As part of an assignment for my English major unit at university, I composed a dream text which is written below. Not the usual ‘rant’ or opinion, but rather something a little more creative that I wanted to share, so here it is:
I sat, staring blankly at the posters plastered to my wall as I reminisce on the days events. Nothing out of the ordinary really; the usual hallways and classrooms, same friends and same boring teachers rambling about useless nonsense. Although, even after a day full of what felt like nothingness, my eyes grew heavy and energy withdrew itself from my grasp.
Slivers of silver light shone through the cracks in the drawn curtains. Street lights or the moon, I couldn’t tell, but it bathed my room in enough warm light to comfort me and illuminate the caressing softness of my blankets and pillows; immersing me in a semiotic state of bliss that invited me into the depths of unconsciousness. The dream realm, where the sleepless thrive and frolic in the minds of the sleeping; I longed to be there, among the figments of my imagination; envisaging something different each night. My eyes grew too heavy to keep open, the feathers of my pillow constantly swallowing me into the warmth of the night, cloaking me with darkness and the serenity of silence.
Before I even realise where I am, I notice the dimly illuminated figure that stands faceless in the shadows, rigid and almost lifeless. If it weren’t for the ever so slight rise and fall of the chest and eerily shallow, hoarse breaths, then I would assume that the figure is not part of the living. Thin, dirty strands of hair fall around its shoulders; a mud-stained, torn dress covers a majority of its skin. I have no intention of taking my eyes off the abnormal being in fear that it would move or jolt towards me in a splurge of disfigurement and terror. From what I can see through my peripherals – which isn’t much I might add – I notice the structure and foundations of what looked to be a run-down, abandoned bedroom. The remnants of a bed frame lay scattered in the corner, cracked glass windows and moth-bitten curtains caused the poorly lit room to emanate fear. An unnervingly tall wardrobe, with both doors seemingly rusted from its hinges stand ominously beside this unsettling human figure. The scent of mould flooded my nostrils, evidence of neglect and a lack of cleanliness. Assortments of cracks painted the walls; peeled paint lay wasted on the floor. I knelt in the centre of this forgotten chamber; splintering floorboards creaking under my weight. Other than the occasional wail of the floorings, and the unnatural breathing of the figure, the only noticeable sound was the heavy beating of my heart pumping in my ears; signalling the terror and adrenaline coursing through my body.
In an attempt to better understand the scope of my surroundings – and a possible escape route – I tilted my gaze ever so slightly to the right; making sure to keep the being in the corners of my vision. A padlocked door separated me from the exteriors of this dank, unpleasant room – dammit. Daringly, I decide to unbuckle my knees and slowly creep towards the hinge-rusted door, hoping that the rust will give way under a little weight.
Bad idea.
Before I can even position myself upright, the womanly figure previously lurking in the shadows under the broken glass window begins hurling herself in my direction. I wouldn’t call it running because the way its legs moved almost resembled that of someone who had broken their legs. Bones cracking and buckling under the weight of the body didn’t seem the divert the focus of this creature; me. With its arms outstretched in a mutilation of savage cuts and lumps, it screeched a terrifying sound that sent goose bumps to the surface of my cold skin, and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I woke with a jolt. Sweat coated my face and soaked my hair. I hurriedly gazed each corner of my poorly-lit room; cautiously checking for any signs of abnormality. Nothing. It had been a very long time since I’d had a bad dream, especially one as graphic and terrifying as the one just experienced. But I guess that’s all it’ll ever be; just a bad dream.
theoRANTical 