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I’ve been having these nightmares for some time now.

They’re always the same – I dream I'm in a small, grey, stone cell. I’m lying down, and I feel groggy, as if I have just woken up. Looking around, I see that I am shackled to the wall by my left arm. Looking out of the cell though the barred door. I see a hallway lit with black light, creating a purple hue on the white hospital gown I am wearing.

These are all the constants in my dreams. My captor is different. My captor never remains constant. My captor doesn't want to remain constant.


I can’t quite say who my captor is or what he looks like, but I can see a big, hulking shadow with sanguine eyes staring at me unblinkingly in my compromised state.

The way he looks at me always changes from dream from dream. Some days he stares hungrily, angrily, or in a sadistically joyful manner, just to name a few. These emotions change regardless of how my day has gone or how I was feeling as I fell asleep; they will just be there. One thing doesn't change, though; every night, I give my captor a look of fear. It is oddly saddened by this, then closes its eyes and walks down the hallway, away from my cell.

The only way I can comfort myself is by waking up. But my life has begun to change – at first, small objects like toothbrushes and car keys began appearing in totally illogical spots (once, I found my wallet jammed inside an old VCR player of mine).

Then the changes became larger. My street address, the style of my house – even my own name was changed. Yet these changes weren’t shocking as much as my revelations: the sense of “I should have known” that hit me. As if I should have always known.

These changes occurred as I woke up. The feeling of stupidity I felt after I realized their existence would turn into anger – I knew they were fucking with me. I just didn’t know what to do.

Today, however, nothing ostensibly changed, but I did have a new realization. I had to confront my captor. He is the one who is ruining my life.

I went through my day (which, for the first time I could remember, was similar to the day before) with a sense of stupidity. When night came, I felt anger. Of course I would. Today, my life was actually constant.

I went to sleep with one determined thought going through my angered mind: I will confront my captor – my captor – and fight for my freedom. Be it verbally or physically, I will win. Once I go to sleep.

So why is sleep not coming? Why am I still wide awake though I feel so groggy? Why is everything so dark? Wait… my eyes are closed.

I opened my eyes, which I had not even realized were shut. I found myself in that cell, with the thing looking at me. Its eyes, occasionally blood-red and hungry, were now faded and dulled. Could it finally be expressing sadness?

“Why are you doing this to me? Why are you haunting my dreams like this?” I asked it.

The creature continued to look at me with those sad eyes. Why wasn't it responding?

“Leave me alone!”

I tried to send myself flying at it, but I forgot about the chain binding my arm to the wall. I fell awkwardly on the floor when pain flooded over me – I had dislocated my shoulder.

My eyes watered and my vision grew red. I clutched my shoulder and screamed. The creature closed its red eyes and shook its head.

It spoke in a language that clearly wasn’t English, but I could still understand it. Its voice seemed to echo across a thousand locations, yet came from one source. Its tone was similar to my own thoughts, like when I had a “realization” after I woke up.

“Why do you feel pain?”

The pain insisted, but my mind stopped. Pain isn’t felt in dreams, right…?

The pain insisted, but it was now an afterthought. “No…”

“It’s good to see you awake,” my captor said. It turned around and walked slowly down the purple-tinged hallway.

Written by Daltsch
Originally uploaded on November 16th, 2011
Content is available under CC BY-SA