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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2126292-The-Dream
Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #2126292
The door to the mind doesn't always open.
Funny thing is, I really had no idea what was coming. When you go into a coffee shop, you don't expect to be diffusing a bomb while you're there. Of course that is not what happened, however, its kind of the same. One second you're sitting at a table in a nice little bistro, the next you're tossed out of the window and right into a dreamworld that feels right, and almost like reality...
**************

Its like going straight into your dreams. Things go fuzzy and calm. You know those dreams. A hundred different places you could go. Most of them safe and unusual.

This was different somehow though. There was no going to sleep. It was in the cafe one second and in the dream the next. The dream was pleasant, though I couldn't tell you what it was about, just the feeling of suddenly being there at first.

My last memory before the dream was that I had things to do. I was going to tile my bedroom floor so that I had a work space for my art. I used to love doing mosaic work on doorways for customers. I did that free of charge because I loved to sign my floors with something.

Anyway, that is the last thing I remember before being jolted into the (dream?). I can't expect you to follow along with me as I explain what happened next, but I will do my best to describe what I saw.

At this point I find myself jolted into what I can only describe as a dream. Nothing else I know of will explain it better. I was seeing colors that never existed, patterns that had more dimensions. Only the fact that I have proof of what happened makes it something real, at least for me. I do have proof, but have hidden it away because its too messed up.

I found myself in a metal hold, or corridor of some kind. Like most of you reading this, I could tell it was not the normal submarine or stage set. Like the dream is seemed to be, I knew it was crazy or made up, but it was real. Anyone watching my dream would see it as a bunker of some kind. With a million years before or after, its easy to imagine any kind of place. I guess it doesn't really matter what that place might look like. Part of this story is imagination anyway. Its a dreamworld where everything is or can be.

I was kneeling in a corridor. It was somewhere I could not recognize, good enough. I heard screaming coming from the right. To be honest, I was a bit disoriented and it took a minute for me to understand what I was hearing.

When you first hear screaming, your brain tries to figure out what its about. Is it fear, pain, or surprise? Well, this scream was pure of pure terror. Feeling though as if I was in a dream, I really didn't feel it myself. I still felt in control, as if it was my dream.

Then the screams to my right got strange and abusive. It was like some people's idea of hell I guess. The screams were more out of despair and loss of hope. I'm not sure if you understand, but the sense of loss was its own scream. It cause me a feeling of depression and acceptance, as though that person had already been tortured so long they just didn't mind any longer. That was an idea I had never thought of before.

So, what did I do? Did I run the other way or did I walk towards the fire? I'm not really sure. Some of you would freeze in place. Some would run. Some would do what I did and run towards the sound of the misery. Maybe I am attracted to misery. Maybe I just had no fear for the sound. Its possible I took in that feeling of acceptance I had to hear. More likely, as is my heart, I would try and be of service somehow. To help. Seems such a small idea now.

So I walked, ran and sometimes stopped to listen, trying to find where and which door the screams came from. Seemed like forever before I found the door from which all the sound originated. It was a wood door, but so covered with iron inlays and letters that it was almost a maze of its own. Runic, English and Egyptian letters were all over the door. I felt a doom come over me as I approached it. I knew this was a ward of some kind. Doesn't take a genius. I've seen movies!

I knew though that I could open this door. Any one of us would say, “Its a trap”. Or, “its holding back something evil.” So, if you know you can open a door that no one else can, do you think that its what you were born for, or do you think you are the guardian?

I guess that is up to you to decide what you would do. Is there an interminable evil inside you must guard or should you open the door?

That was my decision to make. I consider myself a great shadow warrior. I mean that I don't have bad dreams or nightmares. Or didn't used to. I always had a sense of power in my dreams, always the wizard or the hero, mostly just defending my world. In this dream world I am that person. I have no doubts about myself in my dreams. I have long learned that nothing of the spirit can harm me. Only my own doubts can do me damage. What do you think is behind that door? Your own greatest fears, or your salvation?

I was pulled from my reality and led to this door. I hear screams coming from it, but they are wails more than screams. I don't know if they are demons or tortured souls. I stayed behind this door for what I know had to be at least five years trying to decide whether to open it or guard it. You might think that excessive. I did too. It was too important to just take action. Either option would have been impulsive because of what I heard behind the door. It did. It took me five long years to decide if I should free it or keep it locked up. The sounds were horrendous and grotesque. Sometimes pleading, other times angry and fearsome. Sometimes it wailed as if the world had come to an end with love so dear lost that it was unbearable to that entity.

Sometimes it seemed to seek vengeance on everything. What I heard behind that door was always one person with the most unimaginable thoughts and feelings. Sometimes more than I could handle and had to crawl into a ball and just weep till it changed.

It shadowed my own soul at times, brought me into my own dark past with emotions I thought were buried. It was too much at times. Just the amount of emotion was more than my heart could bear. I broke down for weeks at a time sobbing with the overflow. I just stayed sane because it was me going though it all. I guess I'm still sane. Am I writing? I hope so. I'm thinking it all, like a thousand times before.

But after 5 long years, I finally made a decision. I could go back to reality, or I could open the door, or I could sit there, forever guarding it. It was my choice to make a choice. Something I rarely thought of to be honest. I did come to those conclusions once I decided to make a decision. Don't tell me how you would have just either opened the door or left. That's like telling a mother with a child in a coma to pull the plug instead of waiting, just in case. It really wasn't an option.

But yes, I did make a decision. Or rather, I'm walking back to the door right now and intend to make that decision. I have made up my mind to decide. Do I let it out, do I walk in to help it? Can I help it? I guess we will see soon enough.


I push against the door, nothing happens. I push harder. Sorry. There is no keyhole, I have no key. I knock on the door. I wait. No answer. I knock harder.

A soft voice under the door says, “If you don't know me, ask why you have waited 5 years to open the door.”

I reply without thinking, because I didn't want to.

This door will always remain closed because my mind, I can't open it. I'm stuck here inside this hell. “ITS ME!” I shout, but sadly, no one can hear me. I'm sorry. I wish I could do better. But at least I have my door.



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