I Would Never Dream Again

I awoke to the sound of my own scream. I felt the press of drywall against my back, as my entire body shivered unlike anything I had experienced before. I sat there shaking for a long time. It just wouldn’t end. Then I abruptly lent over to one side, messily expelling the contents of my stomach onto the floor beneath me. I went to raise a hand to my lips, only to find it already engaged with a half-empty pill bottle. I groggily read the side. Dextroamphetamine. I tossed it to the side. On a short table, above where it landed was a silent television playing static. Piled around me was an absolute mess of empty drink cans and old food containers. Pushed against one wall across from the TV, was a twin bed, with a small desk and chair at its foot. Eventually, my eyes landed on a full-size mirror, hung in the corner beside the TV, which seemed to be the only source of illumination in the whole room. In its reflection, I could see my disheveled self. I looked terrible. My long hair was slicked to my face with sweat. Bags sat heavy under my eyes. I would only have seen myself in such a state in the most terrible of nightmares. I eventually realized that the shivering had stopped. 

Slowly, I pushed myself up off the floor, letting out a deep sigh. I made my way over to the door and tried the handle, wading through the trash along the way. It seemed to be locked from the outside, so I went to the desk next. “It was that dream again,” I muttered. On the desk were some dozen or so unopened energy drinks. I quickly opened one, and brought it to my lips. As I tipped my head back to drink, however, I caught myself. “That dream?” I wondered aloud, a shiver rolling down my spine. I felt an indescribable sense of pure terror in that moment. Overwhelmed by the fear, I closed my eyes shut, slowly shuffling away. Away from what? I did not know. The drink fell from my hands, as I tripped backward, falling hard against the ground. I pushed my feet forward against the floor. Left. Right. I moved back a little. Left. Right. Left. Right. Eventually, I found myself pressed to the wall. I felt tears spill down my cheeks. I let out a stifled whimper. I had nowhere left to go. I made myself as small as possible, curling into a tight ball. I sat there crying for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, I loosened my arms from around my legs, slowly stretching my body apart. The unbearable terror that I had felt was gone by then. I could not recall what I had dreamt that made me feel so intensely, but it scared me in an entirely new kind of way. I can’t go back to sleep, I thought. I could not bear to dream ever again. Staring off across the room, my eyes fell on the drink I had spilled earlier. Right, I thought, I can drink those to stay awake. Stumbling my way up and over to the desk, again, I opened and guzzled down my first can.

That must have been hours ago, I thought. I couldn’t say for sure. The window blinds were seemingly bolted shut and there was not a single clock to be found in the whole room. I could not open the door to look outside. I sat on the hard bed with my back against the wall, staring into the brilliant light of the TV static. The channel could not be changed. I was so tired. I had already been tired when I first awoke and no number of energy drinks in the last hours seemed to do the trick. I faintly recall being awake some few days straight before eventually dozing off into the dream. I would not last much longer, I figured. Suddenly, the TV flickered off. With that, I was plunged into complete darkness. Before that, I likely had not noticed the vividness of the silence. Then, I could not escape it. The silence tickled my ears and prodded my brain. At some point, I felt an immeasurable desire to sense something, so I moved down off the bed and onto the floor. I laid down among the filth and felt. I felt the scratchy feeling of plastic. I felt the cold sleekness of the aluminum drink cans. I felt the crunchiness of chips, left uneaten. I felt the wet, carpet floor where I had spilt the drink but hours earlier. I felt the softness of the dry floor. I still had feeling, and that was enough. It was enough for a little while, at least. 

I could not stay awake any longer. I was already falling in and out of consciousness. I was conjuring images unto the world around me and hearing sounds I knew could not exist. In that way, I regained my sense of sight and my sense of hearing but for a moment. I saw the room around me from a bird’s eye view. The desk, the mirror, the bed, the desk, the door, and the window blinds. I saw everything I knew. I saw the television. Then I saw the pill bottle. Dextroamphetamine. I jolted up. Getting up onto my hands and knees, I slowly crawled toward where I imagined the pill bottle. Arriving at the TV stand, I slowly combed the floor in its vicinity. Rattle. That was a noise. A real noise. I grabbed onto the pill bottle and pulled the cap off, placing it onto the ground by my knees. A few pills fell out of the bottle onto my open hand. I swallowed them, then replaced the cap. Relaxing a little, I leaned my back against the wall by the mirror. Rattle, I shook the pill bottle a little. Now I can stay up a little longer, I thought. I leisurely turned the bottle in my hand, feeling the weight of the pills, as they slid along the inside of the container. Over and over, I turned it. Slowly I uncapped the bottle. Then I unhurriedly raised it to my lips and tilted back, emptying the bottle. It was hard to swallow, but I managed. I would never dream again.

I awoke to the sound of my own scream. My whole body was shaking. Eventually, a long while later, I calmed down a little. Rattle, I heard, as I shifted my weight. I looked down. Beside my hand, it sat, illuminated by the static of a silent TV. Dextroamphetamine, it read. A half-empty pill bottle. Yawning a little, I made my way to my feet. I shuffled through piles of trash toward the door. “It was that dream again,” I muttered, as I grabbed the handle. Weird, I thought, the door is locked from the outside. Then, I caught myself. “That dream?” I wondered aloud. A chill made its way down my spine.