The Awesomatic Adventures of Dexter Seagrave

RECOURSE! Pt. 04: Claim It, and It Shall Be So! [Story No. 06]

"Dexter...," calls out the reverberating, ethereal, voice of a mysterious girl. The soundwaves she's producing are somehow making me tremble and sway. It feels like I've been lifted off the ground, or like I'm teetering on the edge of a bough. Frightening, especially since I'm sleeping and can't open my eyes.

"Mmmuuummmrrrffgggrrrbbl... grrrbbbl...," is all I can seem to utter in response. This sleep is feeling too good.

"♪ Deeeeexter... ♪" she calls out again, this time attempting to be gentle and melodic. She sounds sweet and very inviting, but I still don't want to budge. I just want to sleep. I'm comfortable right now.

"Noooo... I wanted to go to Jet's Games today, not church... grrrrbbbl..."

I don't know where that came from, but I see that I'm talking in my sleep. That means this is some good, goddamn rest! Perfect!

"DEXTER! WAKE YO' OL' BRAMBLE-HEADED-ASS UP, BOY!" she roars. This time her voice hits me like a concussive wave and sends me flying into a tough, flesh-like wall. I swiftly drop to the floor (which is also fleshy, but softer) with a heavy thud.

"OWWWW! Wh-what's going on?! Where am I?!"

"Weeeeeell, it would appear that you're, or rather we're, inside of your unconscious mind. A place where you have somehow still found time to sleep. Fuckin' lazy-ass."

"Oh...? I see. Wait, who are you, and why are you inside of my head? Also - I'M NOT LAZY!"

"Ugh! Do you seriously not recognize me, nigga?! ANNNNND-YOU DEFINITELY FUCKIN' ARE!"

"Well, ummm, I'm not familiar with any giant, wavering, disembodied heads with blazing royal blue eyes and pulsating, golden veins running throughout their face," I retort, scratching my head. That was a fuckin' mouthful.

This young woman... her voice, though unusual, is captivating and oddly reminiscent. I'm puzzled however, because something about her seems welcoming and comfortable, for lack of a better way to put it. I feel like I should be able to recognize who she is, but I'm drawing blanks. Fuck her for still implying I'm lazy though. I'm never that.

"Ugh! Bruh! It's Zuri, nigga!" No sooner had she said that, did all of my memories of the past several hours come rushing back.

Assailed by a quickening river of remembrance that initially showed no signs of arresting, I felt like I was drowning. That drowning, however, quickly morphed into something far more atrocious as every recent experience began to cascade like a waterfall, but a waterfall that is more akin to molten lava than something aquatic, pouring itself over my brain. I don't know how, but I've gone from believing I was freezing to death, to believing I'm being waterlogged by a violent deluge and, lastly, to believing I'm being burned alive. Or rather, that my brain is.

The intensity with which the memories have returned forces me to fall to my knees and cry out in pain. As pathetic as it is to admit, I've been doing that a lot today. The falling on my knees thing, I mean. Well, I've also done a lot of wailing. It's just not my fuckin' day today. All bad.

"MAKE IT STOP!" I plead, rolling around in agony on the moist and membranous floor of my subconscious. The Zuri-Head-best name I can think of right now 'cause, you know, my mind is ON FIRE!-just stares at me quizzically. Her eyes turn from the previously luminous royal blue, to a much more sedated, grayish shade. In some strange way, she has a degree of control within my head because the burning immediately stops, delivering the much desired relief.