• Dear Diary,

    I think I might be insane. The deadness of the school year has been chipping away at my soul, and I’ve finally broken. This damage has even begun to haunt my slumber.

    For a fortnight, now, my sleep has been disturbed by the same dream, night after night. It’s not that I dislike this dream, but more that I’m uncomfortable with the content. The dream, it worries me. It tries my patience and tests my mentality.

    It begins the same, without fail. Then it progresses in the same way, before, finally, ending as it has every night. It’s – trippy. The continuity, it’s like a metaphor for my lackluster life.

    This dream is messing with my mind in a way no horror movie ever could. It’s akin to an episode of The Twilight Zone. Everything is seems so ordinary, and yet it’s not.

    The dream begins as I wake to the interior of a forest green pickup. My eyes are immediately drawn to the moving scenery on my right. The familiarly strange, blurred greenery of a forested mountain enraptures my mind.
    Mechanically, my eyes switch their focus. A familiar boy, not much older than I, pilots our vehicle. Because his movements seem moody, I know he is tired. His deep blue eyes focused on the road, his hands steady on the wheel, and I admire his stolid facade.

    I know him, yet, still, I cannot place his origin. I know those eyes, that auburn hair. Those features, so like mine own, are those of a stranger.
    He notices my gaze and smiles the smile of a friend who is closer than “best.” I feel myself smile, in turn, and, in soft silence, I return to my perusal of the landscape.

    I do not recognize the scenery, nor do I wish to. It is an abandoned road in the mountains, nothing more, nothing less. I am satisfied by his nearness alone.

    Our car emerges from the forest, and we’re driving along a cliff. I look down, and shudder. The distance of the ground frightens me, and, uncomfortable, I fidget. His hand rests on my shoulder, and I am calmed. We both know there is no need for words.

    Looking out into the distance, I behold a luminous lake. A hydroplane, dancing gracefully across the lake’s placid surface, draws my attention. Gracefully, it pirouettes on the watery stage.

    The swanlike boat disappears as we turn with the cliff, and we cruise down the road. Words do not pollute the pure silence that hugs us dear. We are at peace.

    The radio switches on; it is quiet, but loud all the same. A bored voice meets my ears. “Out of chaos, comes order,” it drones, repeating indefinitely.
    We are indifferent.

    Static, the broadcast morphs. “Nine banded Armadillos are most commonly found in Texas,” the same jaded, flat voice announces apathetically. We notice not the strange program change or the lack of reasoning. We notice nothing.

    The radio dies; a hard, heavy silence replaces it. I try to relieve it - to speak - only to find I cannot. My lips move, but the words will not come.
    He notices, distracted by my movement, and his visage assumes puzzlement. Concerned, he speaks. His lips are moving, but his words are trapped. We are mute.

    As the realization that we cannot speak sets in, the ground shrinks down, leaving us in the sky. And, we fall, down – our silent screams filling the air.
    This moment stretches on for eternity, it seems. The ground rushes slowly up to meet us, growing ever closer. At the end of forever, we will become one with the earth.

    But, right as we are to be released from our mortal bounds, I wake. It is morning, and my bed is cold with sweat. My heart pounds and I know I’ve looked Death in the face.

    The meaning of this dream, what could it be? What could so disturb my subconscious? I cannot even begin to fathom the reasons behind such a vision!

    Perhaps, one day, I will find Him. I will ask the meaning of the dream, and he’ll answer me. Until then this vision’s meaning will evade me. But, I will wait, though his answer may never come, with patience. For, I believe he will rescue me from this nightmare.

    Jinx