Lucid Dreams

Part One

He pants in as much air as he can while sweating through the thin green-moisture-wicking-sweater as he bolts down one hallway after the other. His big and mucky yellow eyes peer around for anything that might become an obstacle or an exit as they barely hide underneath his brunette hair that has a slight hint of red in it. The soles of his sneakers begin to wear out from pounding against the wooden floorboards that creak from his quick footsteps. His young body keeps him energized as one closed door passes him after the other, but there seems to be no end to this labyrinth he's in. 'Where's the exit in this damn place?!' He questions to himself in frustration as his lungs strive for more air. 'Why can't I get out of here?! There has to be an escape route somewhere!' the sky explodes with a thunder bolt and disrupts the noise of rain outside the mansion, but the boy does not cease his search for freedom from the house. Suddenly, on a turn to the next hallway, something new presents itself, a mirror... The boy stops once he sees this new object in the setting, it must mean something... He takes his time, slowly stepping towards the mirror with every ounce of caution in his steps and not keeping his eye off it. Once he and the mirror are finally face to face he stares at his own shadowy reflection in the dark of night with great attention. The rain continues to pour down and keep the dreadful silence away from this moment, but this is still not enough to ease the boy with his suspicion that's placed on his own reflection. Another flash of lightning illuminates the room to show the details of himself in the mirror, as the second passes by he doesn't find anything out of place with himself. Long seconds go by before another rode of electricity from the cloudy sky strikes the earth to brighten the scene. Still nothing to be worried about. Out of the darkness, just behind him, there's an unfamiliar figure that sticks out. Was that always there? What is it anyway? The boy now focuses in on the odd matter, but dares not to turn around... Why won't he move?...

Elfram jolts within his bed and awakes to the new day that awaits him. His eyes squint which forces him to search on the cabinet next to his bed for his glasses next to the alarm clock. Feeling the frames on his fingertips he snatches them and adjusts the frames to fit his face properly as he sits up. With his vision fixed he looks to the clock for the time.

3:09am

The little boys sighs from his routine of early rising. It's not uncommon for him to wake up at this hour, but for some reason it's always nine minutes past three in the morning. He's told his parents about this and so they've tried to do anything they can to make his sleep apnea stop along with his own recording of the habit, but nothing seems to work. He always wakes up exactly at 3:09am, no matter what he or the doctors have done, it's always nine after three in the morning.

He opens the top drawer of his cabinet and pulls out a diary that he's been using for a month now. This mental disorder, though, has been occurring since he was about six, that's the earliest he can remember. The dreams aren't new to him, but it wasn't until recently since he's said anything about it, his twelfth birthday in October last year. Elfram also takes out the pen that he leaves in there specifically for his dream diary, thanks to his Obsessive Compulsion Disorder. The lamp placed behind his alarm clock must be turned on before he can even think to start his entry and so he twists the little knob and makes it go click to lighten up his bed space.

Before telling the story of his dream he properly places the date at the top of the fresh page, "May, 20, 2016, 3:09am." This is how he starts all his entries, and that's how they all must begin. Now he can continue on to recording his lucid dream.

"Dear Diary,

I had yet another strange dream that woke me up at my usual hour. As any other dream, I can't remember the beginning or how it got to this, but I can tell you what I remember. I was running through a maze of hallways within a really creepy mansion... I think it was a mansion... Well, it was a big house, and I had the compulsing urge to escape, so I ran. It was night so it was dark in there, but there was also rain and lightning, I guess that helped with my vision... But then at the end of one hall I stumbled upon a mirror... That thing was creepy, but I walked up to it anyway and for some reason examined my own reflection as the lightning would periodically light up the room... And then I woke up...

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

My thoughts on this particular dream: Do I somehow feel trapped? Is it because of my OCD? Do I have too many insecurities for my own good? Is that why I'm so suspicious about myself; that would explain the mirror I suppose...

Sincerely yours,

Elfram."

