Spinning around on my heel I turn once again towards the clearing while pacing restlessly back and forth, though I can't for the life of me pinpoint the exact reason why, a strange, cold and prickling sensation slowly creeps its way ominously up my spine. But what bothers me even more, is that while I know I haven't had a single drop of booze, my mind feels sluggish and hazy, spinning somewhat as if I'd had too much to drink and there's something in me that says that all of this just doesn't feel right. Because no matter in which direction I look, it all seems too perfect, too symmetrical, too organised. Slowly turning three hundred and sixty degrees in a full circle, it seems to me that even the shrubs around us are growing in a pattern. One tree, two shrubs, some flax, one tree, two shrubs, some flax. Then out of nowhere, from behind me there comes a menacing voice that whispers only one word, and that is, "Run..."
A dull thumping noise somewhere close by finally snaps me out of my terrifyingly bewildering dream. As I jolt upright with a gasp, I desperately try to catch my breath before placing a hand over my chest to still my racing heart. Another ice cold shiver runs down my spine as I get the heebie jeebies just thinking about my eerie dream, as it was so creepily specific and seemed so real. 'But what does it mean?' That's the lone thought that has taken command of my brain, refusing to settle, bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball.
Knowing that I'm not going to get any sleep for the rest of the night until I figure this out, I stare down at my trembling hands and will them to stop shaking while racking my brain for the reason behind my dream. If anyone could hear my internal monologue, they would surely be confused as to why a mere dream could effect me so much. But the thing is, I am both blessed and cursed with the ability to lucid dream. As weird as it may sound lucid dreaming is when you are able to be 'awake' in your dreams, see the dream through your own eyes and be able to manipulate your surroundings with your will. Now the problem with me is that not only can I become stuck in the dreams, but they often have a deeper meaning and right now every single fibre in my body is screaming for me to wake the others up and to get the hell out of here. So now the only question left to answer is: Why?
As the unsettling feeling and undeniable urge to flee getting stronger and stronger the longer I am awake. Because of this, I look around nervously trying to see if anything seems more out of place than usual, only then realising that while I was asleep, the boys must have set up camp smack bang in the center under the tree, moving Olivia and I to where we find ourselves now. Because instead of sleeping next to where I remember the boys dropping the canoes right at the edge of the clearing when we had arrived, I am now lying relatively comfortably inbetween two of the tree's thick, gnarly and twisted roots.
Everyone else is thankfully still fast asleep and hasn't been disturbed by whatever it is that I had heard, because it means that I can gather my thoughts and try figure out what to do. Whether that be to follow my gut instinct and wake everyone up or brush it all off as just a bad dream. Because of the tree canopy and a thick layer of clouds in the sky, the moon and the stars are hidden away meaning that the only light anywhere is coming from a small dying fire a couple of meters away.
I check my watch and instantly a frown makes its way across my face, 'Two thirty in the morning. Why on earth would I wake up now? There has to be some reason.' However that line of thinking just reinforces the bad feeling I have about the whole situation, so pushing myself up into a sitting position, I strain my ears to search for whatever it was that woke me up. But try as I might, there's nothing but the lone cry of an owl in the distance that slices through the almost tangible silence of the night.
I'm about to call it a day and try to settle back down to at least make an attempt to get some rest when suddenly a dull thump can clearly be heard coming from straight behind me, echoing warningly through the clearing. What the hell was that. My blood instantly turns to ice in my veins and I freeze with my heart in my mouth, not even daring to breathe as my gut tightens with a feeling of unshakeable dread deep in the pit of my stomach.
YOU ARE READING
Remi-niscent
AdventureMeet Remi. She's nineteen. Sarcastic. Always one to rely on her own wits to keep her out of trouble - A strategy that for some strange reason never seems to work particularly well - And firm believer of that fact that love is a figment of ones imagi...
