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Just shooting the poop with Lori |
| I write stories every day. It is fun and cathartic. My inspiration is random. It could be a prompt for a contest, a conversation with a friend, or even a dream. I finish almost all of them but there are some that I fail to meet deadlines on and leave them hanging. The story below is one such item. I know how I was planning on ending it but let me hear your thoughts. The Eyes Have It My recurring dream, a face with no eyes, troubled me greatly. The details of the dream were vague as if a haze covered the place of its occurrence. Only the face was clear because of its close proximity to mine. The mouth and nose were masculine in form. The lips were turned downward in a grimace, almost pensive with a slight quiver. The nostrils were flared allowing me to see deep into the caverns of the man’s unsightly membranes. It was a view that I tried to escape by the twisting of my head. My movements were restricted by lightweight straps. My limbs failed to respond normally as if the neurons had been severed with my arms flopping like fish stranded on the beach. The dream conjured up such fear in me, not only for the unknown outcome but for my inability to fight. There was no rhyme or reason for when the dream occurred. It visited randomly for several years. My first memory of the dream was at age ten, with me waking to mother’s calming voice. Now eleven years later, the dream was part of who I was and fodder for the family jokes. As accustomed as I was to its presence in my life, I couldn’t help but feel that I would see the face with no eyes without the cover of a dream. Illusions of blank peepers on a mask of mystery shaped my destiny. With each vision, I attempted to learn more about the location and the people present. There were voices but they were distant and ambiguous. They served only to reinforce the male connection to my dream. Delivered by nostril man, I was able to make out one coherent sentence. ”This is harder to do than I thought it would be.” The statement only added to my anxiety, as it failed to clarify my predicament. The dream sequence never allowed me to see beyond the one room or the haze overhead. My sleepiness left me groggy and unable to think. It was always as if I was moving in slow motion. On Saturday, the day I finally met my dream and the nostril man, I awoke from the dream as usual. There was one small difference. Incredible pains stabbed at my right side causing me to sit upright and vomit on my bedroom floor. I was diaphoretic, as usual. The pain seemed to stretch instantly from my side to the middle of my belly. I could barely stand with the pain so intense. Placing my feet on the floor was all I could muster before doubling over and calling for my mother. She came, as she always does, to tend to me. She immediately decided that I needed to see the doctor. After being examined at the office, I was sent to the local hospital for testing. Doctor Harmon believed my appendix had ruptured and a CAT scan was needed to verify the diagnosis. We traveled to the hospital by car. I couldn’t decide if my uneasiness was due to the pain or the residue of my dream. Every movement I made seemed familiar like I’d done it all before. Even something as simple as opening the door at the hospital’s entrance stirred a memory. I was escorted to the emergency room. I didn’t have to wait long before Doctor Harmon’s suspicions’ were confirmed I was prepped for surgery. After signing papers, they scrubbed me, medicated me, and coated my abdomen with orange goo. I could hear the doctor talking to my parents, telling them he had performed hundreds of appendectomies. He walked them through the surgery and warned of possible complications as an afterthought. When he entered the room I was waiting in, he introduced himself as Doctor Jagor. The medication had started to kick in, leaving me groggy. The doctor’s image was hazy but familiar. His voice echoed in my dreams. I tried to scream but nonsensical mumbling came out. The nurse flew to my side to comfort me and telling my parents that the medicines sometimes caused hallucinations. |
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