Living A Dream

The Dream

I was in a boiler room, black floors, and water moisture dripping down a wall within the hot room that gave me a really weird feeling in my gut. I all of a sudden heard scratching nails like the way nails slowly go down a slate chalkboard. All I did was find a corner and sat down, my Dad always said if I would have a nightmare to find a quiet corner and sit down until you wake up.

 "Hahaha, that's not going to work in this dream darling," stated a mysterious voice stated. I was about to go around and see who said that, from the voice, I knew it was male for his voice was deep and alluring. I also knew that he was the one that the screeching sound came from. I sat as still as I could in the corner until a figure appeared in front of me.

"Well, that's weird? I thought you would be one of those dumb girls who would get up and look around." The unfamiliar male stated. I looked up into his appealing bright blue eyes and his figure. He had a brown glove on his right hand with knives for fingers, but he was wearing a dirty brown hat, a dark red and green striped sweater, it wasn't even close to Christmas, he also had black dress pants, with brown combat boots. But his face, It, was burned in some way, It made me laugh when I thought his face looked like a messed up pepperoni pizza.

"What's so funny, hmm tramp?" My grin admittedly left My face. I got up from the corner and pushed beside him while walking over to a rusting gray boiler.

 "I thought I got away from my mother," I said as I turned to face him.

"What do you mean?" he snarls as he walks after me and grabs my wrist with his clawed hand to turn me around.

"I thought I spoke clear enough!" I stated sourly. 

Hey! You should probably know that you don't talk to me that way." I pulled my hand out of his grasp as he cut your forearm. I was pulled out of the dream by the feeling of pain in my arm. 

I glanced down at my arm, the cuts were there, real and bleeding from my arm. I grabbed some leftover napkins left in the bathroom to stop the bleeding. Well, he didn't specify I wasn't supposed to speak like that. How should I talk to him?  I asked myself and laughed at the thought.