The Intrusion

Seven

(Thursday, March 15, 2018)

[Andy]

I had the strangest dream last night.

I've had strange dreams before, but not like this. This one was somehow different, almost as if it were real—more than a random sequence of images and sensations created by my subconscious mind to occupy my thoughts in the void. I know dreams always feel real when you are having them, but the thing was, when I woke up from this one, it still almost felt real.

Almost.

It started in my room...

I lay in my bed, but something wasn't right. The air held an unnatural heaviness, weighing everything down. Even my eyelids felt ballasted. I stretched them open and peered around, blinking again and again, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. The air hung in the room like a sea without buoyancy. The curtains clung to the window, motionless against the glass frame, as though time itself had frozen.

I wanted to stay in bed and sleep, but I was compelled to get up. An echo reverberated in my head, as though I was hearing without sound. Chills ran up my spine. Something called to me, a whisper in the quiet of the still air. Like the sound of mosquitoes or cicadas on a deep, humid summer night, a noise that was simultaneously silent and loud. There was something I needed to do, somewhere I needed to go.

I got out of my bed and walked through my apartment.

I knew it was my apartment. The grey shades obscuring the giant windows hung at the slight angle like they always do. The water rings on the coffee table stained the same places, like a pair of glasses staring up at me. The gap from that one tile that doesn't quite reach the dishwasher still sat there, collecting those tiny bits of plastic wrappers that get shredded off bags and fall to the floor.

I couldn't quite place it, and the fact that I couldn't tell what was different overpowered all other thoughts in my mind.

And that was when I noticed it.

Ashes.

I ran my hand along the counter in my kitchen, and grey powder coated my fingertips. Like chalk or dust, soft and fine. I rubbed my fingers together and then I brushed it off, but as I looked around I realized everything was covered in it.

Ashes coated the walls and the floor. A thick spider web of grey stretched from wall to wall, blanketing the television and the sofa. They hung in the air, entering my lungs with each breath. I reached out and closed my hand around a snowflake of soot suspended in front of my face. I brought it close to my eyes and examined it.

My legs shook as I let it go. Where has it come from?

It wasn't my apartment anymore. This place—whatever it had become—had been abandoned for decades. The furnishings decayed before my eyes. The walls darkened as though a rot had taken over, leeching into anything physical it could gain a hold on. The ceiling crumbled, raining debris over my floor.

I didn't want to go, but the echo in the air called me like a silent whisper, pulling me to leave. My limbs moved on their own, dragging me along. I fought it as long as I could, but eventually I reached the door to my apartment. My hand turned the knob, and I entered the hallway.

The walls sagged and sighed from bearing the weight of the building for so long. Ash saturated the carpet. I shivered as I ran my hand along the wall and my fingers sank into nearly an inch of grime. I reached the elevator and hit the call button, but it didn't light up. The elevator never came, so I took the stairs down instead.