I awoke suddenly. My body remained stationary, I didn't want to break the residual sleep spell. My eyes remained closed for the same reason.
But my mind was fully alert.
A feeling of total and utter fear remained with me from my dream. My skin prickled as the sweat cooled against it.
I lay there, immobile, eyes shut, making sense of what I was feeling. It was not from a dream. Something was in the room. In the corner. Watching me. A darkness. I could not see but could sense the malice. Had this invaded my dream or was my dream still dictating my feelings now.
I did not move. To move was to validate its existence. To move was to confront it. My breathing slowed, my ears searching for anything to calm or inflame my fears.
Concentration was hard to find, but if I could just get back to sleep then the threat, the fear, the evil would be gone, banished maybe back to a dream but gone from reality.
It lingered. I wanted to speak. The wind in the eaves outside the window whistled gently, unaware of the lurker in my room. In my head.
Nothing moved except my chest as it rose and fell in time with my breathing. Slowly sleep began to re-assert its dominance. But it was still there, in the dark corner of the room and as I drifted back off it crept back towards me, ready to re infest my sleep.
I fucking hate dreams about the quare fella.
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3 comments:
Fucking creepy! Very well written piece mate. If I might make an observation? For an atheist you tend to dream a lot about the Divil? Could it be a subconcious yearning? A profound but deeply buried faith, hammering at the walls of your intellectual denial?
For me, it would have been much scarier if it had been a faintly chuckling clown in the room...
Wow marc. I only noticed this post now. Brilliant writing mate. It wasn't the quare fella though, it was most likely "the buggerman"
Jaysus Marc. This made the hair stand up on the nape of my neck.
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