Dynasty | h.s

Sixteen

I shoot up in bed, a gasp leaving my lips. My eyes frantically dart about the dark room, the only light source being the moon's illumination that peeks through the sheer curtains. The curtains blow so carelessly as a gust of wind enters through the cracked window, goosebumps arising on my skin.

I'm safe.

My heart pounds in my chest, my breaths heavy. My body feels cold, but it's covered in a sheer coating of sweat. I push the duvet off of my body completely, feeling suffocated by it completely. I feel like I am drowning.

I remain in a sitting position on the bed, my hands fisting the sheets as I take slow, shallow breaths. My pulse is erratic and I need to relax.

I'm safe. I'm okay.

I haven't had this nightmare in months. I thought I finally grew out of it, that it was a haunting of the past. I thought I was free.

My throat swells and it gets more difficult to breathe, I feel like I'm seconds away from a breakdown. My eyes burn with tears that I try to fight off. To prevent any of the salty liquid from escaping my eyes, I screw my eyes shut tightly. I have to keep telling myself that I'm okay. I'm not being hurt.

Dreams are far too powerful. Nightmares are even more powerful. Dreams can be soft and sweet, leaving you waking up with a small smile on your face, or even with the desire to fall back asleep just so you can hopefully relish the feeling a little longer.

Nightmares are quite the opposite. You wake up in pure panic, heaving and close to tears. Things feel almost too real. You fear falling back asleep, too afraid that you'll fall victim to the cruel dream realm. Nightmares make you suffer through your biggest fears or relive your most traumatic experiences.

Dreams and nightmares come from the same magical realm and that is something I never understood. How can the brain cook up the most magical thing and the most terrifying thing? How does the subconscious decide which poison to feed you that night?

I seldomly dream, and when I do dream, it's always nightmares. But it's not different ones, it's always the same one. I don't know what I did in the past life to deserve the karma of having to relive the same thing over and over and over again, but it's sick and cruel punishment.

My hand blindly hits the bed until the feel of the familiar silicon case against the pads of my fingers. I shakily unlock my phone and go to my favorite contacts, hitting Mika's contact. I didn't bother to check the time, unbothered by what time it is for me or her. She has always been there for me.

I bring the phone to my ear, my teeth abusing my bottom lip nervously as I wait for her to answer. "Mika, please," I plead to myself. I feel like I'm drowning. I need to hear her voice to soothe me. I need her comfort even with a fucking ocean separating the two of us.

I begin to lose hope as the ringing continues to fill my ears. She's probably sleeping, I should've known better than to try to call her. Just as I'm about to accept defeat, the ringing stops and there's some static. "Ez?" Her sleepy voice echoes through the line, "Everything okay?" Concern drips from her words.

"It happened again," I rush out in panic, "it happened again, Mika." I sound frantic, and maybe a little feverish.

"What happened?" She sounds just as panicked and more awake. I can envision her sitting up straight in bed. "Ezra, are you okay?"

"The dream. It happened again," I choke out, my efforts to keep myself pieced together failing. I let myself come undone at the seams, allowing myself to feel everything my body is begging to feel. The tears are hot and thick as they run down my cheeks. My chest heaves more dramatically as sobs wreck through.