Eurythmic - short stories -

Black Ink and Pink Roses

Last night I dreamt I was at my funeral again. The last time I had this dream was four years ago. It's the exact same dream every time. I walk into a brightly lit room, full of people in black clothes. The room has no ceiling, just a vast abyss of pure darkness. There are pictures of me all over the walls, with short phrases, like 'she will be missed' or 'rest in peace', attached. It's my funeral. No one is talking, there's an eerie silence, as everyone looks towards the ground. I've had this dream so many times, but I've never managed to see a single person's face. Not ever.

In the dream, there is a black velvet carpet, paving the way to an open casket surrounded by pale pink roses. I take slow steps towards the casket as rose petals slowly fall around me. It's quiet and all I can hear are my painfully slow footsteps, as I make my way down the aisle. I make it about half way, and then, the petals stop raining from the sky. All of a sudden, the atmosphere changed. It didn't feel like a sad, solemn funeral anymore. It felt like something morbid, something sinister was coming, rising from the depths. It was not a good feeling, but I keep walking, I never stop.
Finally when I'm only a few steps away from the casket, piano music starts playing, the soft kind, that you would hear in a creepy music box. The kind that sends chills through your spine, and make your whole body shiver. Then the flower petals start up again, but this time they aren't falling down from the sky. They're falling... up, from the ground, like a video playing in reverse. I keep walking, I'm almost at the casket. But a sudden sharp screech, like that of a record being scratched, brings all the music to a halt. The petals that were rising up stop, suspended in mid air. Black paint spills out from underneath the carpet, and from behind the picture frames. I stop, and after a few painfully slow seconds, I begin to look down into the casket. My own casket. At my own funeral. Only in my wildest dreams, could I see myself attending my own funeral, seeing my own dead body. I look into the casket, only to find it... empty.

There was no dead body, only a small piece of paper, with some words that I couldn't read. I try to reach for the note, but I can't move. It's as if something is holding me down, while the room starts turning black. Someone calls my name from behind me. It's a familiar yet unfamiliar voice. I use all my strength to turn around, and something grabs me by my neck.

That's where the dream ends. As soon as that thing grabs my neck, I jolt awake, covered in a cold sweat. That's how it is everytime. Or... was. This time was different. This time there was no force holding me down. This time, I could move freely and i could pick up the piece of paper. This time, I grasped the off-white paper, with blue corners, in my hand before turning around, and being choked by the neck. The last time I had this dream was four years ago, and it's just as scary now as it was back then. I've been going to a psychiatrist, so these weird dreams haven't been a problem for a while. But, now that they're back, I'm too afraid to fall asleep again.

In my panic, I didn't realize that I had been clutching onto the bed sheets. But, now I wish I had never realized. Now, I wish I had kept my hands clamped shut, hiding away the secrets and horrors inside. Because when I released the sheets from my hand, a crumpled up piece of paper fell along with my pink bed sheets.

A piece of paper that made my face turn pale.

An off-white paper with blue corners.