I'm falling again. The clouds are vertical and the skyscrapers are horizontal and I'm falling down in between the two. I've had this dream a couple of times already. I never actually hit the ground yet. They usually say when that happens in your dream you die in real life, some stupid urban legend or something.
It's sad though right? Here I am falling to my death in my dream and I'm full on embracing it. I want it to happen. I want to meet my impending doom. Maybe then I'll finally be free of this hell I've casted myself in. But it won't happen; obviously someone up there likes to watch me suffer. I close my eyes and wait for myself to wake up from this dream.
The alarm blares off and I feel like shit. My head hurts and my eyes already ache. I turn the alarm off and get out of bed. 'Time to get ready for the everyday ritual' I say in a peppy attitude in my head mocking myself. I sigh heavily and get out of bed. I set off to find clothes for the day.
It's already five thirty and I have to be at work at six. It's only a ten-minute walk but I like to be early. It gives me enough time to make it seem like I'm happy and not this empty mess. I make a quick breakfast of toast and pour coffee into my travel's mug. I grab my shoes slip them on and head out the door. Descending the stairs of the apartment complex, I put on my fake smile like I do every morning and set off for work. It's just another ordinary day.
Work seems to drag on worse then normal. But then again I always think this. I open the door to my apartment and kick my shoes off before heading to the bedroom. I hit play on the stereo system and the album starts back up where it left off. Seven songs into the album, this one is only instrumental. I skip it. I just want to hear his voice. The next song starts, quick light strumming before it picks up into the song. His voice starts off very soothing before it becomes more enraged with the melody. I begin taking of my work cloths to put on something a bit more comfortable, though it's not like I'm going to leave my room much. I have a living room with a nice television and surround system hooked up, but what's the point when you barely feel alive… it is called a 'living' room after all.
The song beings to calm down, his voice becomes more soothing again as the chorus breaks in. I want to sing along, I know all the words. I just can't bring myself too do so. Instead I sit on my bed looking at the only thing I have of his that he left. A picture he put up above my stereo. It's a simple black and white photo of an everyday ordinary man. He is not smiling. There is nothing special about the picture; it is very plain and boring. The only thing that makes it interesting is in the black background it reads 'The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me,' in white. I feel part of myself in this photo in every way. Constantly feeling at war with not only my emotions and intentions but the will to live and die also. I close my eyes and lay down. It's only three in the afternoon and I'm ready for bed. I grab my phone and set an alarm for five. A nap couldn't hurt…
His voice fills my cloudy mind. I can't tell what he is singing but I know it's his voice. There is nothing around me just the emptiness I've grown accustom to the feeling. I'm standing in the middle of a never-ending hallway. I look forward it seems to stretch on forever but at the end there is a bright light. In the other direction it's the same but at the end it seems to get swallowed up by the darkness.
Some of the blurred objects that were once just apart of the wall being to come into focus. The hallway begins to look more like it belongs to a hospital. Doorways being to forum going down the hallway, however there are no doors. Just an indentation of what is supposed to be. Signs being to come into focus next, they are simple number markers; the one closest to me reads fifteen. The next-door sign is to far away to tell what number it is. Not caring which way I go, I press forward going in the direction of the bright light.
Indentations of where windows should be begin to forum as I continue forward, but like the door frames there are no actual windows. Still I press forward, not sure what I am seeking here. My bare feet slap against the white tiles. The ground is cold but I don't mind, it's a comforting coldness. The walls and ceiling are also white or off-white. I always hated how boring hospitals were colored. It makes it so dreary and morbid. Like death is only a step away. His voice still echoes in my head. It sounds like my favorite song of his.
The next sign comes into focus; it reads fifteen, just like the last one had. I turn around. Everything was placed how it was the last time I looked down the hallway, the darkness still in place. This time I don't walk, I run forward. The sign comes up much faster now but again reads fifteen. I continue on still pressing forward. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. They are all read fifteen…
Frustrated I change direction and head toward the darkness. Maybe I'm not intended to go toward the light. I walk toward the darkness, accepting my fate to come. The next sign reads fourteen. In the doorframe there is an actually door with a knob and everything. I reach for the knob and try to turn it, but it's locked. I leave the door behind and continue down toward the darkness.
Thirteen, locked. Twelve locked. His singing seems to be getting louder the farther I go. This continues down till I reach the number six. The door is cracked. The singing is even louder still. I push the door open…
My phone rings, its loud and ridiculous ringtone waking me from my slumber. I have already forgotten my dream. It's five now; I get up and turn it off, already getting a headache from the excessive noise. The album is still playing; it's restarted itself at least twice by now. It's playing my favorite song again. The memory floods to my mind but I quickly push it away. I go to the kitchen to make dinner. Continuing on with my everyday ritual. Dinner, sulk, shower, then finally sleep. No sense in breaking away from it now. I've already been doing this for far to long now.
The rest of the night is uneventful; it's the same as the day before, and the day before that. Like a never-ending cycle of shit I keep putting myself through. Again as I'm about to sleep I hope to not wake up in the morning. It's the only thing I've been holding on to. My last and only sign of hope left, to die while I sleep. One can only hope…