A dream haunts me. Well, it was a dream within a dream, within a dream to be perfectly clear. This all occurred while lying beside one of my friends. I lay in my bed, all snuggled up in the blankets, yet still feeling cold, and looked up to see him sitting beside me. Natural light flowed in, reflecting off each of the not too many dust particles dancing in the warmth. This was odd, for the darkness usually still ruled the light by the time I awoke for the first time in any given day. However, the afternoon clearly ruled. He glanced up at me as I began to move. His eyes had been slowly tracing the pattern on the bottom edge of my blanket.
How easy it is for a man to be tired of waiting and discover solace in simple repetitions of shape! A sombre smile appeared upon his face. He appeared tired. How long must he have sat beside me? The fog of my mind lingered, yet slowly lifted a little more each moment. I could not recall even coming home that night. The last memory rooted in my consciousness was long gone by then. My father walked in, and seeing me awake and a little confused grumpily informed me that it was just like me to fall for the guy who would not dare tell me that something was wrong. He could not bear to destroy my smile. My father asserted that I only have nine months to live, and my friend grimaced as he tried so very hard to keep back tears, those salty drops which flowed fast and easily on many occasions from his eyes but never graced my lashes. We were left alone in silence. Neither of us even attempted speech.
Later, I walked about the kitchen and bathroom, leaving bloody footprints wherever I stepped. I glanced down at my hands and legs to see one thing: blood everywhere, covering every inch of my being. This was my curse. The blood which never ceased flowing from me would eventually kill me. My stride faltered, and I stumbled about. I could not even stand, so I sat right where I was, on the ground. After many tears finally glistened upon my countenance, I tried to stand erect once more. My mother walked in as failure attacked me and asked what I was doing. She told me to be careful. The source of tears finally evaporated, and with one massive gulp, I stood up and yelled as loudly as a sick and feeble girl can, “I will live! Do you hear? I will live.” I walked about, stumbling, being assisted by mother, as I declared over and over that I would win. I would live. I believed myself, but I also feared the inevitable. I hoped I would live.
I awoke next to my friend. My breath came in shallow, short bursts, and I grabbed his arm. My other friend sat up and asked if anyone had just had the same dream as him. The others replied affirmatively, and I feared for their sanity. However, they had a different dream than I. Theirs was a battle, from one of their favourite video games, and out of fear, I chuckled along with them and declared that I too imagined myself as epic. However, this was fallacy.
I then awoke next to my friend. I listened for a moment as I no longer heard banter about the dream world. He snored, and the others breathed heavy as if still in REM sleep. My entire body shook, not from cold, but from fear. I woke him up to ask him how long I have left to live. He spoke and calmed my nerves, but then the worst happened.
I awoke next to my friend, or under him, rather. He had rolled over in his sleep and was crushing my face with his shoulder. After a moment’s reflection from the dreams while listening to his gentle breathing, I decided not to wake him, but to lie in fear alone. This was short-lived, for I fell back asleep soon, and the dream deserted me until morning. However, it still haunts me, and I fear. Perhaps I should talk to someone about it. It felt so real, and though I carry on as if I live without fear, I am the most fearful you may meet. I cannot shake this feeling. No piano or singing has helped yet, and I fear. My stomach is twisted in anxiety, and I fear to go to sleep for two reasons: first, I do not want that dream again, and, second, I fear I will not wake up again.