Restless Dreams

It was the end of the world, and she was all alone, unable to move. In an abandoned house, on an empty street, she was stranded. There were no barking dogs, no children laughing, no birds chirping. The loneliness consumed her, wrapping around her like a cocoon.

Lying paralyzed between dirty sheets, she stared at the ceiling, her heart feeling as if it were pounding in her head. The silence was overwhelming; it seemed as though it drained more and more life from her with every breath that she took.

Wake up, wake up, wake up. The words echoed in her mind, over and over like a broken record. Please, let me wake up.

This was a dream, of course. It had to be. There was no way this silence, this emptiness that she felt was real. She blinked, warm, salty tears streaming down her face. Her eyes flickered across the room, from the cracked, pale blue paint covering the walls, to the cobwebs spread out like curtains across the window sill. The air tasted like stale dust, as the house had long been empty.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.

If possible, her heart seemed to pound harder by the second, overcoming everything else. It began to take on a tune, like drums, a marching band strolling along the streets of her imagination. Her vision blurred, her mind clouded over, her breathing came in short, jagged patterns.

Oh, God, please, wake up!

Everything started to fade as she clung desperately to what consciousness she had left. Something wasn't right about this. This felt too real.

Then the room went dark, silent. No marching band. No spiderwebs. No taste of bitter air. Just darkness.

She did not wake up.