Post by wanderer on Dec 6, 2009 2:14:03 GMT -5
He woke up screaming, struggling for breath as he bolted-up straight, head feeling as if it’s about to implode, his heart felt like it had been stabbed. The pain was like nothing Jeremiah ever felt in his life. Hands groped for his heart—startled to find it intact. He stared down at the unyielding flesh against the palm of his hands, flinching as his hands gripped his chest tighter. A throb was aching deep within and he massaged the skin over it, as if that might somehow help. It didn’t. The pain in his heart spiked with each breath, becoming more and more unbearable with each pounding. His breath, ragged and wheezing, escaped his lungs in bursts. He was horribly confused. Was he not dead?
The bed he was in—a bed that he knew was not his—was damp with his sweat. The room was dark except for the faint aura of light passing through the windows, shimmering in the darkness, taunting him. Past the pane of glass the wind played an endless haunting requiem. He shivered as the sweat begins to dry from his skin. An eerie feeling that someone is here, or was only seconds ago, seeps into his bones. He can’t explain it, yet here it is.
Jeremiah took a deep, slow breath, trying to calm down the panic rising inside of him…but failed. Something seemed to be stuck in his chest. He rolled out of the bed, the pain staggering his footsteps, the hurt heavy and unbearable. He cracked the door and peeked in, and saw nothing. The hallway was black. Eternity was a desolate place.
What the hell happened? Where am I? More questions popped in his head. How did I end up here? What day is it? He hears a voice call his name. Startled, he looked around. What was that? Jeremiah? Then he realized in horror another question he had no answer to: Who really am I?
He had a dream like this before. Had his nightmares finally become a reality? Or was the past the real nightmare? Had he not killed himself? Was this another dream—inside of another dream? Is this another nightmare? His heartbeat sped up again at the thought. He knew what happened in his nightmares. It never ended well for him.
The bed he was in—a bed that he knew was not his—was damp with his sweat. The room was dark except for the faint aura of light passing through the windows, shimmering in the darkness, taunting him. Past the pane of glass the wind played an endless haunting requiem. He shivered as the sweat begins to dry from his skin. An eerie feeling that someone is here, or was only seconds ago, seeps into his bones. He can’t explain it, yet here it is.
Jeremiah took a deep, slow breath, trying to calm down the panic rising inside of him…but failed. Something seemed to be stuck in his chest. He rolled out of the bed, the pain staggering his footsteps, the hurt heavy and unbearable. He cracked the door and peeked in, and saw nothing. The hallway was black. Eternity was a desolate place.
What the hell happened? Where am I? More questions popped in his head. How did I end up here? What day is it? He hears a voice call his name. Startled, he looked around. What was that? Jeremiah? Then he realized in horror another question he had no answer to: Who really am I?
He had a dream like this before. Had his nightmares finally become a reality? Or was the past the real nightmare? Had he not killed himself? Was this another dream—inside of another dream? Is this another nightmare? His heartbeat sped up again at the thought. He knew what happened in his nightmares. It never ended well for him.