In Dreams | Teen Ink

In Dreams

July 12, 2021
By DesdemoniaDee BRONZE, Wördern, Other
DesdemoniaDee BRONZE, Wördern, Other
2 articles 0 photos 18 comments

Favorite Quote:
“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“I don’t believe one reads to escape reality. A person reads to confirm a reality he knows is there, but which he has not experienced.”
― Lawrence Durrell

“An idea is like a rare bird which cannot be seen. What one sees is the trembling of the branch it has just left.”


In Dreams

I have often wondered about the strange nature of dreams. Why do we forget what we could recall just seconds ago? Why do we on some nights, awake and find our faces flooded with tears we do not recollect having shed? And why do we sometimes in our sleep utter strings of meaningless words? All this I know not. But one thing I know for certain. Something lurks within the depths of our minds, and it must never, ever roam free.

I was woken by the lashing of the rain against my bedroom window. It was pouring down mercilessly and the tapping against the glass penetrated the nocturnal silence. I lay awake staring at the ceiling for I could not return to sleep. Faint light was coming from outside, casting oddly shaped shadows on the opposite wall. I watched as they slowly moved along only to disappear again in the dark corners of the room. After a while, I thought I heard a small continual sound emerging from the room next to mine and as I listened more intently, I could make out that someone was speaking. The sole occupant of the house, save myself, was my flatmate Higgins, so I concluded that he too, unable to sleep, was talking to himself as he often tended to do. But as time advanced, my friend’s utterances grew louder and louder until I resolved to make my way to his room, in order to tell him to be quieter.

So, I stepped onto the obscure corridor and found the door to his room closed. But now I could clearly hear what he was saying. It startled me for he seemed to be talking in a foreign language unknown to me, which was indeed very strange, for the only foreign language he was mastering was French. And he had not spoken it for years. My curiosity about my friend’s nightly whereabouts increasing, I very carefully opened the door. His bedchamber was darker than mine, for he had drawn the curtains. Indeed, he was sitting upright in his bed though he did not seem to have noticed my entering. “Higgins?” I asked. Somewhat worried when he showed no reaction, I slowly came nearer and gently touched his arm. And that was when I noticed that he was still asleep, brabbling these strange ululations in his sleep. “Higgins!”, I called once more. Now I noticed that he was constantly repeating the same sentence if sentence it was. I tried to shake him and in my desperate attempt I even pinched him, but he would not awake. So, realising that I could do nothing, I decided to keep watch by his side, as I could not sleep. Maybe that was a way of finding out what was happening to him.

I assume, in the end I gave in to fatigue, because when I woke out of my perturbed sleep, the bed was empty. However, after a short moment of reorientating and remembering what had happened, I noticed Higgins, standing on the doorstep, with a cup of tea in his hand, frowning while observing me. He seemed perfectly alright and inquired into why I was sitting next to his bed when he woke up. After some hesitation I explained what had occurred that night.

When I had finished my account of the events, he looked at me quite amused, to my embarrassment, and said he could not remember a thing of what I just told him. The whole day I thought about the incident, and finally gathered that it was just the result of some vivid dream. But still I insisted on staying with my friend that night.

It was not until two of the clock that the disturbances started. There they were again, the strange words from the night before. But this time something was different. The tone of voice had changed from indifferent and monotonous to agitated and out of breath. It was as if somebody were chasing him. He was now almost shouting, evidently trapped in some wild dream-pandemonium. Again, I tried to wake him but gave up soon. His face was pearled with sweat and I watched with sorrow as his hands were flapping about, as if trying to escape whatever haunted him. That night I slept but little.

 

On the next morning Higgin`s positive attitude was completely gone. A bad migraine was making him suffer. His eyes sunken and his skin baggy, I thought it utterly abhorrent that a man might change so radically overnight. Sometimes I asked if I could do something for him, but he just shook his head and lay on the couch looking up placidly. But as the evening was approaching, he suddenly called me with his weak voice. I hurried and sat down next to him. Higgins started mumbling something. I could scarcely hear what he was saying, but with surprise I recognised that he was telling me of something he dreamed last night. His descriptions were vague and sometimes it was completely impossible to understand him, but I shuddered as he told me about his visions. He described creatures; their eyes hollow and dark and empty, their pale, bony faces, that showed the expression of infinite torment. In his dream Higgins was alone, in a vast sea of blackness, trapped, and crying for help, but scream as he would, not a sound would emerge from his throat. It was at this point when, out of the darkness these aberrations would crawl.

When the night’s darkness engulfed us, Higgins struggled, for he did not want to go to sleep. He had a sudden burst of energy, protesting against my attempts to calm him. I assured him that I would be with him all night. As soon as his condition would change for the worst I would wake him, although I feared that, as in previous experiences, that would not be possible. But I kept that to myself.

Compared to what took place afterwards, last night´s events were merely nothing. I had gained hope when at two O`clock still nothing had occurred. Soon I heard a small whimper coming from Higgins and went closer to check on him. He was perspiring like mad, and I kept wiping his forehead and jumped back when he, unexpectedly opened his eyes. It was then that the demoniac laughter, which I would remember vividly so many years afterwards, emerged from his lips. It grew louder and louder until it swelled into screams of despair fraught with terror. I fell pray to panic when the shrieks went on and I came to the realisation that I could do nothing to help my dear friend, that had just passed the brim of insanity. Ashamed I turned away and put my hands to my ears, for I could bear it all no longer. My lips pressed tight together, my eyes closed in fear. After a while of escaping his madness, I noticed that the shrieks that had been so frantic had stopped. With surprise I looked up and beheld such a grisly scene. Something that had once been my friend Higgins lay stiff in his bed. His face was pale and bony. His mouth wide open, in eternal torment. His hands were still gripping the bed frame.

