The story so far:
I take another drag off the Camel Light before snuffing it out in the ashtray - the over-filled ashtray that should have been emptied three weeks ago but like everything else in my life, I just never got around to cleaning it out.
I look at myself in the mirror. My pudgy stomach. My desperate need for a shave. And a haircut screaming at me.
I should probably take care of that, I think to myself.
The Shadow seems to be hanging around my apartment more than ever before. I feel it all the time creeping over my skin but like all shadows it moves and bends with the changing sun and at times disappears altogether.
Damn, the bastard. If I could catch it but only once then I would know that it was indeed not all in my head.
I need to get out more. I should get out more. There is a lot of things I should do.
I wash my hands and walk out of the bathroom making sure to stay in the sunlight. No need getting trapped in the shadows.I walk back into the kitchen and pour me a nice sized glass of whiskey – something to calm the nerves down. The first glass goes down fast and smooth. Then I pour myself another before walking over to the couch for another episode of Divorce Court.
I love me some Divorce Court. When I was married I relished the opportunity to laugh at the real life of the idiots that were picked for the show on a day to day basis. I was always amused at the unconventional lives of other married couples. Now that I’m no longer married I sympathize with the people on the show, so, it’s amusing to see people who have grown apart tear each other a new one.
Having been cooped up in the apartment all day its no wonder it only took a few moments before my mind returned to Dreamworld and the nightmare came rushing back to me.
I follow the Shadow down the desolate alley never making a sound or speaking a word. I can’t help but to follow It.
At times it was hard to follow since the fog kept causing the Shadow to disappear, but I did my best. The further we drifted the darker the back alley became making it harder to continue the pursuit. I would have lost the Shadow completely if it hadn’t stopped to allow me time to catch up before entering one of the buildings.
I followed the Shadow into the building but once in the building I had lost the It completely. I was surrounded by total darkness in which It had completely vanished.
I felt my hands along the walls by the door for a light switch. It took a few moments before I found it. It was further down the wall then you would normally expect.
An unusual effect of the disorienting Dreamworld, I thought to myself. There were sure to be more.
The lights flickered on and off as if they were warming up. My eyes took their time to adjust to the sudden brightness from having been in the dark for so long. When the shock of the brightness had finally subsided, I was struck by an even greater revelation.
I found myself standing in the middle of my apartment. Or it seemed like at some point it could have been or will be my apartment. I recognized my collection of autographed baseballs on my bookshelf – Barry Bonds, Pete Rose, and Tom Gordon, to name a few (didn’t really need the space for books). I could see my old dog-chewed recliner in the back corner (had that since the good old college days when I had a dog) but the living room furniture set was definitely not mine. The loveseat and recliner that decorated the center of my studio apartment were sand-colored with a light flower pattern. Not something I would choose mind you. That wasn’t the only thing wrong with the apartment. There were other “unusual” differences.
My pictures of the frowning clowns, which were handed down to me by my mother and thumb tacked to the walls (I never really liked to use frames), were replaced by Ansel Adams photographs and Van Gogh reprints.
Although my autographed baseballs were still in place all my other sports memorabilia was completely gone replaced by the small glass statuettes that captured the sunlight from outside and made the whole room sparkle.
What the hell is going on? Now I’m in a real nightmare.
Then I heard Someone in the kitchen. The Someone was humming a song that I knew but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It was a song from my childhood that I just couldn’t put my finger on just yet. I rushed into the kitchen where standing before me was the Shadow.
The Shadow was in what looked like my kitchen only like the rest of my apartment – wasn’t. It turned towards me and smiled. It had a large kitchen knife in its hand and was fixing sandwiches.
“Hello, honey,” the Shadow said. “I’m almost done with lunch.” Its voice was distorted but it was definitely female.
It came towards me and touched me on the arm. Its hand felt clammy and cold but at the moment the Shadow touched me its appearance began to shimmer and shake and take a form. It began to no longer look like a dark Shadow but began to look like a human – a human female! It was about five foot six inches tall. It had deep red hair. It had long, slender legs. It had green eyes. It had small ears, which peered through just a little underneath her longer then shoulder length hair. It had a tight **** and one hell of a nice rack.
It was my image of the perfect woman. It was the perfect woman and I had no idea who she was. She took a step towards me and I felt myself crumble underneath her touch. I had bent to her presence so much that I didn’t even feel it when she sliced into my arm with the large kitchen knife.
I grabbed hold of my wound and she placed the bloodied-knife to her lips and licked my blood. Then she smiled.
She smiled and all I could do was think that you aren’t suppose to be able to feel pain in a dream but at this moment I did. I tried to remember my mantra. What the hell was it? All I wanted to do was to wake up from this nightmare. The wound on my arm continued to bleed no matter what I did. Is this a dream? A nightmare?
I thought you couldn’t feel pain in your dreams.
I felt pain. A ****-storm of pain and all I could think about was - What was my mantra? I want out of this nightmare. How do I get out of this nightmare?What is my mantra?