Chris Miller And The Longest Night

There are three types of dreams, at least in my experience. Happy or neutral dreams, in which it's basically just a jumble of thoughts and memories. Those are typically harmless, and you usually forget them after a bit. Nightmares, in which you're scared or even terrified and sometimes even die at the end. People with that kind of nightmare don't always wake up, sadly. And then there's hell-in-a-jar. That's when you feel like you'll never get out, when you truly lose hope and want to give up, or you see horrible things that you'll always wish to unsee, or it even just seems terrifyingly real. Those you don't forget.

I tend to have hell-in-a-jar dreams most often. Go figure.

In this one, I was standing in a dark cavern full of laughing voices. Some sang heartbreakingly sad songs with words I couldn't quite understand, some laughed joyfully, some mocked me for just about every detail I had ever hated... It was horrible. I almost felt like I was swimming through every emotion I had ever felt, only so many more times powerful. After a few minutes of trying and failing to escape from these voices, I saw a figure slowly come into view about ten yards away. They were huge, maybe four times my height, and lay on their side in the rocks. They seemed unconscious.

I hurried towards them- No, him. He had an expression that suggested just laying down to take a nap, but he looked like he'd been there for years. I couldn't make out any specific details, but I recognized dark brown skin, some dark wings that almost could've belonged to a raven, and long, dark hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in decades.

Centuries, actually, said one of the voices. I wondered how it had known what I was thinking, but the scene changed to one of a burning house. There was a woman standing inside it holding some gasoline and matches, and she looked like she was about to run.

No. Stay.

The words rang from every direction, and I extended my arm towards her. She crumpled to the ground, and the flames soon started to cover her body.

"Did I just..." I trailed off when I realized nobody could answer me. The fire started getting closer to me, but suddenly I couldn't move. Someone had chained me to the ground.

This is what happens when you fight what is not meant to be fought, said the voice. This is what happens when you just let the lines blur.

I awoke just as the flames reached me, almost falling over with the force of my sitting up. My elbow hurt, and more blood was seeping through the bandage. Great, I thought. More chance of infection, just what I need. I let myself gaze in the direction I knew the camp was in. A camp for people "just like me"... Tempting, but no. It sounded like a trap. I had a long list of stuff to deal with, and traps weren't on it. Besides, I didn't need a summer home to tell me I was crazy. The dreams took care of that themselves.

"But when was dreaming... Did I put that woman to sleep? Good riddance, I thought, anyone who does something like try to burn a house with children in it deserves to be punished. Still, though. I knew I could affect the real world through my dreams, just... not like that. Never like that.

I started packing my things, getting ready to move to a new location. I had, somehow, gotten almost everything in my bag when I heard the first monster coming near me. I spun around, holding my hatchet in front of me as if to say 'I have a weapon, I'm protected,' but when I saw how many there were, I knew it was hopeless.

Maybe that camp wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Notes

Chapter one is finished, and I have no clue what just happened, myself. Hell, I don't even know what year this is set in. It's 2:30 am, okay, so just cut me some slack. I might come back and revise this sometime... Maybe. Anyways, this was posted at 2:30 am on October 24, 2015. So enjoy this piece of shit or whatever, I guess?