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magedragonfireThis is the result of the monologue thing. I don't cry that much, but while I was writing this... Merf. *shakes head, waves you on to read*
***
Nightmares
Have you ever had a nightmare that you just couldn’t wake up from?
Sleep... We normally think of it as a haven, as a place to rest, to dream, to recharge ourselves from the trials and tolls of our lives. Well, really, when we’re little children, we tend more to the dreaming part – which sometimes leads to trouble. Kids do have overactive imaginations, after all, and end up dreaming of the monsters in their closets, or the scary old neighbors turning to vampires, or something else equally vivid and horror-inducing.
But even when you woke up as a child, screaming or crying from a bad dream, you always were able to eventually calm yourself... Maybe a parent or stuffed animal helped you to dry your tears, maybe a nice lil’ midnight snack comforted you, perhaps a second bedtime story of heroes or princesses. Eventually, before you knew it, you’d be back to sleep, dreaming of happier things; playing with your friends, wondering what you’d learn tomorrow at school, exploring the world that you knew so little of from the safety of your dreams.
Never did the nightmare carry over into reality. Always, it disappeared when you opened your eyes.
Hah. Lucky tots, you all were.
What if, when you awoke from the shadows of slumber, all you recognized was a blank darkness that seemed as if it wanted to swallow you whole? You would, of course, try to convince yourself that you were still dreaming, and close your eyes, willing the real world back into its place in front of your eyes.
And in doing so, find the same darkness – but with the echo of a far-off screaming reverberating in your mind? Again, panicked, closed your eyes and tried to shut out the sounds of the screaming with your hands clasped to your ears, but found that no matter what you did, it just wouldn’t go away? So tortured, so uncontrolled – it just wasn’t right. Something was wrong, but to your hazy, young mind, you had no idea what.
Again and again, the blackness and faraway screaming continued – until, finally, when you opened your eyes, the world was there again. Fuzzy and out of focus, yes, but it was your room, your bed, the bookcase, your favorite teddy there beside your mother, who held you close to her with - ...wait, fear-filled eyes? Your brother, crying loudly, from the other side of the room that you shared? The room, turning hazy and losing its sharpness before your eyes?
The nightmare hadn’t gone yet! What was going on, who had been screaming? They needed help, you knew they did. Trying to move, but finding that your legs and arms wouldn’t respond to your brain. You stammered something, trying to make sense of the world, which was unfocusing by the moment, blurring into just shapes and colours.
“M-mommy, what...?”
And then, before you could say another word, the screaming began anew, but so much louder this time, closer to you than it had been in the darkness – and, this time, you realized, of course, that the trapped one, the one shrieking continuously, not even stopping to breathe, was you. It was beyond your power to stop it, impossible to do anything but thrash about, as if your body was under the control of a mad puppeteer, while your mother tried to stop you from hurting yourself. You just kept on, your throat turning raw, the endless screams driving on and on and on...
...Until the blackness, this time welcome, swallowed you up again, and you knew nothing more.
There are other, fuzzy images, after that...
In a fire truck, the big burly men looking down at you worriedly, held tightly in your mother’s arms. Reassuring her, then you, as they noticed your eyes blink open.
“We’ll be to the hospital soon, ma’am, just hold on.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo, you’ll be alright.”
Waking up in a strange bed, white walls, a sharp pain in your arm. Noticing the dreaded, damned intravenous line trailing out from your forearm, leading to a bag filled with a fluid that constantly dripped down into your body. You always did hate that thing. The doctor, him and his constant pokings and proddings and injections – weren’t there enough fucking needles digging into your skin already? Vampires, all of them were, vampires with those all-damned white coats and stethoscopes and needles!
Your mother, only leaving the hospital room when she had to. Your older sister, training to be a nurse, dropping in on your room when she could. Visits from your kid brother – who looked scared shitless to be in the same room as you – and worried classmates, your two best friends, who never really understood what had happened but had come to see you all the same, wishing that they had the time off from school.
Right then, you would’ve traded anything to take away the memories of the screaming, even if it meant going back to school.
...
...
...But then, you never had to worry about any of that, did you?
