Viana
It was the same as always. A house and smiling faces. The faces were all blurred, but every now and then, every face shimmered at the edges, teetering on the verge of definition, as if they were about to break through the haze and let me in but they stayed hidden, just out of reach like memories I could no longer touch. I would stand in the foyer, watch the family dine and laugh. Even without seeing their faces, I knew they were happy. Just one big happy family having dinner together. Sometimes there were four people, sometimes five sitting at the table but that never changed the course of the dream. Even if I'd had this dream countless times, it always got to me.
It was happening again and I was helpless. All I could do was watch. I was immobilized. The smell of smoke scented the air and I panicked. I always panicked. It was as if my brain was programmed to. Then the fire burned. Sometimes, the fire would raze the house to the ground. Sometimes, it would burn the bodies of those faceless people, tormenting me, forcing me to watch as their love was destroyed. They would burn and burn, never noticing me. I was just a spectator, Outside looking in.
But one thing was different about this dream. The burning bodies turned and pointed at me. Their lips began to move and malice scented the air so much that I could taste it on my lips. I could not hear a thing but it sounded like a chant. I was rooted to that spot as always. My horror building, I watched these burning bodies move towards me, crumpling to the ground and crawling; never stopping their descent towards me. Even as their skin flayed away, until all that was left was melting bones, they still tried to get to me; to end me. I could not run, I could not hide. I could only watch in horror as my dream changed for the first time.
And then, I heard their voices, neither male nor female. It was a cacophony of screeches so loud I thought my eardrums would burst. But they kept saying the same thing over and over.
" It is your fault."
✨
I jogged down the street, pushing my body to its limit. I rounded the corner and almost tripped. Fuck, my mind was all over the place and I could not even focus on the simple act of exercising.
I opened the bottle attached to me, chugging down its contents greedily. I was dehydrated, hot, out of breath and confused. All because of a dream.
I started the short trek back home, kicking dirt out of my way. The ground was littered in the typical student area way. I looked around me.
The streets pulsed with a restless energy, brick buildings lined the blocks. Those around this section of the block looked like they had seen better days. Apartment complexes with peeling paint and barely tended lawns were what made up this part of the block.
The further uptown I walked, the changes became visible. The condition of the houses morphed, giving way to newer apartments with sleek glass fronts and balconies cluttered with folding chairs and string lights.
The sidewalks buzzed with different people with different objectives, every one In a hurry to be somewhere. The air smelled like espresso, street food and the faint musk of too many people crammed into old buildings.
But even with all these activities going on around, I still could not settle my mind. The dream I had still disturbed me. Before, it was always just that; a nightmare. But now, I could not shake the feeling that there was something more to it. There was this nagging at the back of my mind urging me not to dismiss the dream. But how could I not, when I had not the smallest inkling as to what it meant?
I let my feet carry me until I arrived back at my apartment. I did not want to go in yet. It was too early and my dream was still too raw but I had no choice. It was Thursday." Family day", I thought sarcastically.
The apartment was a modest two-bedroom tucked into a quiet building just a few blocks from campus. My father had handled the lease, naturally. It was one of his conditions before he would let me out of his house. He made sure the neighborhood was safe, the building well-maintained and private. Well, it was understandable considering the kind of things he washed his hands in.
I opened the door and stepped into the warmth, a pleasant change considering the chill I had gathered outside. The place had slowly taken on my personality. The living room was cosy and lived in, considering the amount of time I had slept in it, either too tired to go to my room or I was escaping the shadows that seemed to mock me anytime I woke from a dream.
A small bookshelf held a mix of well-worn novels, old notebooks and various school texts. My laptop sat on the coffee table beside a stack of research work that I could not seem to finish.
This was my place and although Dad put me on watch, it was still mine. It was the only thing I had partially owned my whole life.
I went straight to the bathroom to prepare for family day. It was a ritual that started when I came to college. And even if it was named family day, it was just me and my parents. I was the only one who had to show up. There was a time I was down with the flu and I could not make it. Dad threatened to take the house away and I knew without a doubt that he would do it.
Family day was more like torture day for me. It was just dad's way of asserting dominance and reminding me exactly who was in charge.
I entered my room and stopped dead in my tracks. Soft wind fluttered the curtains covering the window. The curtains were still drawn as I had left them. But there was a problem. For the wind to flutter in, the window had to be unlocked. I always lock my window before going to bed and I certainly haven't opened it this morning.
A quiet tremor of dread brushed through my chest. For that window to be open, it could only mean one thing. Someone is in my house.