ironclownfish
New member
- Jun 6, 2008
- 5
- 0
- 1
What do you think of my nightmare, and how I've expressed it in words?
As I fell asleep I forgot, as everyone does while they sleep, that there is such a silly luxury as vivid reality. And, not remembering it, it ceased to exist for the nighttime as I closed my eyes, a dreamy dream in a seamy spookish semblance slipped from ambience into sight, and stealthily assaulted my solitary slumber. In my sleep I looked to a sunny sky. In a calm well-lit room now, rather than the wavy and blurred dark of non-dreaming, the daylight fell in through three tall windows on one long wall of the room. It was an expensive looking sort of room: full of stained wood and important papers. It was the kind of room that smelled like a dusty library, but had too few books to be one. The ceiling was excitingly higher than it needed to be, which gave the windows plenty of room to reach upward and let in more light, and exhibit more of the well tended grassy lawn that extended outward from the wall outside. It was enjoyably quiet, and what little sound there was would echo jubilantly within the room’s great interior.
Having tended to whatever I had intended in there, I walked humbly toward the hall. I liked the way it echoed as I walked. I stayed next to the windows on my way by, just to look at the grass. It was youthful grass; from the soft blades to the gold dandelions it looked healthy. It was the sort of lawn that—there came a wretched crackling hiss from the sky. For a horrifying instant the world was grey—…sort of grass that…one might like to lay in on a day like…I stopped and stared out the window in a confused panic. The room had shrunk and darkened around me, and it seemed like the sun had leaned in to glare at me through the window. The sun looked like a crouching beast that wanted to kill me, peering hatefully in. I was trapped in a tiny room, on a tiny Earth with the vast universe that enveloped me plotting my demise. I looked at the sun. It didn’t hurt my eyes, but it could have. Instead it wanted me to look. It wanted me to see what it was about to do.
I cracking shatter crashed into my ears. The entire sky snapped to shades of dark grey, the air became icy and thin, it became night, and still looking into the sun I could see that it had regions of pink and white. It had horrific dark patterns and hues darting across it that no star has any right to have, and all my consciousness was lost to fear. Again, it stopped abruptly. This time, though, the sky stayed mostly gray. I looked out the windows and saw snow and ice covering everything. The trees were pallid and dead. The sun was dimmer. I walked outside, desperately trying to understand why all things were ending. I did not want to look at the sun again, but I did. It looked fragile now. It looked dead. I saw it for the lifeless thing it was as it sat coldly out in space. With a sickening dread I realized what was happening to the world. I cursed myself for not keeping better track of time, for not realizing that this day was approaching, and it brought me to tears when I realized that anticipating it would have changed nothing. The star which had spread warmth for its entire life, the great provider of light and heat, of day and of living, was out of precious hydrogen. Its life was ending, and with it would end all others. It was time for death. Then, I fell downward in terror as the air froze and the violent screeching cracks of a dying star again filled the black sky.
I became gravely aware of space. The sky no longer seemed to be an endless upward entity, but a thin transparent blanket draped over the earth, on the other side of which was the black vacuum of infinite unforgiving emptiness. The emptiness moved closer to me, like the room had.
The house I stayed in that night was full of people. I’m not sure I new them all, but two of them were skeletons. I don’t remember trying to fall asleep in that house, but I remember waking up: to the sound of popping coming from another room. It was slow and sporadic: once every few seconds.
Adrenaline filled me as I inexplicably understood the noise. The people around me, some of them family, were snapping into non-existence. They were dying in a well defined order, one analogous to alphabetization but without being logical. I quaked, unable to scream as I listened to them die, the order steadily approaching my name. I ran out into the dark and the snow to the same sound coming from all directions. I then did what the rest of the population of the world was doing: forming small groups based on last name. There was no reason this would slow the steady march of deaths, but I did it with them anyway because it was doable.
As suddenly as it began, the popping ceased. I ran away alone from where I was, through the snow and into the night. Eventually I came across two people that I knew, and it saddened me to know that they would only exist a short while longer. I asked them if they had been awoken by the same thing I h
had, and one of them said yes. The other was silent, looking upward. It was quiet and sad for a while, until the one who had been looking upward remarked forlornly how dark the sky was. It was dark, but that I knew that was only the way it looked, not the way it was. I told him that we aught to go and get my telescope. It would be a long walk, but I thought there might be time. That way I could show him the stars, and he could see that life isn’t all too dark before he died.
The snow was deep and cold and wet, and it seemed to pull me downward as I pushed my steps slowly across its surface. My head sunk and my eyes closed, and all went silent even though there was no sound anyway. The hazy ambience of darkness slid across my eyes. Something was changed, and I awoke. I looked blearily out the window, and I’d never been happier to find the morning sun. I lay there, the terror of my nearly-real death slowly fading. Where had this dream come from? What part of my sub-conscious, acting of
its own accord, saw fit to combine my worst fears: darkness, loneliness, and death into such a petrifying nightmare?
