Twisted Dreams

🟨 Roaring

You wonder if you'd gone blind, laying there on the nonexistent ground. You felt yourself open your eyes - but all that lies in your field of view is darkness. But then, there's gray, right there, on the right.

You blink and sit up, instinctively turning to face the source of the dim light. The sound of your clothes rustling and your unusually steady breathing echoes like a long, narrow cave. Noises seem to bounce around you but, at the same time, fade away infinitely.

The air around you is neither hot nor cold, even when facing the light source. What lies in front of you is a view as familiar as your own face. Which is to say, familiar, but off balance as if flipped or skewed.

Your front door, sitting in the otherwise empty black void. Through it emits soft light, reminding you of the blackout days you'd spend, lit by a single flashlight. But something about the open door feels more like a gaping maw than open arms.

With a cold shiver, you're struck with the realization that the doorway is through which all sounds are being drawn. You gulp: even your heartbeat sounds tentative and echoing. Your mind is made by the time you've shakily risen to your feet.

I will not go through the door. Nothing good can come of it.

You chant these words silently, even as you walk through the door against your will. It's like moving through a dream. Nothing you do is truly in your control... but it's still you.

The door slams behind you - the only sound you've heard made by something other than yourself. The echoes of the sound build and charge like a flickering fire surrounding you on all sides, licking and roaring and burning and--

You awaken, for sure this time, to your flaming bedroom and the distant sound of shouting.