The Final Nightmare

She glided down suddenly out of the deep nothingness. Using the vast labyrinth of my emotions as props to freeze me in my sleep. One part of my mind realized it was too good to be true while the other was busy being scared stiff. The angel of death had reappeared.

I saw myself climbing an old apartment block of some long forgotten utopian world. It was my first time there but I knew where I was heading to. I didn’t know what I’m going to find but I knew it would surface soon enough. Then I saw her, the object of my subconscious, the actuator of all my emotions, sitting casually behind an open door, on a carpet in a barely furnitured house. Both her legs folded behind her on one side and resting her body on one hand while the other was on her thighs. She sat there with another man lying a few feet away, resting on one side of his body, facing her and his bare back towards me. They sat there motionless, not speaking, as if made of fine china. Her expressions were all too familiar. Then she saw me.

I always knew somewhere deep below in the ocean of my subconscious lurked a monster. I knew it was there hence preferred the vastness of the conscious  world above the still surface. I would occasionally take a dip but would come out fast, not giving it the scent of my blood. However I never dried myself. I loved the feel of the wetness of my subconscious in the cool air above and let it dry it out naturally. She was in my thoughts last night, more than usual, before I went to bed. It felt so good that this time I inadvertently stayed too far into the deep end not leaving enough time to come out.

As I saw her looking at me, I knew the monster which had been hiding for a long time had surfaced. It dragged me down effortlessly; I did not try to escape. I went down so fast that the light above me disappeared as quickly as turning off a bulb. She slowly got up and in an instant appeared just inches from me. I didn’t remember what she was wearing. It was just her face, her pretty face, clouding everything, my thoughts, my movements, my every cell. Seeing her stand so close to me again sent icy buckets of sweat down my spine. I suddenly felt my lungs sag inside my chest, my knees began to melt and my body began to crumble. I let out a scream as I fell straight down to the floor clutching my chest panting for a wisp of air to fill my deflated lungs. She just stood there over me, not talking, just looking at me with nonchalant eyes. It’s seeing that face and those eyes that I began to experience pure fear.

As I lay down convulsing like a snake all I could see was the monster’s face. Those eyes, not pretty anymore but dark bottomless pits. Her hair was like the web of a thousand spiders. Her precise nose, a vulture’s beak, her perfect skin seemed like white handcrafted plastic but her lips still seemed like rose petals, inviting me and her face, well…., my monster finally had a face.

As I lay writhing on the floor like a pathetic animal, I slowly began to loose consciousness, and as I did, I began to wake up. The deeper I went the more my senses began to stir. As I felt loosing the feel of the hard ground I started to feel the softness of my bed. As I began to loose touch of my dream I started gaining control of my muscles and started moving my limbs hungrily feeding on the feel of my soft pillow and quilt. But her face still held the final strands refusing to let me fully let go of my worst nightmare in years.

I finally heard a soft “What’s wrong daddy?” as I felt a hand on my chest. I could feel concern through the quivering fingers. I could feel heat spreading though my veins like a chain reaction. My little girl’s voice hit the final nail as it tore me away from her. Her face finally began to dissolve into the dark mist and, as I slowly opened my eyes, gradually took the shape of my daughter. I screamed and screamed. The monster was out.