As I fell asleep I forgot, as everyone does while they sleep, that there is such a silly luxury as vivid reality. And, not remembering it, it ceased to exist for the nighttime as I closed my eyes, a dreamy dream in a seamy spookish semblance slipped from ambience into sight, and stealthily assaulted my solitary slumber. In my sleep I looked to a sunny sky. In a calm well-lit room now, rather than the wavy and blurred dark of non-dreaming, the daylight fell in through three tall windows on one long wall of the room. It was an expensive looking sort of room: full of stained wood and important papers. It was the kind of room that smelled like a dusty library, but had too few books to be one. The ceiling was excitingly higher than it needed to be, which gave the windows plenty of room to reach upward and let in more light, and exhibit more of the well tended grassy lawn that extended outward from the wall outside. It was enjoyably quiet, and what little sound there was would echo jubilantly within the room’s great interior.
Having tended to whatever I had intended in there, I walked humbly toward the hall. I liked the way it echoed as I walked. I stayed next to the windows on my way by, just to look at the grass. It was youthful grass; from the soft blades to the gold dandelions it looked healthy. It was the sort of lawn that—there came a wretched crackling hiss from the sky. For a horrifying instant the world was grey—…sort of grass that…one might like to lay in on a day like…I stopped and stared out the window in a confused panic. The room had shrunk and darkened around me, and it seemed like the sun had leaned in to glare at me through the window. The sun looked like a crouching beast that wanted to kill me, peering hatefully in. I was trapped in a tiny room, on a tiny Earth with the vast universe that enveloped me plotting my demise. I looked at the sun. It didn’t hurt my eyes, but it could have. Instead it wanted me to look. It wanted me to see what it was about to do.
I cracking shatter crashed into my ears. The entire sky snapped to shades of dark grey, the air became icy and thin, it became night, and still looking into the sun I could see that it had regions of pink and white. It had horrific dark patterns and hues darting across it that no star has any right to have, and all my consciousness was lost to fear. Again, it stopped abruptly. This time, though, the sky stayed mostly gray. I looked out the windows and saw snow and ice covering everything. The trees were pallid and dead. The sun was dimmer. I walked outside, desperately trying to understand why all things were ending. I did not want to look at the sun again, but I did. It looked fragile now. It looked dead. I saw it for the lifeless thing it was as it sat coldly out in space. With a sickening dread I realized what was happening to the world. I cursed myself for not keeping better track of time, for not realizing that this day was approaching, and it brought me to tears when I realized that anticipating it would have changed nothing. The star which had spread warmth for its entire life, the great provider of light and heat, of day and of living, was out of precious hydrogen. Its life was ending, and with it would end all others. It was time for death. Then, I fell downward in terror as the air froze and the violent screeching cracks of a dying star again filled the black sky.
I became gravely aware of space. The sky no longer seemed to be an endless upward entity, but a thin transparent blanket draped over the earth, on the other side of which was the black vacuum of infinite unforgiving emptiness. The emptiness moved closer to me, like the room had.
The house I stayed in that night was full of people. I’m not sure I new them all, but two of them were skeletons. I don’t remember trying to fall asleep in that house, but I remember waking up: to the sound of popping coming from another room. It was slow and sporadic: once every few seconds.
Adrenaline filled me as I inexplicably understood the noise. The people around me, some of them family, were snapping into non-existence. They were dying in a well defined order, one analogous to alphabetization but without being logical. I quaked, unable to scream as I listened to them die, the order steadily approaching my name. I ran out into the dark and the snow to the same sound coming from all directions. I then did what the rest of the population of the world was doing: forming small groups based on last name. There was no reason this would slow the steady march of deaths, but I did it with them anyway because it was doable.
As suddenly as it began, the popping ceased. I ran away alone from where I was, through the snow and into the night. Eventually I came across two people that I knew, and it saddened me to know that they would only exist a short while longer. I asked them if they had been awoken by the same thing I h
had, and one of them said yes. The other was silent, looking upward. It was quiet and sad for a while, until the one who had been looking upward remarked forlornly how dark the sky was. It was dark, but that I knew that was only the way it looked, not the way it was. I told him that we aught to go and get my telescope. It would be a long walk, but I thought there might be time. That way I could show him the stars, and he could see that life isn’t all too dark before he died.
The snow was deep and cold and wet, and it seemed to pull me downward as I pushed my steps slowly across its surface. My head sunk and my eyes closed, and all went silent even though there was no sound anyway. The hazy ambience of darkness slid across my eyes. Something was changed, and I awoke. I looked blearily out the window, and I’d never been happier to find the morning sun. I lay there, the terror of my nearly-real death slowly fading. Where had this dream come from? What part of my sub-conscious, acting of
its own accord, saw fit to combine my worst fears: darkness, loneliness, and death into such a petrifying nightmare?