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Screaming, Save Me.
After the dream ends, I find myself sitting in bed, frightened and panicking as I whisper the words I was screaming in the dream. ďSave me.Ē
I am a teenager who loves to write. Give me something creative to write about, I'll blow your mind. Give me something academic, and I'll complain until I figure out how to make it creative.
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Screaming, Save Me.
I have nightmares a lot now. Thereís no car crash, no brakes failing, no screeching tires. Thereís no lightning storm, tornado, flash flood or hurricane. No mad men with chainsaws, psycho clowns or creepy men in masks litter my dreams. The sky is not ominous, there are no odd shaped clouds and rain does not continuously fall from the heavens. I see no bloody deaths, no scary scenes, no freakish actions. Yet I awake every night, a scream pausing on the tip of my tongue, pleading to be let out, wanting to be heard. I jolt out of unconsciousness, beads of sweat lining my forehead, my hands clutching the blankets, tearing the cloth slightly.
Every night, the dreams begin the same way. I find myself waking up, discovering that an unearthly silence has descended into the air. The birds cannot be heard chirping, no radios blare music, no lawn mowers hum down the street and no voices can be heard floating through the air. The only sound that reaches my ears is my own labored breathing. As I contemplate the eerie stillness, I realize that no airplanes spoil the sky and no clouds are scattered among the deep blue hue. I can find no one in my house, as I search up and down, listening only to the way my footsteps make a ghostly thump as they hit the ground. It scares me, the way I canít find anyone, the way no one answers as I frantically call out, my head craned toward the sky, listening as the sound of my voice fades away dully, never echoing back into my ears. The dream ends with me settled in the middle of my lawn, tears streaming down my face praying that someone emerges, as the shadows grow longer. My ears crave for sound: the growl of a car, the buzz of conversation. I find myself in my own bed, damp and short of breath, when, in the dream, I see the darkness approaching. It creeps slow, silent, and sullen down the street, engulfing everything. What it leaves in its wake is murky and sinister. I find myself sitting in bed, frightened and panicking as I whisper the words I was screaming in the dream. ďSave me.Ē
The darkness is what scares me the most, I guess. The lack of people is unsettling, and the silence is unnerving, but the darkness is fearful. The darkness, I think, is the cause of the silence, the reason everyone left. I can see the darkness in my mind, even when Iím awake. Itís shifting, eating everything in sight. Maybe itís taking the sound, and the people, leaving only darkness in its place. Maybe. Maybe not. But whatever it is, it scares me.
It scares me a lot. Iím afraid that, maybe one day, the darkness will get me. Iím afraid that maybe one day I wonít wake up, that one day the darkness will come for me. Iím afraid that one day Iíll be too late when I scream ďSave me,Ē that no one will hear me shrieking as the darkness advances.
The other night it was close. I sat in the middle of the emerald lawn, its color slowly fading. The darkness approached gradually, taunting me, telling me to run. I just sat there, crying silently, terrified. I didnít know what to do. It crawled slowly along, taking my breath with it. I panted slightly, pleading for air. As the darkness came closer, I found my breath. Between gasping breaths, I managed to cry out. ďSave me.Ē
I woke up then, breathless and frightened. The darkness had taken my family, my house, and all life from my dreams. I dread sleep, I hate slumber, and I could just die wishing to be awake. I donít know what to do anymore.
It wonít stop. It never will. The darkness will always be there, waiting for me. It wonít ever leave, not until it gets me. It will always crouch silently, waiting in the throws of sleep. The darkness will always be there, haunting me, chasing me, scaring me until it gets me. One day, it will get me before I can shriek. One day it will get me before I wake, whispering. One day, I wonít have enough time to scream. ďSave me.Ē
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"Very details to the point, phobia of darkness, gloomy and scary dreams....good reading nice work." -- Amy, Hayes, UK.
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© 2006 Marie Buzzy
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