The Dream

I often had dreams in which an unknown assailant was attacking me. Usually, they left me in a cold sweat as soon as I awoke from them. Tonight was slightly different, and no better than usual. Always, these dreams became increasingly worse.

I would always find myself standing in a clearing near a swamp, singing to myself a melody that sounded an awful lot like "Onward Christian Soldiers",something that was often sung in my church. I knew very well that I couldn't sing as well as I did in the dream; instead of the rich, gospel tenor voice that was released from my lips, I instead had a singing voice that closely resembled the sound of a cat dying-it was awful.

The moon dangled low in the sky, a bloody slab in the otherwise black heavens. Stars were absent, and in their place hovered stringy clouds. When the wind whipped around and caressed my cheeks and bare arms, I shivered. Why was I wearing only a sleeveless shirt when I'd gone to bed in soft, silky pajamas? I glanced downwards at my thin, waiflike body and instead found myself to have muscular definition. My flesh tingled at the thought of the changes that possibly occurred within me overnight.

I lifted my head upon the sound of another voice. Images flashed in front of my eyes. I could see myself falling upon a hard dock of wood, slamming my mouth against the surface hard. I couldn't be near water...oh, I just couldn't. I would probably fall in and drown. A tooth came loose, and I turned my head to the side to spit it out.

Next thing I knew, I was on my back, hard hands wrapped around my throat. Croaking sounds emerged from my open mouth. I couldn't breathe...could scarcely see. Was this what death was like?

Another haunting scene flickered in and out of my mind like a dying flame. A white face, with rotting flesh, dark circles around the eyes, and dark lips, could be seen under the surface of the pond. An eye popped open and I screamed.

I awoke in bed with a loud outcry, terrified by the dream. My breath was coming out in quick gasps. Pressing a hand against my chest, I gasped for air, as if the hands were still clamped around my throat and I was viewing the rotting corpse. The dream was too much for me to stand.

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