It was a dark and stormy nightmare.
The crescendo of thunder boomed in my ears, followed by the slight rumble of diminutive thunder.
I found myself in a lifeless snowy world, and as it rained the snow came to follow—creating the perfect elixir for slushy sleet beneath my feet.
It was as if I stepped into a beautiful still-life painting, one Picasso might’ve considered mirroring if he was still alive.
And, like an idiot I was, I stood breathlessly glowering at the peak of the horizon. Waiting, almost. But for what?
“Strange,” I muttered to myself. “This is just all too…creepy.” Even for a nightmare. I must remind myself that I’m dreaming. This isn’t reality. I am not in real life. I am in my own little world. Aren’t I? Yet, here I was; standing in several feet of slush, somehow feeling everything in this dream.
It is just all too surreal, I thought bitterly to myself.
Perhaps, on some level, I was dreaming this nightmarish, dark world. There seemed to be nothing wrong with it. There were no paranormal occurrences, nothing “supernatural” about it either.
So why was I afraid? All I had to do to end this madness was pinch myself, and hopefully I’d flutter back into reality, comforted by the warmth of my blankets. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.
“Silly, little Gavin.”
The rush of feet shuffling of detritus roused my senses.
“Gavin, baby, don’t be afraid of me.”
I took into a sharp breath, blinking in surprise that whatever this thing was knew my name. Was that even possible? Then again, I am dreaming. Anything is possible.
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