With a little grin on his face for doing such a good job at reporting he neatly places the pen and dream diary back into the drawer before he closes it. After that he makes sure to turn off his little lamp, and simply sits in his bed waiting for dreamland to take over him again. Despite his constant attempt with this every morning, he doesn't feel sleepy anymore, even if he didn't write down what he remembered of his dream. So instead of sitting in the darkness and waiting for the sun to show, Elfram turns his lamp back on and opens the drawer beneath the top one to whip out a book for reading until the sun may also arise.

Part Two

One Mississippi-two Mississippi...

She counts the seconds that go by.

Three Mississippi-four Mississippi...

She can't remember how many times she's had to start over with her counting all because she couldn't remember what number she was on.

Seven Mississippi-eight Mississippi...

It's nothing but a loop with no beginning or end. The darkness gives her no indication of how much time has passed. It tells her no tails of anyone else that may have been here before her. There's nothing here, just her voice.

Fifteen Mississippi-twenty Mississippi...

What comes after twenty again? Did she even count that correctly? Does fourty come before ten? She's been counting so much that all the numbers are jumbled up in her head now. No matter to the pattern or the order of what digit comes first. Why is it important anyway? Why is she here in the first place? How did she get here? Has she always been here? Perhaps rambling about something else will ease her mind of boredom and insanity.

One plus one equals two...

Maybe some simple math will help her remember the order of numbers. Adding simple figures out loud is surpressing the shakiness that's been building up inside of her as of late. She can hear her own voice a little better now. After counting in one line for so long has made her become dull and deaf to the sound of her own vocals. She then realizes that she's forgotten her own name. What was it again? Does she even have a name? If not, what would it hurt if she named herself? It's not like she knows anyone. What would she name herself, though? All she can remember are numbers. Why is that? Are there any other facts and or forms of knowledge that she knows about from the top of her head?

Five hundred plus five hundred equels three...

Is she even doing this right? Who makes the rules of math anyway? It might be best to go to a different subject. Names of countries sound nice, in alphabetical order.

Australia, Bolivia, Canada, Denmark, Etheopia...

Does she have a family? Why have these questions come to her mind now of all times? When did she even contract her consiousness? Enough of the inquiries, there's no point to ask them if there are no answers. She knows facts and that's all that matters. If any thing, she can make up her own story of her life. Hell, she doesn't even have to be a girl. She can become he whenever he likes.

France, Genova, Hungary, Italy, Jamaica, Kenya...

His thoughts then move toward what sort of family he would have. What would his parents be like? A father who is strong and caring. A mother who is gentle and kind. Would he have any siblings? One could suppose. He could have an older sister, but not by much, maybe two years older than him. Then he can have a little brother, maybe five years younger. But then how old would he be? Would he be in his teens, twenties? He thinks it would be nice for him to be married to a lovely woman. She's not over-the-top attractive, but fair-looking. She's sweet and funny. They can also have a daughter, about three years old. Yes, that sounds like a happy family.

Lichenstein, Morocco, Romania, Paris, Venice...

No, no, no, that doesn't sound right. Who makes these rules anyway? Who makes up these names and rules of existence? Why can't he make up his own stuff? He desides to make up his own language.

Fiirnäk, drechen, kalthopia, garmlen, hishtah, şiţaak, glumek...

He finds this more fun than trying to remember things properly. Actually, he could technically make up his own world. That sounds like fun! He could probably make up his own gender as well. Hell, it can make up whatever it wants, it's not like there's anyone here to stop it. There's a whole space of emptiness for it to use up and play with.

Vüshnah, rell, bip, inwapedi, yuuktah, tendah, mikibi, frell, tyun, opunak...

It then starts to think about how long ago since it felt happy. This whole time it was contempt or depressed, but now it is happy. The realization that it doesn't have anyone or anything to limit itself brings joy and frees it. Forms begin to shape around it from the mind until it creates a complete landscape. There's grass, rolling hills, a blue sky with white clouds, a gentle breeze, and the wonderful sound of trees ruffling their leaves to the wind. Surely there can also be people and animals here. It tries a little harder to think of what sort of people should be here. Yes, friendly and calm people. That should complete this world.

This is the end of darkness and lonliness, of failure and being unsure. It is now time for it to actually live instead of simply being consciouss.

It is time, to be more.