I didn’t recognize where I was. All I knew was that pure light surrounded me, overloading my senses. My mouth opened, yet I didn’t make a sound. I extended my arm, groping ahead of me for whatever surface I could find. My fingers were met with… a wheel.
The sound of an engine roared from somewhere within the light. Tires swerved, and voices shrieked.
Bang.
Metal tearing into metal. Incoherent, shrill cries produced from the back of the car. Was this truly happening again? My head jerked forward with the momentum of the vehicle. The commotion ceased as suddenly as it arrived, leaving me in a state of disarray. The cold night air seeped in through the shattered window, erecting the hairs on my arms. Everything was still.
It was a dream. I knew it was a dream. So why could I so vividly sense the beads of sweat trickling down my arms and pooling around my knuckles? How is it that a figment of my subconscious mind was able to perfectly replicate the texture of the leather-coated steering wheel which I so desperately clung to? Internally, I knew what would greet me if I were to shift my gaze to my right. Then I felt it. The round object slumped against my shoulder. The messy strands of hair against my arm. The warm liquid droplets falling and splashing against my hand.
I couldn’t even form a coherent thought before my attention shifted to the sudden weight pressed against my left shoulder. Five slender fingers held me in their grip. My head spun around in the opposite direction to observe who was touching me. Upon doing so, my gaze was met with an arm reaching through the shattered window. I tilted my head up, and before me stood a man.
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He stood tall, adorned with black jeans and a grey dress suit. His frame was much too small for his clothes, however. He appeared fragile; the skin of his arms seemed to loosely stretch over the bone underneath. It was as if he would disintegrate if even the slightest force were applied to him.
Despite the situation around me, my body eased into the seat. I felt a sensation of relief wash over me. He carried an unexplainable aura of familiarity about him. Even despite his malnourished frame, even despite his lanky stature, even despite his face appearing to have been blurred out of existence entirely, I did not fear him.
It almost depressed me that my encounter with him was brief, as I awoke before my eyes scanned what should have been his face. It all happened so fast. I placed my hand on my left shoulder, running my fingertips along its surface. The imprint that would have been left by the man was not there. Of course, it wasn’t. It was just a nightmare, after all. I can’t say for certain I understand what I dreamt of that night. It all felt so real. I didn’t recognize the man I encountered either, so how could I possibly have felt such an intrinsic connection between him and I?
Although I’m not sure what to make of it, I can’t help but get the sneaking suspicion that there’s more to this than I’m currently comprehending. After all, a dream is said to be a gateway into the subconscious. Whatever the case may be, I’ll be sure to keep you guys updated. Thank you for reading all I’ve had to say up to this point.