Don't Catch Me!

Chapter 7 - What a Nightmare

Chapter 7 – What a Nightmare

I was awake.  Why was I awake?  It was dark.  Too dark.  That middle of the night type of dark.  Groaning I turned to the clock, the red numbers burnt into the back of my eyes, 2.53am.  Damn. 

I rolled over with a huff.  No self-respecting human should be awake at this time of the day.   Unless of course they had no choice, Mum was still at work.  I breathed a silent thought for her.  She worked too hard.

But why was I awake?  I never woke up willingly into darkness.  That’s why I had an alarm and that’s why I was constantly running for the bus in crazy clothing combinations.  Mornings were for sleeping, especially weekend mornings.

My mum adamantly refused to let me get a job so the weekends were my own.  Whenever I brought it up she would merely smile and say, ‘don’t be in a hurry to grow up Francis, I want you to have a carefree youth because it’s gone too fast.’ Then she would smile her I-miss-your-father smile and that would be the end of the conversation. 

I pulled the pillow over my head as I tried to push myself back into sleep.  Damn. 

I was about to change position yet again, when I heard it, a soft muffle of a sound.  Ohh that explains it then.  I pulled the pillow off my head and listened.

“Cissy, please Cissy,” the soft whimper was coming through the wall.

Ick!  He wasn’t like... dreaming about me... like that? Gross!

 “No Cissy, please no,” the voice was pleading.

I put my hands over my ears and buried my face into the pillow.

“Cissy, don’t go, Cissy please don’t,” the voice was desperate and broken.

OK, not that sort of dream then.  I stopped breathing and just lay there as still as I could, listening.  My ears stretched out for any sound, any clue from our shared wall.  

“Cissy, please don’t...”

A sudden wave of shame swept me.  I scoffed out my held breath.  Why was I listening into his dreams?  That was like an invasion of privacy, no better than eavesdropping.  I hadn’t sunk that low had I?

I pulled the pillow over my head again and tried very hard to distract myself.

“Cissy,” he moaned loudly, “Cissy don’t...” the voice turned to mumbles.

Don’t what?  Aww hell.  I was never going to get back to sleep with him bleating my name every few minutes. 

I sat on the side of my bed and considered my options. 

“Cissy, please I need you!” he yelled clearly and in total pain.

I was on my feet and standing at the foot of his bed before I could even think logically.  Only then did I hesitate.  The moonlight flooded into the room.  He was spread out on the bed.  The covers all on the floor, the sheet tangled in his long legs. 

I stood there confused.  He had spoken so clearly, he couldn’t be still asleep?  But as I watched he groaned again and flailed around as if fighting off some invisible demon.

“Cissy, don’t leave, don’t leave me,” he mumbled his sleepy face contorted in pain.

I teetered on my heels.  What should I do?  Let the dream play out and pace the floor while he fought whatever he was fighting and cried out my name in anguish?  That wasn’t very appealing.  There was something unnerving about his pain.  Each grimace, moan or laboured breath had me on edge.  I stood there watching him thrashing about and felt for him.