Talk:Nightmares & Dreamscapes/@comment-26443570-20150528210449

I guess it's been a while since I've had a dream worth remembering, but I'll see if I can remember enough about it.

I dreeam either vividly, or not at all. There's not really anything in between. I either have a faint memory, or a vivid sensation that clings to me for ages to come.

I'm in a dark room. I'm sitting on the railings of a prison, and the lights are out, baring a few small, intermittent crackling bits of light that seem to float in the middle of the room; the darkness swallowing any errant bits that would dare to put any sort of concrete description. It's cold. Incredibly cold, the sort of bone numbing cold that you've only really experienced if you're in the middle of an icestorm. Everything aches.

And just like the icestorm of my youth, there's no noise. I'm sitting at the edge of the railings of a prison, multiple stories of cages stacked on top of each other, and there's no noise. No muffled complaints, not even the sound of mice or other animals. Behind me, though I can't say how I know it (it's a dream, after all) is an inky black abyss of a void. There's no floor, and no lights, and nothing is down there. Just a cold, dark hole in the ground.

I hop off of the rail at some point, and the sound of my shoes hitting the ground echoes through the metal catwalk I'm on, and the entire building resonates like a tuning fork, an audible, bone rattling humming noise.

And I keep walking forward.

The sound of my feet is destroyed by whatever force keeps the rest of the place silent and frozen. I pass the first cage and there's nobody in there; just cold concrete attached to cold, rusty metal. No noises.

My eyes ache at his point from the lack of light. I rub my arms and pause at the next empty cell, looking into it. Still nothing.

And the next cell. Still nothing.

Then there's finally a noise, and it is a deep, rasping, echoing noise, the sort you get from blade on bone, from the sick kiss of metal and marrow, and the hairs on the back of my neck raise.

Contrary to the pattern, the next cell has someone in it. She's a girl. Blazing fiery hair, cascading down around her shoulders like a cloak, and she's boredly looking at her nails. Then she looks up, and at me.

And I don't mean me in the dream. There's this sensation that, yes, she's aware she doesn't exist, and she's looking at me, and judging, with green eyes that don't quite seem to add up to the correct amount of angles, and look more like gems than anything you can see out of.

She whispers a word from lips as red as blood.

"Run."

The marriage of metal and marrow happens again behind me, and the catwalk gives an agonizing death's cry as it bends.

Despite the girl staring at me, and with distaste now, I run.

I run hard. The catwalk crunches, and in the dim light, I can see a door in front of me made of metal. I lunge for it more than run, and because of it my legs hits the catwalk, the rusty catwalk, and blood is decorating my shins. It's cold as ice.

I get the door open. It creaks for only a moment before the sound is killed off.

And then I'm through the door, into another, cold, dark, catwalk, surrounded by cells.

The door won't shut at first, and I peer through at what remains of the cell. There's nothing there. The inky void has devoured it all with one swoop,, without a noise.

And two eyes appear. Except they aren't really eyes. They're triangles, on long, bladed appendages, glowing idly, lethargically.

The creature I am running from has a mouth full of teeth that are made of metal, with rusty blood leaking out and buckling the metal underneath.

The door slams shut as it looks at me without eyes.

Metal and marrow, again.

Behind me.

The catwalk snaps and buckles, and I fall.