruded from her gaping maw. I screamed.
I awoke to the faint echo of my own scream, accompanied by a banging sound from the ceiling. I could hear muffled speech from above, something to the effect of “Keep it quiet down there!” The back of my head felt sore. I glanced over toward the clock, wondering if it was anywhere near morning yet. 1:04am. My head fell to the pillow in disappointment. I didn’t want to experience any more of these dreams. I was determined not to let myself fall back into sleep. I got up and moved over to my computer. I had a new email awaiting my perusal. It was another message from my old friend. I opened it up, hoping for a nice long read. Hoping for something to keep me occupied all night, keeping those awful dreams at bay. But, alas, the only text in the message read, “That sucks, hope you sleep better tonight! TTYL!” I dropped my head down into my folded arms, trying hard not to break into tears.
Luckily for me, I knew that one of my friends, one of most hardcore geeks that I knew, would most likely be up all night playing games on his computer. The lucky bastard never had morning classes, and would frequently pull all-night gaming binges. I walked myself down the hallway to his room and knocked on the door. No answer forthcoming, I knocked again. Finally he opened the door, grumbling something about the distraction causing his virtual demise. I grinned, thinking how nice it would be if the only death I ever felt was in a game world. If only he knew what it felt like to die in one’s own dreams. I sat for a few minutes, watching him play. I began to feel dizzy, wondering just how he could spend so many hours staring into the motion-sickness generator that sat upon his desk. I couldn’t tolerate it anymore, and got up to leave.
Walking back toward my room, who should I find at the door? None other than my roommate and his chick. I silently groaned to myself, knowing that to follow them into the room was to subject myself to witnessing an intense make-out session. Knowing better, I turned around before they could notice my presence, and walked toward the stairs. I quickly clomped my way down to the ground level and pushed through the double-doors at the bottom, walking outside into the crisp night air. Screaming fraternity brothers cried out to me from the distance, inviting me to share in their drunken merriment. I began walking around the campus. The soft glow of the lamps along the sidewalk seemed inviting. I cleared my mind as I walked, feeling at ease.
I don’t remember how long I walked, but it didn’t seem like such a long trip. Granted, I did walk slowly. Oh well, time wasn’t important at this point in the game. The only thing of relevance was keeping myself awake, away from the evil dreams that haunted me.
As I rounded the corner of some dark building, I saw a young lady ahead of me, walking in the same direction as I. I could faintly smell her perfume lingering in the air. The sweet smell drove me to slightly quicken my pace. As I grew nearer to her, the scent overwhelmed my senses. She suddenly turned around to face me, and let out a shrill scream. Did I frighten her so much? Or had I simply become so involved in the sweet scent of her perfume that I failed to hear the loud, fast footsteps behind me? I felt a forceful push at my back, and the next thing I knew, I was lying on my stomach. I tried to get up, but found that the air had departed my lungs. Finally I took in a huge gasp, and regained control of my motor functions. I lifted myself up and turned toward the girl and our assailant. He was a rather large fellow, using his weight to hold her down to the ground. His hand was over her mouth, trying to keep her from screaming. I had to act quickly. I ran up behind him, reaching my arms around his head, and pulled back with all my strength. A meaty arm flew back and whacked me upside the head, knocking me over to the side. I picked myself up, and threw a kick at his head, landing my foot square against the nape of his neck. He rose, towering over me, pulled back his arm and sent it on a crash course for my head. Knowing a little about physics, I had a feeling that the force of that massive paw would probably not be a good thing for my delicate head. But somehow, I knew that it was coming, and had already ducked down out of its destructive path. I countered with my own uppercut, catching his jaw and turning it up and to the side. As I followed through with the blow, turning my body and extending my arm, the brute’s body turned in the opposite direction. I finished my rotation, facing him as he slumped to the ground, unconscious. I stepped over to the girl, who was lying on the ground, frozen in terror. I offered her my hand and lifted her up to her feet. Her breathing was sporadic, and understandably so.
“Someone you know?” I sarcastically asked. She shook her head feverishly, indicating a negative response. I was a bit stupefied by the fact that vicious thugs were overrunning my lovely campus, attacking total strangers. I walked her over to one of the emergency phones with the cool blue light on top. We waited for a few minutes, and then the campus police arrived to clean up. After some questioning, the assailant was arrested, and the girl and I parted ways. Looking back on the situation, perhaps I should have escorted her to wherever she had been heading.
