The Other Side

Back to Square One

*Beep Beep* *Beep Beep*

I sit right up in my bed, breathless from my latest dream. It was so weird and so so different that it was scaring me. I look around to find the familiar surrounding of my bedroom comforting me. I glance at the digital clock that was flashing 3:05 AM.

I groan as I look at the un-auspicious time I woke up at. I carefully slip my hand around the hand-crafted silver blade under my pillow and grip it tightly in my hands, its presence giving me comfort.

I get out of my bed knowing too damn well that I was not going to get any more sleep. I splash my face with water and all the reality came crashing down on me.

The unusual dream pattern. The Demons. The King of Hell.

I grip onto the bathroom sink as I feel the lingering pain in my knees. I blinked my eyes rapidly and take huge gulps of air. Once I calmed myself down, I go down two levels. I switch on the lights and I am welcomed with the storage room of my house. When my mom comes once a year, she stocks food and stuff for the entire time she is NOT going to be here. It was previously our basement but now... the sight of extra mattresses and pots and pans greet me. I pave my way across the room until I reach the end wall. I grip at the frame of the big painting of the tree hanging there. I am glad it was just a canvas, not a glass frame.

I flip the tiny switch beside the painting and the hooks on which the painting was hanging pulls back with a scratching noise. I have to remind myself to oil my mechanisms. This isn't supposed to make any kind of noise. As the paintings falls at my feet. I push it away. Behind the painting, the heavy metal door stands tall and strong. I bend down to turn the tiny knob at the bottom of the door. I tune it to the combination and I place my palm on the dead-center of the door. I feel the gears shifting and turning under my palm. As the door unlocks, I take in a huge breath of the deep musky of papers and books. I flick on the light and I smile at my handiwork.

A little history of how this room came to be. My parents are obviously rich. You know, they are working all year around and don't even have time for their daughter. They had a panic room built when they first bought this house. They think they are important people who need to be protected like the president. I was too young then. I grew up, I forgot all about the room because, at that time, I was too mad and upset when I saw how other parents would come to their children's games and musicals while mine were always too busy earning money. One year I was so pissed that I ripped their whole room apart.

What is the use of having their own bedroom when they were not even here? So when they came back, they were met with a bare room with paintings and art sold, their furniture donated. The wallpaper and paint scraped. That night my dad blocked my supply of pocket-money for a year. My mom decided that I was not 'worthy' of all the jewelry and makeup she had bought for me. Like I needed that. What I needed at that point was attention and support and love.

So when I started getting all these nightmares...I decided that it was time to finally utilize all the money my parents are earning. I pulled out the blueprint of the house and looked for hidden safe places in my own gigantic mansion.

All this place was finally going to be of some use. I set to work. I used the help of my "Intro to Engineering' teacher at the school. His name is Mr. Slovisk. Weird name, right?..I know that but he is a very nice person. He was delighted with my interest and was extra helpful. And lo and behold! This beautiful room came to be. Well, it was already there, I just made a few changes to it. Internet connection, water and electricity and all the basic stuff.

From that day onwards, I started collecting books and information on whatever creatures I met at night in my dreams. And by now, I have almost the whole library here. I am very proud of my work and doing this helped me a lot. You know when you are not normal and see and meet things that people don't even know exist, there is a little condolence in knowing that they can be killed.

I put out the chair and switch on my laptop. I wait as the laptop scans my face and my iris and takes in my fingerprint. As it turns on, I stare blankly at my wallpaper. It was a picture of my mom, dad and me at the NYC's Metropolitan Museum of Art. I cringe when I see my young face staring right into the camera giving the most real smile. My mom's arm slung over my shoulder and my dad ruffling my hair. My mom was smiling at my dad while my dad was smiling at me. Yeah, we had a happy-family phase. It ended almost after I got into puberty that was around 8th grade.

I blink away old memories trying to resurface and double click on the database app on the desktop. The home screen of the app opens. I am met with hundreds of files. Every dream has been documented. I am going to do the same thing right now. But I need some fuel first. I go back upstairs and get myself some hot chips and Oreos. I settle down in my safe place and start typing...