White room painted with dreams

The White room

It was always the same. Every second ticking by with an agonising slowness. This room had no colour, no windows, no natural light, just the white bulb. The walls were bare and so was the floor. There was no life,except my own.

I am not sure how long I have been here on this colourless floor, sitting sometimes when I had the strength.

My mind would play tricks on me when I woke from sleep.

I would see shadows dancing on the walls, birds flying, or leaves falling. But those are not here, I know that all too well, there has been nothing here for a long while.

There used to be others, but they all left, one, by, one. I may not have spoken with them, but it made the time tick faster.

Sometimes I would get a visitor, here and there, but only when the room goes dark. They would visit for only a fraction of what I assume to be a minute. When they entered, they would place a small, colourless patch on my shoulder.

It would hurt, but only for a second. When they left, they took it with them.

As the patch was removed, my eyes would always feel heavy, and I would drift off into a deep sleep.

In these sleeps, I would dream like never before, each one new and unique. One time, I was on a hill, with a small cat on my lap, just staring at the vibrant blue sky, with a sun so bright. When I awoke from these dreams, some remnants of this dream would remain, and I would have a small amount of strength just to sit upright. When I would sit up a buzzing sound would play for a second, and the remnants would disappear, and I would not be able to recall the dream for quite some time.

Sometimes, the dreams were not pleasant ones. There was one where I was in a forest, but the forest was dark, with a black haze all around me. There was an occasional chittering, and I would see eyes in the sky. When I woke from this dream, I did not have energy, I laid on the ground and curled into a ball. The buzz did not sound, but there was a click. I am unsure where these noises came from, but they were always there. After every dream, I will forget after the buzz sounds, but when a beep plays, they all come at once, and I scream. I scream from the heart, all the good dreams and bad dreams. All at once I experience them. And then they're gone. Just as fast as they came, and I'm left on the colourless floor, with the bare walls, and white light.