In Dreams: The Nightmare King

Setting the Stage

I stood at the edge of the asphalt road that ran all the way up "Cemetery Hill" as locals called it. It had an official name, but nobody ever used it, and there was no sign illuminating visiting guests of the name of the cemetery anywhere to be seen. Graves were marked out in uneven rows along a rather steep hill. I glared at the asphalt. To walk up the road you had to bend forward almost double. I have no idea how they ever brought a hearse up this hill, and frankly I'm surprised people didn't just tumble back down it as they walked. In the grounds themselves, it was hard to walk without "stepping on someone" as my step father would have said. Not that I was super-superstitious or anything, but it was still uncomfortable to walk all over someone's grave.

I huffed my way upwards. This hill would wind and Olympic athlete, I grumbled internally. I had to catch my breath at the top before stepping out onto the grass. It was, of course, soaked. Even being on such a steep incline, the cemetery ground stubbornly clung to the night's rain, refusing to let it soak in or roll downward. I winced as the cold water immediately soaked through my shoes and socks.

Ahead of me, the funeral director was shouting orders at a handful of employees. I watched as they scurried back and forth with chairs and canopies designed to protect guests from the weather.

"Not there! I said over HERE!" I heard him screech at an employee.

"But, sir!" Said the red-faced employee, out of breath, "Then the guests will be facing down-hill, not towards the proceedings! And sir-the deceased..."

"I don't care! Just do it!" The director yelled and the employee scrambled off again, moving the 150-odd chairs into a new position on the grounds.

As I got a little closer, I noticed I was relatively late by comparison, half of the guests had already arrived. I also immediately understood the seating issue. Many of the folding metal chairs, never designed for use outdoors, especially on wet ground, were slowly sinking into the ground with their occupants. Employees scurried back and forth asking guests to please be seated in a different area, while moving the chairs and canopies to what they hoped was a firmer spot; and it wasn't only the chairs sinking. Women in impractical tall heels were clinging to male relatives, employees and friends as they tried to avoid sinking into the soupy earth. I began chuckling under my breath, until I realized what the chairs and people were sinking in to.

Graves. I shivered a little, and blessed my anxiety brain for making me live in fight or flight mode. Nothing but flat soled shoes for me! Suck it universe.

I followed the awkward procession, which did nothing to quell my unease. Especially when I realized they were setting up on just about the only level ground on the top of the hill.  Right on top of a long line of currently occupied graves. Great.

"And you too shall perish," Spoke a grim voice behind me. I startled, turning, but the person must have already moved away. I shivered again. The voice, the graves, my cold feet, ugh. The two sedatives I had taken that morning weren't going to be enough. Turning back towards the seating, a waving white handkerchief caught my eye. Brie was smiling widely, while energetically waving a white handkerchief above her head in one gloved hand, and clutching a lacy black folding fan in the other. As usual, she was dressed as eccentrically as I never dared to dress. She had on a long black Victorian style dress, with a black veil, matching gloves, a small black Victorian style hat sat on her short blond curls, and if I knew Brie, she was probably wearing a pair of tall Victorian style lace-up high-heeled boots under there too. I sighed imagining what was coming as soon as she reached the edge of the asphalt. I started squelching my way back towards her in my wet shoes, complaining to myself bitterly that I was only here because of her. She was still grinning madly at me, as she daintily used her fan hand to lift the edge of her skirts, stepped out onto the grass and...there it was... The look of panic as she realized she had just stepped into quicksand in disguise.

She squealed as her heels sank into the wet grass. Other guests turned and gave her stern looks as she noisily tried to free herself. She tried tugging her left heel from the ground, which meant she shifted her weight to her right foot, causing it to sink even further into the ground, which made her desperately tug her right leg upwards, while again her left began to sink lower than before. Brie slowly started to tilt backwards, windmilling her arms for balance, while somehow still trying to maintain her dignity.

I couldn't help it, I doubled over in laughter, which caused more guests to turn and openly glare with no small amount of hostility. Wheezing, I squished my way towards Brie's side, and helped her pull her heels free.

"Took you long enough," she said haughtily, stepping away from me with her nose in the air.

Annnd she got stuck again. I lost it at that point. I wasn't sure I could move I was laughing so hard. I tried to breathe so I could calm down enough to help her pull her leg free. She nearly lost her balance, tried to grab onto me before she could fall, stepped backwards with her free foot and immediately got stuck again. This time we both dissolved into giggles, the inappropriate kind where you really shouldn't be laughing, but suddenly everything just becomes so damn hilarious and anything will set you off. The guests shooting daggers at us with their eyes only made it worse. Rude comments started to follow, so I tried to sober up quickly. I helped Brie free her legs again and she clung to me for support, still breathless from her giggles.

"Look at those old hags glare." she whispered, sending her into another fit of laughter. I tried to shush her, but as one of the "old hags" sniped 'At a funeral no less!' at us, I dissolved into stifled giggles too.

Brie and I are really not awful people, I don't think. She's a tall willowy girl, very girly and pretty, dresses like I wish I had the guts to, she has a wicked sense of humor, and is basically a direct contrast to short little stubby, androgynous me, who has always been short and stout and had a little too much muscle to be pretty. Brie has been my best friend since well, before my world fell apart. Back when I was normal. Before the anxiety kicked in, and all the crazy things that came with it. Before the unconscious reflexes, ticks, medications...and the nightmares. Brie stuck with me through it all, clung to me even. She had seen too much not to believe me, though sometimes I wondered if I was just a fun scientific experiment to her.

Brie straightened back up, breathing quickly. She didn't seem to notice I had briefly gone vacant, bless her.

"Oh no!" She groaned, "Look what I've done to your dress! I've got mud all over it! OH MY GOD YOU'RE WEARING A DRESS!" She squealed to more angry glares from the attendees. I shushed her while shaking my head.

"First of all, it's a skirt, ok? And I only own three, this was the only black one." I shrugged and looked down at the black skirt with white flowers splashed all over it. "Second, the mud will come out in the wash." I shrugged again. Skirts and dresses were also not my thing anymore either. Anxiety brain makes me feel like I have to be prepared for the end of the world at any time. Dresses and skirts were impractical.

"Besides, I'm wearing leggings underneath, so if I have to, I can strip." I flashed her my leggings as I said it which sent us both into hushed giggles again. This time we received some rather nasty curse words hurled at us. Brie stuck out her tongue, then turned to me.

"Shall we go, m'lady?" Brie asked while extending her arm.

"We shall!" I said snootily, then looked towards Brie's shoes. "But, I think you should probably hold onto ME." I snickered