3:00am Dream 2002-09-25

When I was about 6 years old, I would have recurring nightmares. Bad ones. They were so bad that I became an insomniac for six years of my life. Not the healthiest of lifestyles for a six year old. The crazy thing about this nightmare, is that it always happened at 3:00am. Every time, never fail. And it was never the same dream. But it always had the same ending, where if I didn't wake up in time I was dead.

I know I wrote about a dream in my last entry, and I didn't plan on writing about another one for a while. But last night I had another 3:00am nightmare...

Nick and I were hired by Tom Bradac to be his bodyguards. Tom didn't have any proof, but he was sure that someone was trying to kill him, so he hired me and Nick to protect him, because, who else?

So it's the evening of AmCel, and in addition to stage managing, I have to guard Tom, because he's a special guest speaker tonight. So I'm double checking everything for the show, to make sure it's ready, when Nick and I hear a scream. We race downstairs to the dressing rooms, kick in Tom's door, and find him dressed in a tuxedo, pressed against the back wall, breathing heavily, sweat running down his face, and terror in his eyes. He raises a shaking hand and points at his locker, and sticking out of it is half a length of arrow. It was a warning, and everyone knew it. Nick pulls the arrow out of the locker door, and sits down at his computer to analyze it, while I try to calm Tom down and get any information he might have on who did this.

And then the room got colder. And darker, though the lights did not dim. And I look over to the closet, and a chill runs down my spine as the door begins to slide open without anyone touching it. Tom lets out another scream and collapses to the floor. Nick doesn't look up from his computer, I don't think he's even aware of what's going on.

So I get in a crouch, grit my teeth, and get ready to pounce on whoever's in the closet when the door's open wide enough. It slides open enough, I leap, and then...

An icicle runs down my spine, and I knew I made a mistake. My joints turn to water and my muscles to jello. Any strength I had is gone.

I get the sense of someone laughing as the closet door begins to shut, trapping me inside. My last glimpse of Tom is quivering flesh and crumpled tuxedo.

The fear is shaking me so bad I can't bear it. I start wimpering. I knew then that the entire dream had been a trap to get me into this box, and as soon as the door shut, I was dead. Oh yes, I knew it was a dream. But there was nothing I could do. I couldn't move.

I manage to queak out a wimper, and it turns into a name. "Aaron, Aaron. Help me." And then I remember that Aaron's in Texas, and cannot help. "Mom. Help. Mom." But Mom is at her home, and you are at your home, and she cannot help. Name after name I wimper out. No one can help. And door inches foward steadily. I get the sense that someone is laughing at me. At my helplessness. At my fear.

With every ounce of my being, I strive to wake up. "Wake up. Wake up." I keep telling myself, a mantra of desperation. "This is a dream. It's not real. Wake up."

Normally, I thrash about, literally thrashing myself awake. But I remembered that I was in a bunk bed, and if I thrashed about, I might fall off.

And then I held onto to that thought for all I was worth. If I'm in a bed, I can't be here. If I'm in a bed, I can't be here. The door is allowing only a sliver of light through. I'm not gonna make it. And then

FLICK. My eyes open. Every muscle in my body is clenched tightly, and my heart is beating so fast it could give hummingbird wings a run for its money. I slowly unclench, taking shuddering breaths, willing my heart to slow down before it bursts. I lean over the side of my bed and look down at the lower bunk. Empty. But out of my room and down the hall, I can hear Nick typing away on his computer.

I glance at the clock. 3:00 am. I turn on my bedside light, curl into a fetal position, and let myself shake for a half hour. Then Nick comes in, ready for bed, and asks, "Do you mind if I turn off the light?"