Don't Wake Me if I'm Dreaming Read Free Page A

focus on the green numbers of the oven clock displaying 2:23 a.m. With the forest dream fresh in my thoughts, I almost fell off the chair rushing to my room for a pen and tablet, and sat with a plunk on the bed.
    I returned there, again, to the bloody woods.
    I stopped writing long enough to rip the page, collect my thoughts, and start over.
    The warmth of the sun touches my face, as I stand with my eyes closed in transition. I see sunlight through my eyelids. It is a pleasant feeling. A light breeze touches my skin as I breathe in the many aromas of the crisp morning air. I hear a woodpecker drilling in the distance, Mockingbirds mocking, and Cardinals whistling their beautiful tune. Suddenly, I experience a rush of impending doom, realizing I’m standing again near the lake in the forest. The growing repugnance toward the lake, the forest, the dream, and even the feathered vertebrate near an intolerable amount of distress, making my stomach churn. I know the only way to end the dream is to find the reason the boy is standing alone by the shore.
    I hurry toward him, a little faster with each step. He can’t be standing more than forty yards from where the dream always begins. I slow my pace as I approach him, hoping not to frighten him away. Finally, his dirt spotted face turns up toward me, but something unexpected happens. I gasp, losing my footing, and fall back flat to the ground in shock. His green eyes send a sort of charge that radiates through my body as if all my appendages are frozen stiff. Instead of seeing him, it’s as if I can see myself through his eyes. I lay on the ground paralyzed from fear, my light strawberry blonde hair falling around me, my pale green-blue eyes filled with fright, and my lips fearfully quivering. As quickly as the mirrored image of me appears in his eyes, it’s gone.
    I needed a moment to clear my head to remember the rest of the dream, but it didn’t take long for the fear to return and the pen to slide across the tablet.
    I frantically scramble to my feet looking around me, but the water is untouched, and no sign of footprints trail the path. The little boy is nowhere to be seen. I figure if I head the other direction, maybe I will find my way out of the nightmare. I walk, each step further from where the boy stood, further from the disembodied illusion he produced. The trail oddly appears incessant, seeing no end or alternative side paths. It brings an eerie feeling that I am going nowhere in a hurry. I look around feeling stumped and scared. There are no signs of human life, just me in the forest, alone. A deep fear plunges in my body as panic rushes through me. There is no escaping this dream, and I am unable to wake myself.
    The sun begins setting over the lake, providing a dim cast of light, but my surroundings remain visible. The same cloud that typically lingers is absent. I try focusing on the fiery shades of pink and orange reflecting across the water, hoping the beautiful scenery brings comfort, but it doesn’t. Chirps, hoots, and squeaks replace the drills from the woodpecker and melody of birds. It is rapidly growing late, and I am increasingly becoming petrified.
    I step to a log a few feet from the water, where I sit with my arms hugged tight around my legs, as if trying to squeeze the fear from my body. Peering over my knees, I frown at the dirt wedged around my toes. “Wake up dammit!” I cry, half anticipating something to happen. As I sit shivering, staring at the lake that now reflects a wavering moonlight, I notice time appears to be lapsing in a steadily forward motion. What realistically should have been hours, appear approximately minutes. Unfazed by this discovery, it dawns on me that if I step into the water, the coldness will likely startle me awake. After jumping to my feet, I hurriedly take a large step, reaching the outcropping of mossy rock in the water and find my balance. Resisting the urge to step forward into the cold darkness beneath my toes,