He sat up on the side of the bed, rigid and straight. He’d had ‘the dream’ again, and was thankful that he couldn’t remember much. He started breathing normally, and began an inventory of the items on the bedside table. Doing so reminded him that he was awake and ‘the dream’ was over.
He ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his beard. It was ‘the dream’ because in other dreams that is how it was referred to. Other residents of his night time mind knew it by name and feared it among all other things. It surprised him every time it happened, how something so intense and terrible could be created and replayed.
He would often have to touch his feet to the floor before ‘the dream’ would totally let go. He wondered if death was when his feet wouldn’t reach the floor in time.
This post is an excerpt from my book “Brief Moments: a collection of short stories” available on Amazon.com in paperback & Kindle eBook.