Dream of the Raven's Gate VI

Wednesday




I awoke in my bed, sweating and exhausted as the the sun warmed my room. I had some far-off memory of a dream and some hint of a nightmare, but my mind was completely blank. I couldn't even remember getting into bed, but I must have, since I was here. There was a rather odd sensation in the sheets, and I threw them back to find my linens filthy and damp. My feet were covered in grass clippings and mud. I had no lawn, and no recollection of having gone out barefoot in the night. A sinister dread filled my thoughts as I began to examine the rest of my body. My knees ached, and both knees and my right hand were swollen and bruised. My head hurt some, but not like any headache I had ever felt. More like trying to think under water whilst a marching band played just above the surface. I turned in the bed, dropped my soiled feet onto the floor and discovered immediately that I must have had some kind of episode during the night. My room was a mess, the drawers of my dresser and armoire open and rummaged through. 'How strange' I thought to myself as I began to make my way out of the bed holding me captive.

I stopped as I rose, my reflection in the obviously broken mirror halting all voluntary muscle control. My face was bruised, a shiner hung on my left eye like a badge of confusion. But worse than that, someone had put contact in my eyes! My eyes were dark, and hollow, and something else... difficult to nail down, but I looked older somehow. I got to my feet as quickly as I could, and to my amazement, could barely walk. The pain in my leg was excruciating, and flared from my ankle into my calf. "Fucking tore a tendon?" I asked the empty bedroom. So I hobbled to the bathroom, and began the arduous task of washing my battered body. While I was standing before the bathroom mirror, I realized I could not take the contacts out. Maybe I was drugged? Maybe something happened to me and I have blood in my eyes or something.... First to wash, then to call my doctor. I washed...and cried... and the pain made it impossible to do anything but.

After my visit to the doctor's office (thank God for sick-visit priority), I mulled over the results. Acquired heterochromia, probably caused by blunt trauma to the head. The other damage seemed to be a result of some kind of bar fight (me? In a bar fight?). The memory loss was also attributed to blunt-force trauma. CT scans and a bloodwork showed nothing abnormal, so the doctor chalked it up to a fight and told me to get some rest. So that was the plan... home to rest. Wish I had before putting the TV on.

"...officer was beaten to death and found mutilated..."

"In a dumpster" I finished, chiming along with the announcer.

"...Police are currently investigating, and remain tight-lipped" the TV barked at me as my head swam with fear and confusion. The face of the young policeman on the screen smiled back at me, his cadet-new shirt contrasting with his pale skin. I had seen this man before, somewhere, and recently. But where? And why did I seem to know that his body was found in a dumpster before I heard the words coming out of the newscaster's mouth? "Well, I must have heard it somewhere in my travels, then." It was my rational mind commanding to quell the madness swelling in side of me. "But his face!!!!" Again... my mind reared up...

"You did thisss"

I started, my heart racing. "Who said that?" I screamed into the empty apartment. But there was no one there. I was alone.



Continued