Since the passing of Higgins, I have tried to find the meaning of that sentence of doom, that had brought death and wild delirium upon my friend. I even delved into forgotten tongues of long-gone civilizations, but nowhere could I find what I was looking for. Maybe it was mercy that I remain ignorant of its meaning. I can sleep no longer. Day and night I dare not close my eyes, for I fear what lingers in the mind and just waits to be released.


The author's comments:

The general outlines of this story are based on a dream I, myself had. Also I was inspired by an account of a girl in my class whose brother had parasomnia and started screaming and flapping about his hands in his sleep.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 9 comments.


on Aug. 23 2021 at 5:05 am
DesdemoniaDee BRONZE, Wördern, Other
2 articles 0 photos 18 comments

Favorite Quote:
“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“I don’t believe one reads to escape reality. A person reads to confirm a reality he knows is there, but which he has not experienced.”
― Lawrence Durrell

“An idea is like a rare bird which cannot be seen. What one sees is the trembling of the branch it has just left.”

Thank you Crazywolfiegirl2. This really means a lot to me.

on Aug. 21 2021 at 10:57 am
Crazywolfiegirl2 PLATINUM, Kington, Other
27 articles 0 photos 266 comments

Favorite Quote:
When people first meet me, they think I'm really shy, but by the time they get to know me they wonder how the illusion of shyness ever came around!

I'm glad I don't have dreams like that. This was an amazing story though, really well written. I loved it.

on Jul. 28 2021 at 8:09 am
SparrowSun ELITE, X, Vermont
196 articles 22 photos 1038 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It Will Be Good." (complicated semi-spiritual emotional story.)

"Upon his bench the pieces lay
As if an artwork on display
Of gears and hands
And wire-thin bands
That glisten in dim candle play." -Janice T., Clockwork[love that poem, dont know why, im not steampunk]

but the kintro is intresting

on Jul. 28 2021 at 8:08 am
SparrowSun ELITE, X, Vermont
196 articles 22 photos 1038 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It Will Be Good." (complicated semi-spiritual emotional story.)

"Upon his bench the pieces lay
As if an artwork on display
Of gears and hands
And wire-thin bands
That glisten in dim candle play." -Janice T., Clockwork[love that poem, dont know why, im not steampunk]

i tried to read it but my computer is glitching

on Jul. 28 2021 at 3:46 am
DesdemoniaDee BRONZE, Wördern, Other
2 articles 0 photos 18 comments

Favorite Quote:
“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“I don’t believe one reads to escape reality. A person reads to confirm a reality he knows is there, but which he has not experienced.”
― Lawrence Durrell

“An idea is like a rare bird which cannot be seen. What one sees is the trembling of the branch it has just left.”

Ok, have fun with your campaign:) What did you think of my story though?

on Jul. 27 2021 at 10:36 pm
SparrowSun ELITE, X, Vermont
196 articles 22 photos 1038 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It Will Be Good." (complicated semi-spiritual emotional story.)

"Upon his bench the pieces lay
As if an artwork on display
Of gears and hands
And wire-thin bands
That glisten in dim candle play." -Janice T., Clockwork[love that poem, dont know why, im not steampunk]

y cousin also said no(after i spent days trying to contact him. his phone was broken?)

on Jul. 27 2021 at 10:34 pm
SparrowSun ELITE, X, Vermont
196 articles 22 photos 1038 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It Will Be Good." (complicated semi-spiritual emotional story.)

"Upon his bench the pieces lay
As if an artwork on display
Of gears and hands
And wire-thin bands
That glisten in dim candle play." -Janice T., Clockwork[love that poem, dont know why, im not steampunk]

ok, a ton of ppl on ddb just said yes and I'm not clear how many(probably enough to break my math skills tho. doesn't take much.).

on Jul. 27 2021 at 2:25 am
DesdemoniaDee BRONZE, Wördern, Other
2 articles 0 photos 18 comments

Favorite Quote:
“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“I don’t believe one reads to escape reality. A person reads to confirm a reality he knows is there, but which he has not experienced.”
― Lawrence Durrell

“An idea is like a rare bird which cannot be seen. What one sees is the trembling of the branch it has just left.”

Hey SparrowSun! Thanks for the invitation but I am currently engaged in a big campaign myself and I think it would be to much. But thanks anyway!

on Jul. 24 2021 at 11:22 am
SparrowSun ELITE, X, Vermont
196 articles 22 photos 1038 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It Will Be Good." (complicated semi-spiritual emotional story.)

"Upon his bench the pieces lay
As if an artwork on display
Of gears and hands
And wire-thin bands
That glisten in dim candle play." -Janice T., Clockwork[love that poem, dont know why, im not steampunk]

you play dnd?
ive got an online campaign on dnd beyond and all the members just dropped out. we only just got to the underdark and were on the cusp of our first encounter. I'm trying to call my cousin who plays magic(so probly dnd. tho I play dnd and not magic.) and see if hes interested but didn't get ahold of him last night and there's a time difference, so I cant call him yet(he apparently wakes up around noon. tho that was when he visited with jet lag, so maybe he'll be awake. I'm going to try calling soon, I guess.). anyways, do you want to join?