New Nightmare
Chapter 1
A blackish purple fog enveloped her face. She could feel the uncomfortably warm mist creep around her joints and up her body. The metallic clanging, not unlike the sharp collision of metal upon metal, seemed slightly musical to her covered ears. She was afraid to breathe. Afraid of what would happen if she inhaled, if she allowed the fog to gain entrance to herself. She felt smothered. She wanted to move, but it was so hard, so very very hard.
It pressed on her. The fog spread itself out and seemed to weigh her down. Her limbs felt heavy and not hers. She felt like she was dragging someone else's overweight body.
She felt the others. But who were they, really? She could feel their footfalls through the dampness below her. She wasn't sure if it was blood, sweat, water, or something much worse. Whatever it was, the coolness was a pleasant change to the oppressive mist above.
Bit by bit, she worked one of her hands free (or so she thought?) to grasp at anything or anyone! Something had to be able to help her. Something. Someone.
PLEASE!
Valerie Dentsu shot upright in her sweat soaked bed. Damp tendrils of her hair were matted to her face, criss crossing her features in a honey blonde web. Pillows were piled at her feet, sheets and blankets cocooned her body.
"That dream," she thought tiredly, "That goddamned NIGHTMARE again."
She reached over to her nightstand to grab the battered notebook that she used to record her nightmares. Save for a handful of pages at the end, this notebook was covered in frantic scribblings about her frequent dreams. Unfortunately, this was one of those times when she had been shaking so badly, that even writing was a chore.
The dreams weren't so bad at first. She was only a spectator, not the participant as she had been experiencing lately. Valerie couldn't connect herself to what she was seeing. It was like watching a movie. There had been no real emotional connection, yet. She couldn't even remember when she started to feel. It was horrible, and yet it was so hard for her to wake up and just realize that it was all in her head.
She snorted. Her head was creating all these fantastical situations and planting them in her sleep. She knew that the basis of dreams were for the brain to collect memories and sensations from the previous day and compile them into neat little packages we called dreams. Her nightmares were anything BUT neat.
She had an impending engagement. She had a successful and not horribly stressful career. She had friends who loved her and family who adored her, even from far away. Her life was neat. Her dreams were not.
Every nightmare brought her millimeters closer to more answers. Every nightmare also brought her closer to a newer nightmare.