As I walked along the campus sidewalks, I noticed that it was becoming lighter. Eventually I passed a window of a classroom containing a clock, and confirmed that morning was indeed approaching. I headed back to my dorm room, hoping that the nightly Olympics and following afterglow would be over by this time. Indeed, I entered my room to find it empty. A note lay on my bed. It read, “Thx 4 the help! –Cindy” I immediately crumpled it up and threw it in the trash.
After a shower and shave, it was time to head to my first class of the day. Introduction to management, although I felt it would be useful someday in my career, proved to be the most boring of my classes by far. The aged professor would ramble on and on, assigning significant names to trivial daily affairs. Who could ever keep them all straight? Certainly not I. As the old man droned on about cost analysis, my mind drifted. I found myself standing in a bank, holding some object in my hand. It seemed to resemble some sort of weight from a gym. It certainly was heavy enough to be such a weight.
All eyes in the bank were focused on me. I felt uncomfortable, sweat dripping down my face. I turned my head to the side, making out a man in my peripheral vision. A man in a black leather jacket, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. He sported a short, neatly trimmed beard, and a small eagle-shaped earring. In his hand was a large assault rifle. Then the situation made sense, and I became aware of the heavy, constrictive harness that I was wearing. I lifted my encumbered hand, looking at the bottom of the object that I was holding. The trigger of the grip begged me to release it, but I knew that I could not. I didn’t want to risk death, not after coming this far through the plan. I noticed movement in my right peripheral vision, and I turned to face it, holding the detonator out in front of me, reaching it out toward the as of yet unseen person. Hoping to come across as menacing, though I was scared out of my wits. He called my bluff. He, too, had a weapon, a small revolver that he had pulled out of his pocket. A flash of light, a piercing ache in my chest. I placed my hands over my heart to stop the blood flow. Then I realized, through the screaming panic, that I was no longer holding the detonator. A hundred explosions sent my ribs flying in all directions, as I exploded. The flames quickly spread around the bank lobby, engulfing all of the innocent hostages. I could not hear their death cries, but I could feel their pain, and I screamed along with them. I could hear my own scream, somehow.
I stopped screaming as the sound of laughter drowned me out. I opened my eyes. I had become the center of attention in the lecture, drenched in sweat, my mouth hanging agape, my hands clutching my chest. The professor stood a few feet away, glaring at me with the look of a child accustomed to being the center of attention who must suddenly play second fiddle.
Later that day, I had my first meeting with the dean. He seemed nice enough, and as though he truly cared about my problem, even though he could not understand how it felt. How it felt to die again and again, to stand powerless and watch the deaths of innocents. It was becoming nerve-wracking. I glanced at my face in the mirror on his wall. Good God, the circles under my eyes were so dark in the fluorescent light. He referred me to the campus’s counseling center, saying that they were very experienced in giving therapy for problems that plagued students like myself. He also gave me a note excusing me from further classes for the day.
The first therapy session went well. I gave the good doctor the short version of my life story, stopping at times to elaborate per his requests. We scheduled another appointment for the next day. We hadn’t really gotten anywhere, but I was still hopeful that somehow I could rid my dreams of the demons that were determined not to allow me any peace. When I returned to my dorm room, my roommate wanted to know all the details of the class, having heard that I had freaked out in front of two hundred people. I told him all about the dream, and he looked baffled. “Man, that’s so weird,” was his only insight.
That night I attempted to keep myself awake again. I wasn’t going to let the demons get the best of me. Armed with instant coffee and my Walkman, I set up my camp at the lounge. By sunrise, I was a shivering, convulsing loony, blinded by the light of day. I wondered which was worse, losing my mind because of the dreams, or losing my mind from lack of sleep. I crawled back to my room to get ready for my appointment with the shrink.
That second day of therapy was a long session. I talked all about my high school days, of trying to fit in with the crowd and eventually finding my circle of friends. How one of my closest friends had moved away, taking a part of me with her. This led into a deeper discussion of my love life. I was a bit embarrassed at first, but gradually grew more accustomed to telling the stranger my deepest desires. He reassured me that I was going through normal changes. But it still didn’t explain the nightmares. He gave me a prescription sleep drug, claiming that it would help me achieve a deeper, more relaxing and refreshing state of sleep.
It didn’t.