This Is Not My Dream by TheMichaelMacRae

EDIT Oct 20 2011: Her boobs were driving me crazy, they sagged so far plus I don't like the grey shirt, I gave her gals a boost and gave her an undershirt thing to add some contrast

In the mid day sunlight that is leaking through the space between the window sill and the blinds, I am laying here. It is too hot. The air is stale and lifeless and I can see the dust settling on my dresser. It glows slightly as it lands. I can hear faint laughs coming from outside in the distance. Children I think. I want nothing more then to be with them but I am here instead. the thin white sheet covering me is tightly tucked in beneath the mattress on each side and takes some effort to free it.

I let my bare feet touch the soft carpeting and pause as I hear a woman's heavy steps walk past the door to my room. I do not want to be disturbed and I should not be up. I remove the tape from my wrist and pull out the needle with little satisfaction. I stand, sit, then stand again. My legs are weak. The small armoire across from the bed looks large enough. Seven feet away. Seven feet, seven miles, same to me.

The wood is cheap and scratches easily even with my dull old nails. I give it a knock, a second and a third. While I hold it for support I give the knob a turn. The knob is small and nailed in, it should not move with my little strength, though when have I given credence to such things? I feel younger already.

The door opens wide and I stand on my own two feet. I swing open the other. There is a dark tunnel made of cobblestone to the same dimensions of the armoire. I enter. I enter 50 years younger and free again. On hands and feet I scamper toward the light. I can't see past the bright light, I know not what is at the end of the tunnel and I don't care. A smile breaks out.

The tunnel ends and I dive forth into the sky. My old clothes, thin and salt stained, return as I spear into the ocean below. A clean dive with no splash. That is when I feel it. Something is amiss. I feel a slight sting, the water is darker then it was last time I was here; the steps to my home, harder sharper. This is different. I feel like this is not my world. I try not to notice but there are differences, things others would not notice but I do. The red velvet chair to my right is facing the corner. There are drawings on the floor here that I do not remember making. They appear to be of dragons. I don't understand, this is my home, where only I can go. What has happened?

I try to ignore it. I move down the halls and admire their tall ornate ceilings. I feel like I am being followed. I find my ball with the red star on it, I bounce it and it feels the same and makes me happy. I hear a foot step on the next floor up. I kick the ball and it bounces down the hall and around the corner. I try to keep my mind off the strangeness and I hear another step. I look behind me and up to find a trickle of grey dust float from the blue and yellow ceiling. The designs of dragons and stars seem to be less colorful then they were last time.

I continue forward with my eyes still fixed on the ceiling when I step on something meaty and slippery and I tumble backward. Upon recollecting myself I see the culprit. A fish, black, dead, dripping a dark liquid, and reeking like tar. I am shocked. It was not there before. The ceiling begins to drip black, and black is soaking up through the once beautiful carpet. It is cold and it pains my feet. Something is wrong I need to leave. I want to leave. I need to leave. I walk faster looking for a way out when a gust of wind brushes my hair and a heavy thump rumbles up my legs. A thin pillar of black shot down from the ceiling just beside me and more are coming. This isn't my home I shouldn't be here.

I need to find a door, something I can focus on to make an exit, any door will do. I head for the basement there are many cabinets down there big enough to crawl through. The floor is growing darker and there are more dead fish scattered everywhere I turn right at the next corner into the dining hall. I leap up onto the table to gather respite from the blackness. The smell of tar is filling my nose and I am losing feeling in my feet and hands. I can see my breath, it is getting colder.

Black pillars are filling the room and I leap for the staircase. Down it winds, much farther than it should, much farther than the basement is. I am thrust into waist deep ocean water. It appears I am beneath the mansion but it is not as I remember it. Stone bricks make up the supports and the ground feels as though it is made of mud but I can not see my feet through the water. The basement is open on all sides to the ocean air and grey light flickers off the black liquid. I do not feel safe. The water is colder than it should be and there is a heavy current, yet the surface is calm. I do not know where I am anymore, there is no exit here and I can not go back. I am scared.

I make a candle appear, it is what little I can do in this world now, and I light it with some of the remaining heat within me. It brings with it some comfort, some safety. But I do not feel safe at all. I feel things touching my legs and rustling my skirt. The tiny flame repells the black on the surface of the water and I can see now. There are fish, hundreds of them. The same as the ones I saw before but alive and hungry. Hungry for heat, hungry for life, hungry for me.

I am truly scared.