Dreams Of The Other Side

Prologue

In my dream, I am walking down a narrow hallway with looming dark green walls. My bare feet don't make a sound on the dusty, wooden floorboards. The soft moonlight that falls upon the many garments fixed along the corridor, casts terrifying shadows ahead. I find this strange for there are no windows in the otherwise dark space.

Chills run up my arms as I make my way through the endless passage. Several times I spot doors, but when I try to open them, they are all locked. Nevertheless I bend down and peep through the keyhole of every door, even though there is nothing else to see but more eerie shadows.

Soon I lose track of time as I continue walking pointlessly down this deserted prison. It crosses my mind to just stop walking and turn right back, but it is as if my feet are moving of their own accord, unable to stop. Instead, I lose myself in thought and ignore my surroundings.

And that's when I see it. Another tall, wooden door, an exact copy of the ones I had previously encountered. I am just about to walk right by it, giving up all hope of escaping, when I hear-no feel someone or... something whispering behind it. My feet haul to a stop. For several moments I just stand there, staring blankly at the closed doorway, straining my ears to catch another sound.

For a while nothing happens, and my regained hope begins to falter. And yet I stand where I am. Whereas before, I couldn't bring my legs to stop walking, now I couldn't get them to start again.

All of a sudden a cold, bone freezing wind washes over me. And it is coming from the small lock just below the doorknob. I hadn't noticed it before, but it is different than the others I had seen. It is made of gleaming gold and the keyhole resembles the shape of a sword. It is also covered in blood.

As if this realization triggers something above my understanding, the whispers start up again and they are much louder and clearer than before. Definitely not sounds that any living human can make. My fair hair swerves around my face, pushed back and forth from the wind still coming from the keyhole.

Then, without any warning, the door slams open and a blinding light pours out of it and I have to cover my eyes with my hands. The second I remove them, however, I wish I hadn't. Because what I see in front of me, terrifies me.

A tall man with skin the color of milk is standing over me. He has no nose and only hollow dents where his eyes should have been. His hands are covered in blood and dark mist seems to be radiating out of him. I know I should be scared. And I am. Yet there is something about him, something that makes me feel more pity than fear.

The man opens his mouth as if to tell me something, but what exactly I don't get to find out, for the next thing I know is that I'm drowning in bed sheets and my own cold sweat.

As if from a distance I hear myself screaming and quickly shut my mouth. As I roll over to one side, breathing heavily, I puzzle over the weirdness of my dream. But then again, it isn't as if strange dreams are exactly a rarity where I'm concerned.

It takes one look out of my window to know that dawn isn't coming any time soon. Knowing that I won't be able to doze off again, I simply roll out of my bed and take the dream journal my "therapist" insists I keep, turn on my night lamp and begin to write.