Short Stories

26)My Recycled dreams

For the last several months I've been having the same dream,

Maybe not months, probably a couple of years now that I'm thinking about it.

I'll wake up in the middle of a deserted road, pitch black but the shine from a full moon and a flickering streetlamp several metres away.

Surrounded by fog so thick I can't see off the road or a mile down it.

I can't walk, only pivot my right leg to look around at my eerie surroundings.

But recently, they've altered, changed in sometimes subtle ways.

There's been thick forests, sometimes oak trees, but mostly a type of cedar or pine.

They're always faded by the fog, but just enough that I could still make out their details.

Large ragged trunks with mangled branches and shredded bark, they looked alive yet still, like sentient statues waiting to grab me at any vulnerable moment.

Looking back, there are a few dreams that stick out to me.

One is where I saw a deer walk to the middle of the road. But it wasn't completely a deer, there was something noticeably wrong with it.

Every time it walked, its hooves split from the ground, as if they would merge or melt into it.

They sounded wet as well, like a thick muck being trudged through.

Its head, or lack thereof, is what made it unsettling.

The neck slowly faded into the fog, leaving a very heavy smoke-like trail into the air.

But there were always two slits, floating in the fog, yet they were still, as if there were eyes attached to the nonexistent head.

It would stare into me.

Not move, blink or flinch.

Simply look through me, no matter where I pivoted it would be looking at me.

Staring straight into me.

The second stood out the most, as it caused me to jolt awake and not fall back asleep.

The same environment as the previous ones,

Deep forests with heavy fog so thick I couldn't see several feet ahead of myself.

It changed when the bright moon was covered by the clouds and the only light source was the faded flickering lamp post.

I felt it first.

The trembling shook from beneath my feet, and I wasn't able to pivot like before, just frozen to the ground without a warning.

Then after a minute, I saw it.

The blaring bright lights of an 18 wheeler's high beams.

Right after, just before it slammed into me, the loud, ear-breaking sound of its horn shredded me from my dreams.

The final wasn't loud or ominous like the others,

It was eerie.

The others were quiet, but there was still wind that produced the cracking branches and rustling leaves, the buzzes and ticks from the distant lamp-post.

But this one had nothing.

Deadlight and pure silence to hear. It was almost loud.

The air felt stagnant, yet you could see the fog whipping with it. As if it blew through me.

The road wasn't visible, and neither were the trees minus the occasional stray branch that swung into view.

I had managed to unhook my leg from the ground and pivoted to look behind me.

There was only a chair, an old wooden rocking chair.

Just gently rocking to the wind.

But I could hear it.

I could hear the creaking of its joints, the splinters falling onto the ground after every rock.

It was beyond unsettling, and for once I actually wanted to move.

With the others I had no time to react, they hit and then I would wake up.

But this one felt like it lasted hours, days even.

Until I finally shook myself out of it.

I don't know if these dreams have any significance and I don't know if they have a meaning behind them.

But if they do, whether they're positive or negative, I hope I never find out.