I dreamt...

I was in my bed, as of late I'm starting to sleep in the middle, vs the old method of sleeping off to the side, a space saved for a person who will never come. Yet at morning, I always seem to return to my respective corner.

I have a small alcove to the top right and left of my bed, flanked by windows covered in sheets of kevlar and large trauma plates. I like the light of 3 exposures in one room, but not at this risk of being killed in my sleep by a agent tasked with death from afar.

I was about to doze off when I was grabbed and thrown in to the small space to the right hand side of my bed, along with me came my sheets, blankets, and lost in the shuffle the smg I keep under my pillow. When I realized what was happening I raced up the vacuum as I kept being pulled in, climbing up the sheets as they whipped past me in the opposite direction. I was being thrown back, yet couldn't feel anything holding on to me.

For some reason I had the vision of a demonic creature, sort of how I recall the agent employed by the Nothing from the Never Ending Story. (When I was a child, I loved this story, I always thought it so grand and epic. I fell a bit in love with the name (se)Bastian...it always seemed iconic and noble, perhaps since then. Then again I did have the same haircut, ha, so did Elizabeth) I didn't see it, yet I knew it was in the room, it was behind what happen, and it was after me.

I fought and clawed my way out , threw myself up on to the bed and on to the floor to get a proper footing. I knew I was in danger, and something was in the room for the express purpose to kill me. The room seemed much larger. I looked across the room and saw my door was open (it's never open) So I rushed over and slammed it closed, wedged it with a block as well as locked it.

It may have escaped, but something told me it had not. I looked around and saw nothing, yet I did not not see what threw me about. However the lack of evidence did not lead me to conclude the vacancy of my would be assassin.

Something told me, if i stood to face my intruder, that I would face my maker as well...and so I yelled for it to show it self, for it to have the common decency, and sense of honour to attack me to my face, rather than attack in me in my sleep. I screamed to the room that it had made it this far, that it's grand act of cowardice at this point only serves to shames itself.

As I was building up the readiness to face a world of pain (for myself) I thought of it odd...how I fight in this fashion, and yet so many would have ran out the open door rather than lock themselves in with their enemy, especially with out a weapon. That many would run away, to fight another day, and here I was ready to jump off a cliff without a chute. I asked myself why I must dance amongst the fine line between heroism and stupidity, between honour and idiocy. I questioned why I must always do what's right, but not always what's smart.

I woke up still waiting for the creature to show itself...It never did.

¶ 12/13/2006 03:32:00 AM

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