14 Jul 2013

Nightmare

He is in a cashmere bathrobe, reclining in a comfortable leather couch, reading an autobiography as he rests near the crackling fireplace. The mansion is safely shielding him from the icy cold winds outside.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is in an art museum, surveying the works hung on the bare white walls. Some speak to him from the heart with tender words. Some fail to communicate to him.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is looking around for some cereal, rummaging through the cabinets.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is furiously typing away at his desk, trying hard to reduce the workload so he could have a great vacation without having to worry about problems in the office. He knows he's this close to promotion.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is lost in the forest, wondering where the rest of the trekking group went. He doesn't know how he deviated so far from the path. Where did his compass go?

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is at a coffee shop, waiting for his girlfriend to come. Why was she so late? Did something happen to her?

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is having his daily evening jog around the blocks. He hears a noise behind him, and turns around. A cat purrs at him.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is in a casino, and on such an unbelievable lucky roll. The money is piling up. He is happy.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is lying on his back in a grassy field. The sun is gently warming his face. A cloud passes by, looking like a spaceship. No, it wasn't a cloud at all.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is running through the castle, desperately searching for the crown. The king would be mad if he didn't find it in time, and it'll certainly mean execution. Who will look after his wife and children?

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is swimming in the sea, admiring the teeming life within the waters. Teeth flashed before his eyes.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is sprinting through the alleys, jumping over fences and turning around quick corners, trying to shake off the cops on his tail. He couldn't just lead them straight back to base, but time was running out. He blindly shoots behind. A woman screams.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is in the middle of his flight to Winchester. The stewardess offers drinks, but he kindly declines. He doesn't have the appetite. The plane quivers slightly. The speakers crackle, and a young man's voice says that there may be slight turbulence ahead. Then the plane rattles and jolts. Trays fly up, luggage bags tumble out, some of the stewardesses bump their heads, and people shriek. And all this time he thinks, great, now he'll be even later for the meeting.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is crawling through the low dark caves, hoping to find an exit. He finds a light, but not from the sun, but from the centre of what seems to be a summoning ritual around a fire. He tries to keep quiet, but a not-so-small pebble rolls down the cliff he's lying on. Tap. Tap. Tap. The pebble bounces and breaks the concentration of the worshippers. They look in his direction. His heart freezes. Suddenly they all sprint towards him. His body quickly obeys his mind, which is only shouting one word: run. But where can he run? The entrance that he entered earlier is still sealed shut by the rubble. It seems the only way is through them. And so he does. He charges head first towards the menacing worshippers.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is dodging the energy blasts from the robot. His time is running out: his jetpack can only last so long on a mobile source of power. He fires his ray guns back... a glancing blow at one of the tentacles. The robot takes a swing again and he quickly avoids the attack again, but more buildings get damaged in the process. He has to think fast: what is the robot's weakness? Water? Electricity? Maybe he could lead the robot to the power station nearby, but that would mean more destruction along the way. Will the extra loss of lives be worth it? Another tentacle is fast approaching him.

He is back on his bed in his pyjamas.

He is in the darkness.

He looks around. There is no light, no sound, no warmth. Yet he sees his own body, and feels his own warmth. He can hear his own voice as he calls out for anybody out there.

He stands where he is. Somehow it doesn't seem wise to move around too much.

Red dots appear in the distance.

He intuitively steps back away from the dots.

The dots grow bigger and warp slowly.

He takes more steps backwards.

The dots get bigger, longer, narrower, and shinier.

He picks up the pace, and runs backwards.

The dots swell rapidly in size.

He realises they are eyes. He runs even faster, not daring to take his eyes off his... hers... its?

He suddenly can't move.

His body is snapped in frozen movement. He can't turn his head. He can't scream. He's forced to stare at the red eyes.

The crimson eyes are nearly occupying his whole field of vision. He can see the faint reflection of himself in the shiny eyes.

The eyes remained silent and unmoving.

Claws burst out of the eyes and lunged at him.





He is found laying still on his bed in his pyjamas.