Betrayal of the Light

Seven

Death must have spared me for a reason. Though gazing out the window, far beyond bright waters reaching a cold horizon, I find this reason not. How many times have I asked myself why my lungs still breathe the air of this realm?

Eyes closed, fingers are going through my hair, gently pulling on the strands; this is her. She seems careless today, wrapped in a corset of white lace and leather that flows down into a veil, covering her legs like a waterfall. She must be the one I read about; none other.

“I am tired,” she whispers softly, letting herself fall into my arms. “Let them have me.”

Then, under her weight, the image fades to nothing. From the darkness emerges the same colorblind place where I fell sleep. She is gone, of her lingers but a fading scent and nothing more.

“Where…?” I whisper.

No matter. She was never here to begin with. I open the shutters and lean outwards, checking my watch under the doubting moonlight. She was a dream; it seems, so far away from me and the battles I wage; unable to rest until my demons fear me for a change.

After the rest of the night passes sleepless, I walk into the lounge at the break of dawn. Damien welcomes my weary appearance with a steaming cup of… something; bitter. Ideal pairing for a conversation long overdue.

“You remember almost nothing, do you?” he asks.

“Nay,” I reply still absently chasing illusions. “Truth is, brother, there is no cure for my disease.”

“Not the way you see it.”

“How else should I see it?” I spit the words out.

“With less sarcasm, that is for sure. Tell me, would you trust me enough to let me enter your sleeping mind and fish for information beyond?”

I do not like the sound of that, but I shake my head in approval and smile uncomfortable. How damaging could it be? I ask myself while he walks down into the cellar and returns with heavy steps.

“Drink this,” he says handing me a cold glass.

So cold, in fact, that its shell is frosted, my fingers melting streaks over it. I agreed to trusting his methods, so I down it in a single pour down my throat. The liquid runs as if crystal pain out through my veins, until I fall into a state that can be nothing but death. No, not death, for my heartbeat is still barely noticeable. Numb, deep within my slumber, I do not feel a thing; not a shiver runs through my body, of neither cold nor fear. I admit this terrifies even the shadow of my existence as I know it.

“Speak out your name,” are the words which break the veil between dream and reality.

“Dante,” I whisper through my bloodless lips.

“You sound insecure. What is it you see?”

“Nothing…” I struggle. “Only darkness.”

“It’s not as dark as you might think. Reality is only a construct of your mind. Whatever you imagine in this moment can take tangible form.”

I close my eyes and fall into oblivion so hard I hit its end; reopening them only at the reassuring sign of a soft wind blowing through my hair. Down on my knees, I awake lost amongst a grotesque scene that makes the blood in my veins run cold. Senses heightened, as an instinct warns me of threat ahead.

“The obsidian ground is drained of life,” I say after standing up and brushing some dust off. “Cracked. Splinters of it cut into my bare soles before turning to dust. I leave bloody footprints behind, but I feel no pain. No feeling than that of death… of the end to….”

“This is a state of lucid dreaming: nothing can harm you; open your eyes of your own accord and it will disappear.”

“Makes me feel so much safer now,” I attempt to scare my insecurities with sarcasm, for awakening seems impossible. “There is nothing I should fear. Maybe just the black vines spreading out tightly rooted over this ground and over the sharp, shattered rocks. Or the sky above me painted in cryptic pitch-black, covered in shadowy, ashen clouds, which merge with the ground beyond the horizon. Or the lightning that strikes aimlessly, leaving small shards to linger behind while shedding crisp light that brightens up the edges of this landscape for a second.”

“That sounds…”

“Did I mention how blissful it feels?” I interrupt him with even more sarcasm. “Further to my right there is a raging waterfall that flows violently from the split cliffs surrounding it, into a small lake. It’s not fueled with water however, but with dark red blood, as the dried-out weeping willows hang over it with branches like a wraith's bony fingers. They twist and snap to a cold, vivid wind that throws hairs and dust in my eyes. I guess this killed the mood.”

“Take a few steps towards the lake,” his voice sounds soothing. “Does it frighten you?”

“It gives me a headache.”

I oblige, though no matter my caution, something breaks under my foot. Shattered remains of an animal skull. Why did it make no sound? I approach the pond, branches scratching at me angered and tormented.

“Aside from that; what does it make you feel like?”

“Death,” I say. “The shadows are at war with each other when the lightning does not scare them into refuge. I sense the stench of blood, bleeding down my face, and decay. It lingers as the waterfall, in its ferocious flow, splashes my face.”

After saying that, I get closer; determined to follow the feeling luring me closer to it. I step up on the rocks as they painfully cut into my feet like dull and rusty daggers. Painless, I slip and fall deep into the engulfing mass. The iron-like taste of blood is filling up my mouth while I sink deeper within. I struggle to reach the surface, desperate for air. But weeds tangle around my feet, making that impossible. In a daze, I dive into its depths to try and loosen them, but all I achieve is tightening them around my ankles.

“I think it is time for you to wake up,” he demands, his voice clear through the waters.

His words cut clean through the weeds like a sharp blade, letting me break free at last. I swim to the surface; emerging violently for a grasp of air that fills up my lungs. I cough and open my eyes amazed at my surroundings.

“No,” I say. “I like it here. The shadows comfort me; I feel in control of them for the first time. Did I mention it changed?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s reversed. The sapphire sky glows spotless and the water… Yeah, the blood turned to a water that sweeps around the rocks, rippling where the peaceful waterfall meets the pond. It’s clear enough for me to see my body perfectly through it. Through the tree branches above me rays of light shine on my face, without burning it. The leaves growing on them are beating against my back, unsettled by a breeze. Soft moss covers the ground behind me, climbing on the hot and corroded rocks in patches. They are linked to the trees and water by swirling green vines that constantly grow. Even the smell is fresh, though unfamiliar…”

That only lasted for a moment, before the waters darken and the skies bleed over me. I hear a voice… Was that my own voice? It whispered words I do not know, and it does that again. This voice is chilling me to the point of awakening to my heart beating in the silent pauses of the cracking fire. Cold beads of sweat run down my skin. I run my fingers through my hair from brow down to the back of my neck.

 “Screw this,” I cry reaching for the cup on the table, still steaming.

Damien shakes his head as if disapproving my words, despite him knowing not this feeling of mine.

“Sadly, your mind guided itself and I couldn’t gather any concrete information from it,” he says after a pause. “If I may venture an analytic guess at what you described similar to a dream, then there is a change you desperately struggle to achieve in your life, but fail to.”

I avoid answering to his remark and stand up; guiding my steps to find the way out. In the window next to the door I catch a glimpse of the blood I hallucinated, smudged across my face. I turn around and check every nerve under my skin for pain.

“No…” I whisper, trying to reassure myself and forget the paranoia, though my voice is shaky. “Nothing has harmed me.”

“I told you nothing could.”

I smile his way and then, ready to leave, I face the image of before. This time I see blood no more.

How the hell does this even make sense? Well, at least this world seems more welcoming than I remember. Or maybe I have adapted better to the night… the city and the people.

The image of civilization is tempting me away to stand my ground on its broken cobble. Even here I see plenty of shadows, living all around me. They hold the essence of dreams: fear, doubt, insecurity, death, void... Every corner I take seems to lead me deeper into a labyrinth of narrower streets and taller walls. Why do I keep throwing gazes over my shoulder if no one else is around? I got lost, without escape, until I stand up from the couch. Have I blacked out or have I dreamt?