Short story about a dream
Dream scape; the altered state of mind when one is asleep. The subconscious, the Id’s hidden warnings and messages. Every time you close your eyes and sleep, you dream. Specialists confess that the average dream only lasts about nine minutes, but is repeated over and over slowly revealing more and more of the dream. Like an overlapping puzzle that offsets itself every time. Dreams can get confusing, strange or even terrifying. Personally I like my dreams to be the strange and terrifying type. I remember bits of my dreams much like every one else, but there is one dream that to this day still is like a freeze frame picture as clear as the day it happened.
I was in the fifth grade playing sick. I managed to get a pass to the nurses office and once there she suggested I rest a while. I laid down on one of the very comfortable beds. My head resting softly on the goose down pillow. The nurse closed the curtains and it got dark and like those curtains my eyes closed shortly after and then I was asleep, and to me it felt like I had already started to dream. I woke slowly rising from the bed. It felt so real, the room, the air even the touch of my feet on the floor and the feel of my hands touching the cool plastic bed. I stood carefully, probing the curtains for a way out. Then suddenly I was awake the past dream still like a purple white sunspot in my eyes, still lingering but fading with every blink as I tried to clear my head. Everything was sharp now, clear and in detail.
I walked to the curtains their smooth cold plastic feel comforting to my fingers touch. I parted the curtains and walked down the hall to the nurses office. The flourescent light casting weird shadows on the floor and walls. I opened the door and the sweet smell and warm breeze hit me dead on. “Was I dead?,” was the only thing I can remember thinking. I was outside now the school down a long dirt path to a valley below. I began running unsure of exactly where I was running to. Faster and faster I ran at almost inhuman speed. The moist morning ground no longer felt hitting my feet. But I was getting no closer, every step I took toward the school the father it seemed to be.
Then I remember dizziness hitting me like a bullet in the head. A cloud of haze falling around my blanket covered mind. I tripped, falling face first. The fall feeling like it was lasting an eternity till I hit. The grounds softness covering my face and shoulders in a earthly embrace. The blackness; the fresh smell of earth, the taste of the grit in my mouth choking me into tearing spasms. I woke slowly again my eyes adjusting to the dim light. I felt a soft goose feathered pillow against my head, the thoughts of the last few minutes racing through my head at a lightning speed. I took deep breaths to slow my heart which had began to beat faster and faster as I relived more and more of the dream back in my head.
I rose confused and dazed stepping closer to the curtain edge and pulled them open, my eyes closed waiting to pull them open all the way. I opened my eyes slowly only a fraction at a time. Praying that I was still alive or at least in the nurses office. The ring of the class period bell made my heart skip two beats as I jumped what felt like ten feet into the air. “No way,” I thought, it had to have been hours. But the clock read that only one class period had gone by. I walked to the nurses office (I confess rather I ran.) and asked her if it would be alright if I returned to my next class. She asked me if I was feeling better and I told her I had never felt this way before and left to go to my class with out waiting for a note to return.
I must confess again I didn’t sleep much that day in class after that I just sort of stayed awake as best I could, no matter how tired I felt. I think our dreams tell us a lot about ourselves and how we really live. They take us out of our reality and to where every the dreamer wants to go. Life would much simpler I think if we listened to our dreams more and our minds less