Tell Me You Love Me

The Nightmare

"John Lennon hands me an apple, but it slips through my fingers. I am reborn as an ocelot. You disapprove." 

-The Cuil Theory

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It was dark. It was almost as if he was consumed in a void of nothingness. He tried blinking his eyes, but it only led to the discovery that he was unable to move. His arms felt heavy at his sides. He attempted to lift one. It refused to move despite his copious efforts, and overwhelming discomfort flooded his body which made his muscles ache. The stark silence filled his ears like cotton. He was able to open his mouth to scream, but the sound eluded him. Fear rooted itself deep inside of him and began to grow, expand, and invade his entire body until he was thrown into a complete panic. He could feel beads of sweat form on his forehead and slide down his face. His heart began to race until he could feel his pulse in his ears, and the sound of his heart beating echoed in his head as if it were empty. His breathing became heavier and more frantic, and he felt like he couldn't catch his breath.

In the distance, he started to hear what sounded like heels clicking against concrete. The sound was approaching him at a steady pace, and he could feel a physical presence gradually nearing him. 

He tried to lift his legs so he could distance himself from the mysterious entity coming towards him, but they felt like deadweight attached to his hips. Shortly after, his body went numb and he couldn't feel anything. He felt trapped but nonexistent simultaneously.

The clicking seemed to stop just a few feet in front of him. He finally managed to close his eyes, and when he opened them, a dim light overhead scarcely lit the immediate area surrounding him, and shadows formed by the light seemed to be dancing around him. He gazed ahead of him at the source of the sound, and he quickly deduced that it was a person standing before him; however, the being stood too far from the light and appeared only as a shadow figure. 

The figure stood silently watching him. Their presence was intimidating and instilled in him a new fear he had never felt before, but he still could not flee. A whisper reverberated throughout the space. The voice didn't sound like anybody he knew, but somehow it felt familiar. It spoke one word which was unintelligible. The word would echo for a few seconds, and then the voice would say it again. After a few cycles of repetition, he finally understood what the voice was saying: his name.

"Michael," the whisper continued. The tone did not sound sinister, but it also did not sound friendly.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure leaped forward in a single bound, and it now stood only inches from Michael. The light bled onto the figure's features, and Michael was able to determine the identity of the familiar man that now stood so close to him. His name sat at the back of his throat, but it was unable to escape through his lips. His name began to suffocate him, and frustration began to consume him. He felt helpless. His eyes fell to the ground. He was still struggling to breathe, and he started to feel lightheaded.

When he looked back up, his foe had grown considerably taller than him. He had to tilt his head back to see his face, and the man was looking down at him. He was belittling him with his eyes. In addition to the trepidation and desperation that had already engulfed him, inferiority was added to the mix, and he was dangerously close to the edge of a breakdown.