The Dream

The Dream

Blood slowly dripped from my chin. The last stitch had just been completed, my mouth was sown shut. As I tried to struggle to break free from this mad man, I soon realized that my legs and arms were restrained and moving was not an option. I lied there on the operating table and a bright white light gleamed into my eyes.
A man in a doctor’s light blue O.R. scrubs and bleach-white mask started laughing. I began to cry. I felt the bloody tears run down my face as he began to stitch up my left eye. What the hell could he be doing? I thought why the fuck am I here?
As I tried to scream for help my mouth slowly tore apart. The pain was unbearable.
****
I woke up screaming and shaking with fear, warm salty tears poured from my eyes. “Jesus.” I moaned to myself, and wrapped my head in my hands. The same dream, Was something trying to tell me something or was I just nuts?
As I wiped away my tears I began to question it all, the dream, its meaning, and everything leading up to this moment. Was Mr. Sandman, himself, trying to implant me with hysteria or send me a cryptic message? I walked over to my window to contemplate it a little more, and mindlessly stare at the raindrops being cut by the interstellar beams of the moon.
I watched as the sky changed from a dark midnight blue to a light pastel pink and then to an even lighter pale blue. The bright red-orange sun took the place of the silver moon, and my day had begun. I shook off the dream, and started to get ready for school.
****
I decided that I would stop off at my best friend, Amaya’s, house, before going to school. Maybe she could make sense of the dream. Amaya had thousands of books on astrology, dreams, supernatural, and witchcraft; it was her “thing”. She enjoyed freaking the kids out at school with her voodoo, and she even dressed the part. She had an all black wardrobe, her hair was black, and she would even use baby powder on her face to make her appearance more like a ghost. She would always say, “If they are going to bet I am witch, I need to give’em more bang for their buck.”
Amaya stood on her porch smoking a cigarette waiting for Bryan, her boyfriend, to show up. As I walked up to her porch her face lightened a bit, “Hey Zee.”
“Hi.” I didn’t realize what lack of sleep could do until I started talking.
“Have you slept?”
“Not really. I had this fucking weird dream.”
“Really,” I could see the interest forming in her tone of voice.
I sat down on her porch step and explained the dream in detail.
“That is weird.”
“I know. I can’t quite grasp it. I have had the dream before. This would make it the third time in two weeks.”
“Really”
“Yeah”
“Well you know that a dream can be premonition.”
“I know that’s what freaks me out.”
“Come upstairs with me.” She stands up and unlocks her front door.
Her house smelled like patchouli and liter box. The house was cluttered with beer bottles, clothes, and trash. I always hated going into her house because it always made me feel a little sorry for her.
I followed her up the staircase and through the small door on the right. She went to her book pile in the corner of her room. She pulled out a thick leather bound book that simply had the word Dreams imprinted on the cover. She flipped through the pages with determination. “Here it is.” I walked towards her and knelt down next to her on the floor. She pointed to the entry, and read out loud. “Mouth- if the mouth is being buttoned up or sewn shut it could mean we regret something that was said.” She looked up at me for reassurance. I shrugged my shoulders, and she continued to thumb through the book. She stopped at another entry and read aloud, “Sewing- producing a new identity, changing old habits, healing.”
I stood up and looked down at her. “I don’t know.” I felt defeated. “I like who I am. I am not really interested in changing anything. So, hell.”
She stood putting the book back in its place. “If you have the dream again, write it down. I will do some more research and get back with you.”
I felt at ease. I knew I had come to the right person, “I will.”
There was one distinct knock on her front door. She ran passed me and down the stairs. There stood Bryan smiling his devious smile, “Hi Girls.”
Her boyfriend, Bryan, was even weirder than she was. Not only was he a wraith wearing all black. He would also cut himself where ever there was room on his scarred body. He called it a release of the demons. He enjoyed blood; there was a time I watched in awe as he and Amaya drank the blood from each others veins. Bryan’s explanation of the incident was sort of sweet, but it didn’t make me feel anymore comfortable being around him. He had said, “I just wanted to feel her run through my veins and run through her’s.” He then leaned in closer to me and whispered in my ear, “I wouldn’t mine running through your’s.” He licked my ear and walked away. I wanted to run to Amaya and tell her how much of creep he was, but as much as it freaked me out I felt cherished and that feeling was new to me.
“Hey Baby.” Amaya smiled and flung her arms around Bryan’s neck.
“Hi sweetie,” Bryan kissed her cheek and looked up at me, “What are you doing here?”
“Had a question for, Maya,” I answered, and finished descending the steps.
Bryan looked back at Amaya, “You want to go to the river?”
“What about Zee?”
“She can-“I cut Bryan off.
“I gotta get to school.”
“Cool.” Bryan grabbed Amaya’s arm and led her away.
****
Waking up in tears, hardly getting any sleep, it was all too much for me. Days had passed, then weeks. The dream seemed more frequent, and Amaya still didn’t have an answer.
One night I had decided that a walk would be better than sleep. I grabbed my jacket and started my midnight stroll. I had walked two blocks, and still didn’t feel any comfort. I felt eyes watching me all over. I felt the sting of the needle on my numb lips, and I felt tired. I wanted to sleep, but I knew that sleep would lead to more nightmares, and lead me closer to madness.
With my final thought everything went black, and the dream was starting to form again inside my head.
****
I woke up screaming, but this time I wasn’t in my room. I was actually in the operating room, and I was strapped to the table. I looked around me, no one in sight. The room was gently lit by candle light, and I could make out a needle, scalpel, and other various tools next to me on a metal sheet. I attempted to squirm my way free, but found it to be futile. “How’d the hell did I end up here?” I asked to myself. I didn’t want the answer.
“I brought you here.” A man’s voice replied. I looked in the direction of the appalling sound. A thin man about six feet tall with a doctor’s light blue O.R. scrubs, and a bleach-white mask walked over to me. “I’ve been watching you, Zee.”
“You have?” I felt fear in the form of tears rise to my throat.
“You are interesting.” He gleamed as he turned on the overhead light.
I became blinded; I closed my eyes as tight as I could. “You are fucking psycho!” I swallowed the tears.
“I like to consider myself wicked.” It was silent, his morbid look turned gleeful. He spoke again, “Have you ever heard the saying, dreams do come true.”
Terror filled my heart, and the tears reappeared.
“What?” I said softly.
Another person materialized in the room. I could see she was also wearing his outfit and mask. She handed the “doctor” the threaded needle that was on the metal sheet. The “doctor” pushed the needle through my upper lip. Blood began to trickle down my chin. The thread pulled into my flesh; he poked it through my bottom lip. Tears poured out of my eyes. After what seemed like hours my mouth was completely sown shut.
The two “doctors” pulled off their masks, and their faces began to unblur between my tears. It was Amaya and Bryan. As I tried to scream for help the stitching slowly pulled out. Amaya grinned, “I told Bryan about your dream. He loved it. He also told me about his infatuation with you. I was jealous.” I moaned sorrowfully. I wanted her to understand he was crazy. I wanted her to let me go. She ignored my sounds, “But he told me he wanted to make your dreams come true, and I hate denying him.” I was waiting to wake up. The pain was worse than my dream could ever portray.
My eyes were forced closed and I felt the needle tear into my thin quivering eyelid. Blood ran down my cheeks. Somebody, anyone help me, I remember thinking.