Chapter 1: Awoken
I awoke with a dreaded sweat pool on my shirt and face. The nightmares again… they always returned, despite all of my cautionary measures to not dream, but what is it to not dream as you sleep? Torment? Failure? Illegal? To not dream would be forfeiting my entire existence, my life. The lie I live is my truth now.
I pulled myself out of bed, feeling exhausted, even though I had slept in this time. I cleaned myself up, pouring out milk into a bowl, and cereal after it, something I had never even done before. I ate, got dressed, and put my shoes on the wrong foot; I fixed my mistake and put on my bag with a sigh.
I made my way down the street, where the black van waited patiently for me to make my way over there. If I tried walking in another direction, I'd be shot. If I got in the wrong seat? Shot. If I stayed in my house? Shot. Nothing would work, especially since I'd tried before.
I threw my bag onto the seat next to me and sat silently. The driver, however, was talkative as always. "How were the dreams?" She asked, looking quite serious for asking such a question.
"Great, as they always were," I replied sarcastically.
"Tell me about them." She commanded, not taking her eyes off of the now passing road.
I sat silently for a moment, contemplating just letting her shoot me, but they always find a way around that.
"It was that thing again. It chased me through the night. Down a familiar-looking alleyway. In front of the streetlight, it flexed its shadows, its toxicity." I murmured.
"I see." She looked to the small screen at the front and pressed a button, it replayed what I just said aloud, and she proceeded to send it off somewhere, the video vanishing from the screen forever.
Why didn't you run? I'd be shot. Why not just get shot? They always bring me back after they shoot me. That's not your only question though, I'm certain of it. Why are you being escorted, what did you do to be in custody like this? The answer is simple… or do I say… easy.
It's because I dream.
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