Before I Wake

Crossing Lines

That night we crossed the boundary for the first time. After letting my mom know that I had arrived home I took a shower and climbed into bed. I wanted nothing more than to wash the night off me and get some sleep. Within seconds of lying down, I felt the heavy chains of exhaustion pulling me under and I was in no mood to put up a fight.

It seemed as if no time had passed before the sound of a familiar voice calling my name pierced the veil of my unconsciousness. I didn't remember falling asleep but I must have because when I glanced at the clock on my bedside table it read 3:30 am in large white glowing numbers almost three hours since I had first laid down.

I stared into the darkness, allowing my eyes to adjust to the faint light. I wasn't overly concerned. This was the room I had grown up in and as far as I could tell nothing seemed to be out of place.

The streetlight between our house and the nearest neighbors was quite a distance from my window situated at the back corner of my home. It did however allow some weak light to enter. It fell across the carpet in a thin bar and then climbed the leg of my desk, its greedy reaching fingers not quite able to grasp the papers that littered the cluttered surface.

By its muted tones I could just make out the overstuffed chair that sat near my bookshelf. As usual, it was piled high with clothing that had been discarded in my quest to find something to wear before going out.

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary I rolled onto my back glancing at my bedside speaker as I did so. It was silent now as I had forgotten to hit repeat on my favorite playlist before drifting off. It read 3:00 a.m. in large thin white glowing numbers across its face.

Just across the hall, I could make out my mother's light snores, and the rustle of bed sheets as she adjusted her sleeping position. Listening intently, I tried to pick out any other sound that might explain what I had heard, but there was nothing. I was preparing to blame it on my imagination and the events of the night before when I heard it again.

A low melodic voice called my name from somewhere down the hall. I had a second of uncertainty as I lay there. My mom and I were the only people in the house and she was asleep. Was chasing strange voices through my house something I really wanted to do? Also, what did it say about my mental state that I was hearing voices?

I pushed my indecision aside however when I heard it again. I slipped out of the bed and padded to the doorway looking to the left toward the stairs and then to the right toward my mom and I's shared bathroom. The door across the hall was partially open and through it, I could see my mother's prone form sleeping peacefully in her bed.

I turned back to my room still unsure and that's when my heart leaped into my throat. I was staring at myself lying in my own bed. I was curled up on my side and my hair was spread out on the pillow behind me. I was burrowed down under the covers with only my eyes and forehead showing above the quilt. I stopped and stared in astonishment, not quite able to make sense of what I was seeing. Even as I tried to wrap my head around it I could still hear someone calling from the hallway. The voice seemed to be getting further away though.

It occurred to me at that moment that I had to be dreaming. There was no other possible explanation that I could see. The voice called again and I turned back toward the door. With one more uncertain glance back at my peacefully sleeping form buried deep under the blankets I stepped into the hall. Might as well let this thing play out to the end.

I turned to the right, the direction that I thought I had heard the voice coming from. The hall was empty and the only room in this part of the hallway was our bathroom. I eased down the corridor and toward the closed door. I turned the knob slowly trying not to make a sound. When the knob had turned as far as it was able I began easing the door slowly inward.

There was a small night light burning in the outlet just above the sink. The dim light cast a faint glow around the room and threw strange shadows into the corners that the light couldn't reach.

Even with the poor quality of the light, it was apparent that the room was empty. I stepped inside and peeked through the sliding glass door of the shower but there was no one inside. It wasn't until I turned toward the bathroom mirror that I saw it.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the light but as I leaned closer I saw that the glass appeared almost transparent. It was thin and shiny like spun sugar. I tentatively put my hand out to run my fingers over the glass and watched in amazement as they broke the surface slipping easily through to whatever was on the other side. The most jarring aspect of this was the ripples that spread out on either side as if it were water and not a solid piece of glass. I held my hand up in the faint light expecting to see slashes or cuts but there was nothing other than a cool tingling sensation.

I took a step back, considering my options. In a real-world scenario, I probably would have booked it out of there without looking back, but this wasn't a real-world scenario. It was a dream. It had to be. A vivid dream but a dream just the same. Then there was the matter of the voice. Who was calling for me? What did they want and the even better question, what was on the other side of the glass?

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to do. Had there ever really been a choice I wondered to myself as I put a knee on the sink preparing to climb onto the counter. Once I was positioned above the single sink with my hands at my sides I found that I was uncertain how to proceed. Even though I was aware it was a dream I still felt anxious about what I was preparing to do.

Not wanting to go face first I tentatively put my hand against the cold surface once more. Pressing against the gelatinous mass that the glass had become, I watched in awe as first my fingers, then my wrist, and finally my elbow disappeared from view. As I pushed forward even farther into the thick liquid two things happened simultaneously. I felt my fingers break through on the other side into cool crisp air but before I had a moment to register this observation my knee slipped forward into the sink sending me reeling forward. I put my free hand out to catch myself but only came into contact with more of the thick goo that the mirror had become. Before I even had a chance to scream I was flipping forward and through the glass.

I landed hard banging the back of my head as I did so. As I rubbed my sore scalp I remembered a story I had been told as a child. The crux of the narrative being that any person who fell while in the midst of a dream and didn't wake before landing would then die in their sleep. I guess I would discover the truth of that particular tale soon enough I thought as I looked myself over to make sure all my limbs were still intact.

It wasn't until I stood and began to look around that I realized where I was. Although the positioning of the fixtures in the room was a little different there was no doubt as to where I had landed. I was standing squarely in the center of my bathroom.