The World Through Various Eyes

[2] The Dream That Never Was (Alex's POV)

The first sense that came back to me was smell. I wasn't sure what I was smelling, but it was better than complete lack of action for my five senses. It reeked of something dusty and putrid. The scent itself was unpleasant, but what it made me feel was preferrable to the absence of sensation.

My vision slowly faded back in, but everything was a massive blur. One gigantic compilation of indiscernible images, all of the same color scheme, was all that could be seen to my eyes. Did I have my glasses on? This was the first thing that came to me, since it was more than typical for me to just leave them lying around somewhere and for some reason wonder what the hell was the problem with my pupils.

I went to reach for the familiar black rectangular specs, but found my hands constrained by some sort of strange force. The harder I pushed against it, the more resistance I put between it and my forearm, the weaker I became to continue trying. Slowly, my vision became clearer, the pixels of real life falling into place to form images.

I began to see a long, white hallway ahead of me. I looked down to find my whole body tied down to a chair with primitize, tan hemp rope. Thoughts assessing how to break free flooded my mind, but were brought to a halt as I noticed a pair of long, rusted scissors by my feet. Straining to reach down and pick them up from the ground that seemed so far, my neck cracked and I went somewhat dizzy.

Like that weird sensation that rushes through your body and up to your brain when you stand up too fast. I grabbed them just barely by the end of one finger hole, and slowly brought it up to me to prevent dropping them. Thankfully, I did this on the first try, and held them in a tight grasp, ready to begin cutting away at the rope.

My stiff hold loosened as the rope responded, splaying various threads every which way. In no time, I was free. I stood up, cracking my back and rolling my neck. How long had I been here? Where exactly was "here"? I reached up, and found my glasses on my head, which would explain the clarity of everything I was viewing. They were smudged beyond belief, but there. I removed them with an unintentional flourish, and wiped them on my cotton shirt, rubbing the material back and forth against the lenses.

Striding forward, I glanced around at my location and the options that it presented. Everything in front of me was a bland ivory hue. An almost sterile cleanliness enveloped it all. Heavy, audible breaths filled the air as I searched for somewhere to go. I needed a way out of this odd place I had somehow found myself in.

So I walked.

Past the walls of white and the floors that matched, past the nothingness that surrounded me. Desperately I searched for an exit, but all I found were doorways where doors should have been.

I went through the first one I saw.

The room it led to was larger, and infinitely more colorful. All around were swirls of dark blues, bright reds, elegant purples, cheerful yellows, and everything in between. A table sat in the very center of the area. It was as if it had been placed there so strategically that the person had measured to ensure it was equally centered on opposite sides, and really was the center of attention.

I approached it, intrigued. The shape of it shifted, from square to circular, in the blink of an eye. A letter appeared on the top of it. It was blank, save for a single, dark line of pen at the bottom. It wavered, like its writer's hand had shook while writing, and was by no definition a perfect line, but something about it demanded to written on. Just a blank line expecting information.

I opened a drawer on the side of the table to find a single gel pen. My cold, pale thumb closed the drawer and pushed down on the top of the pen, which responded with a satisfying "click". A click telling me "I'm ready for use."

I scribbled my name- Alexander Swaltz. As I did this, the softly blended colors on the wall and all around me shifted to form patterns: some geometric, and some completely abstract.

I turned back to examine the note on the table. But the little bedside table, with all its side drawers, was gone. Vanished.

I spun around frantically, searching for a way back. I hadn't requested an "interactive room experience" when I had stepped through that archway, but there I was, receiving just that.

A door appeared this time, in front of my very eyes, just materializing before me. I could have questioned it. I could have examined it. I could have poked around little while longer to somehow pinpoint its origin. But I didn't. I just went with it. It was clear that the impossible was possible in this crazy land of entering and exiting mysterious, empty rooms.

This time, the door was the real deal. The whole package. For some reason, it comforted me to see the usual components of a normal door: doorknob, hinge, etc. But this hinge appeared to just attach to itself, rather than a doorframe.

I stepped through anyway, and pulled it shut. It too disappeared. Well, I was screwed if this particular room turned out to be harmful in any way.

Taking in my surroundings, I casually strolled around a bit once again. This area had purple walls, a black floor, and red paint splattered sporadically across the walls. It seemed fairly benign at first, but had a certain darkness to it. Not quite threatening, but not reassuring.

This room had far more five senses stimulation. I smelled an earthy, natural scent, like that of a forest. I could hear a soft, gentle ringing in the background, barely there. I felt cold, and suddenly somewhat unsettled.

Standing there in my short sleeved t-shirt, my worn-out jeans, and my muddy Vans, I felt powerless. This room towered over my short self, its ceiling probably miles from the floor I stood on.

A feeling of helplessness swept me away, and I, for whatever reason, panicked. Then I noticed that I actually had a reason. The room was getting smaller. The ceiling was dropping, and the walls were closing in.

Claustrophobia overwhelmed every sense I had felt before. I ran from spot to spot, hunting for a way to return to the peaceful, albeit boring, rooms. I'd take boring. I was sure of it. But boring wasn't an option.

I was stuck. The walls were now about ten feet from me on either side. The distance between us grew smaller and smaller. The ceiling barely grazed my head. I had nowhere to run. No where to go. Looking up, I accepted my fate, with tears welling up in my eyes. The ceiling closed in around me.

I screamed, my voice going hoarse and filling what was left of the room.