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In my dream, a dream that could be described as a nightmare, it was unbearably hot. It was not a good, kind of heat; it was not the kind of heat that seemed to sooth your very soul. It was the worst kind of heat imaginable, heat you could feel in your very bones, heat that seemed to be seeping into your skin every second, heat that sent your body on fire, made it scream in protest.
It was also dark, oh, it was so dark. It was worse than what you would call pitch-black if you were in bed without a lamp or a candle to light the room and no glimmering silver moonlight shining through a window. If you were in your own room, in your own bed, at least you would have the comfort of knowing where you were, of being familiar with your surroundings, with no fear pressing down on you like a stifling black blanket.
In my dream, it was not merely a pitch-black mysterious darkness. Well, I suppose that was not entirely true. It was certainly a mysterious darkness. I could feel all its carefully shrouded secrets swirling around me, daring me to see if I was insane enough, or had the brains or guts to delve deep into the unknown. The darkness was almost as terrible as the unbearable heat.
It’s to dark to be this unbearably hot, I thought to myself. Or maybe it’s too hot to be so unbearably dark. All I know is that I can’t stand either one for much longer. I hope I wake up soon. But that hope was in vain, as dreams don’t work that way. They simply don’t end when you most want them too. Dreams sometimes seem to have a mind of their own.
I was also painfully aware that I was in a most disgraceful state, a state that my parents would never let me be seen dead in, at least figuratively. Perspiration clung to my body in dreadful sticky clumps, making me feel clammy, almost as though I had a terrible fever. My hair was loose, swinging in the unmanageable tangles and snarls that constantly got on my nerves.
Licking my dry, cracked lips in hope finding of some moisture there and being disappointed, I stumbled down to an awkward position on the ground. My searching hands found a small, smooth, oval-shaped rock. At least I assumed it was oval shaped, as the unrelenting darkness wouldn’t let me see anything, even if I waved my hand an inch in front of my face. I popped the rock into my mouth and sucked on it, like they do in the stories. The taste was so disgusting - a mixture of dirt and salt and other debris I probably didn’t want to know about - that I immediately spat it out.
I had gotten what I wanted, though. I now had a tiny amount of moisture in my mouth, however small. I relished the taste, even as I cursed my stupidity at not having attempted to clean the rock before sticking it into my mouth. But I didn’t regret it; it was so hot that I was grateful even for a bit of tarnished moisture.
I got to my feet a bit unsteadily and began to run as fast as I could while I was hindered by my unnecessary frilly petticoats. I was anxious to rid myself of this place, even if it was a place that existed only in my dream.
Suddenly I was brought to a halt as something tore at my dress and scraped down my leg. I gasped as I felt warm, stinging blood run down my leg. Abruptly, I felt my feet involuntarily slip off an unknown edge and I was falling, falling into darkness like a marionette whose strings that had been holding it up were cut at the end of a show.
I tried to scream, but if I did, it was instantly whisked away by the wind that rushed past me as I fell, down, down, down.
A sudden blinding light tore through the darkness and there was a sharp grating noise as I continued to fall . . . and ‘landed,’ safe in my bed.
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^Sig set made by me. PM for requests.
"I am he [she =P] that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death."
Last edited by Arya Undomiel on June 26th, 2008, 9:09 am, edited 1 time in total.
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