When you woke from your nightmares, your world went back to normal.
Mine didn’t.
***
Nightmares
Have you ever had a nightmare that you just couldn’t wake up from?
Sleep... We normally think of it as a haven, as a place to rest, to dream, to recharge ourselves from the trials and tolls of our lives. Well, really, when we’re little children, we tend more to the dreaming part – which sometimes leads to trouble. Kids do have overactive imaginations, after all, and end up dreaming of the monsters in their closets, or the scary old neighbors turning to vampires, or something else equally vivid and horror-inducing.
But even when you woke up as a child, screaming or crying from a bad dream, you always were able to eventually calm yourself... Maybe a parent or stuffed animal helped you to dry your tears, maybe a nice lil’ midnight snack comforted you, perhaps a second bedtime story of heroes or princesses. Eventually, before you knew it, you’d be back to sleep, dreaming of happier things; playing with your friends, wondering what you’d learn tomorrow at school, exploring the world that you knew so little of from the safety of your dreams.
Never did the nightmare carry over into reality. Always, it disappeared when you opened your eyes.
Hah. Lucky tots, you all were.
What if, when you awoke from the shadows of slumber, all you recognized was a blank darkness that seemed as if it wanted to swallow you whole? You would, of course, try to convince yourself that you were still dreaming, and close your eyes, willing the real world back into its place in front of your eyes.
And in doing so, find the same darkness – but with the echo of a far-off screaming reverberating in your mind? Again, panicked, closed your eyes and tried to shut out the sounds of the screaming with your hands clasped to your ears, but found that no matter what you did, it just wouldn’t go away? So tortured, so uncontrolled – it just wasn’t right. Something was wrong, but to your hazy, young mind, you had no idea what.
Again and again, the blackness and faraway screaming continued – until, finally, when you opened your eyes, the world was there again. Fuzzy and out of focus, yes, but it was your room, your bed, the bookcase, your favorite teddy there beside your mother, who held you close to her with - ...wait, fear-filled eyes? Your brother, crying loudly, from the other side of the room that you shared? The room, turning hazy and losing its sharpness before your eyes?
The nightmare hadn’t gone yet! What was going on, who had been screaming? They needed help, you knew they did. Trying to move, but finding that your legs and arms wouldn’t respond to your brain. You stammered something, trying to make sense of the world, which was unfocusing by the moment, blurring into just shapes and colours.
“M-mommy, what...?”
And then, before you could say another word, the screaming began anew, but so much louder this time, closer to you than it had been in the darkness – and, this time, you realized, of course, that the trapped one, the one shrieking continuously, not even stopping to breathe, was you. It was beyond your power to stop it, impossible to do anything but thrash about, as if your body was under the control of a mad puppeteer, while your mother tried to stop you from hurting yourself. You just kept on, your throat turning raw, the endless screams driving on and on and on...
...Until the blackness, this time welcome, swallowed you up again, and you knew nothing more.
There are other, fuzzy images, after that...
In a fire truck, the big burly men looking down at you worriedly, held tightly in your mother’s arms. Reassuring her, then you, as they noticed your eyes blink open.
“We’ll be to the hospital soon, ma’am, just hold on.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo, you’ll be alright.”
Waking up in a strange bed, white walls, a sharp pain in your arm. Noticing the dreaded, damned intravenous line trailing out from your forearm, leading to a bag filled with a fluid that constantly dripped down into your body. You always did hate that thing. The doctor, him and his constant pokings and proddings and injections – weren’t there enough fucking needles digging into your skin already? Vampires, all of them were, vampires with those all-damned white coats and stethoscopes and needles!
Your mother, only leaving the hospital room when she had to. Your older sister, training to be a nurse, dropping in on your room when she could. Visits from your kid brother – who looked scared shitless to be in the same room as you – and worried classmates, your two best friends, who never really understood what had happened but had come to see you all the same, wishing that they had the time off from school.
Right then, you would’ve traded anything to take away the memories of the screaming, even if it meant going back to school.
...
...
...But then, you never had to worry about any of that, did you?
When you woke from your nightmares, your world went back to normal.
Mine didn’t.
