Someone Elses Dream
The window suddenly breaks in, with shards of glass flying in towards my bed. The air, and atmosphere of the outside world suddenly become my own. The glass spins and separates into even smaller pieces, as I lay there unable to move. The smaller pieces become yet smaller pieces, each turning less green and more silver. I turn my head towards my tall, old window and all I can see is the dying brown wooden sill that surrounds it. The only thing you can see is the brown and black swirls of nighttime. All of the glass had been broken, and all of the glass had fallen onto my bed. On my bed the glass has completely turned into dust, and makes my bed glitter like mirrored sand. I run my finger through the particles. It feels unnaturally fine, like the fake sand you can buy at the store. I look at my finger, where the particles have stuck, due to my fear-induced sweat. They sparkle on my finger. The grains are so fine that it appears to be one continuous piece of metal. I notice something moving down my finger, something dark brown. I quickly turn on the small lamp to my left and look at my finger. The brown is actually red, and the dust has sliced my finger in a countless amount of microscopic ways. I panic and breathe in deeply. The clear powder in front of me enters my mouth like a vision of a man smoking in reverse. I choke and gasp for air. I cough into my white, blood trickled blankets hoping for relief, but I only add more blood. The thick red life-force flows out around the edges of my mouth when I am not coughing, and everywhere when I am. I stop thinking about shredded lungs for a second and come back to the window. With a gasp of air somehow making its way around the blood, the blood now showing speckled glass, I somehow gather enough strength to lift myself up, and fall on my elbows to peer out the window. I slowly lift my head imagining what could have possibly done such a thing. I imagine a great green cloud, taking its fill of air, and then emptying its contents towards my window with enough force to destroy it all. The cloud now would smile as I look at the window and silently float away, knowing with one exhale, it could stop another from breathing in. I also imagine a man in a dark black suit, a black knit cap, and black combat boots, taping tiny explosives to precise points on the glass. The explosives look like smaller versions of the window, but with redness in their tint. The man runs off and hides in the bushes, crouching down on one knee and holding one finger on a large red button. The large red button is attached to a black box a bit larger than the button itself. He slowly counts to ten while regaining his breath. His finger comes straight down onto the button and he watches in delight as the window caves in, and the individual pieces of glass cave in themselves. I finally imagine a young boy. The young boy has scar marks on his legs and back from an incident with is father. His father would injure him with glass, that is, when the father was still able to. The boy now lives with his mother, and still shudders every time he would see a glass window. This night the boy could not stand to see another window. His friends saw his scars and laughed. The boy comes across the old window, with the rotting brown oak frame, on a green as glass house. He stops and stares at the glass, and a shiver hurries up and down his spine, but never leaves. Unable to allow the shivers and threat to continue, the boy picks up a nearby rock and throws it with such force, with such anger and torment that the glass explodes on itself. But as I lift my head, to expect to see one of the images, I see nothing. My pained eyes look right and left, trying to focus through the tears of pain. All I can see are tall dirtied streetlights, the swirling brown, gray and blue, sky, my dying yellow front yard, almost whitened contrasted with the sky, and the bush in my front yard, with every rock in tact, and without a shadow peering from behind it. My elbows give out as I fall to my chest on the wood. My chest sinks into the soft wood, and on the inside the glass pours into the rest of my body. Funny, my grass looks brown now, and the sky is completely black. The streetlights wink and start to stand taller and more alive than I have ever seen them. I roll my eyes towards my neighbor’s house across the street. Their house is white, with fresh new red paint on the windowsills. Their green lawn, and finely trimmed hedges sit still during night, each with a high stance of pride. I notice something odd about their window however, there appears to be no glass. I roll my head to the side, after choking up more speckled blood. Something in their front lawn reflects off the tall streetlights and blinks. I nudge my head back a little more and look at the object. There are actually many objects blinking random messages at me. The misshapen strobe lights are spread all the way across the lawn, and form a semicircle around the window. I look into the window and see a man staring out. He has a familiar face, but it’s darkened by the night. His silhouette stands still, and watches me as I watch him. I suppose we were in eye contact, though neither of us could see the other’s eyes. I could, however, tell his torment was the spiritual version of my lungs. As I gasp for what is to be my final breath, he closes the blinds.
Email: killsane@hotmail.com
