text: Swirling motes of dim light circled me on an otherwise dark night. In front of me, I could see a pale door that wasn’t attached to anything. The doorknob had a thick substance dripping off of it. Is this oil? Thinking I should leave, I looked around hoping to spy a safe exit towards familiarity. To my left, I noticed a car was hovering above a clearing and slowly rotating. When the headlights turned my direction, they looked like large, glowing eyes. To my right, I saw a triangular window with shadows moving behind it. I didn’t want to know what it’d look like when illuminated. The hair on the back of my neck stood in response to the warped setting. I resolved to run as fast as my middle-aged body could carry me in desperate search of safety. Certain I was lost in a world of madness, I abandoned hope of finding familiarity. When I tried to turn my body, I couldn’t move. Panicked, I looked at my legs. They were being wrapped, and pulled on by the light motes. I couldn’t escape. My only remaining option was to open the pale door I was frightfully avoiding. I reached apprehensively towards the still-dripping doorknob, hoping that whichever entity lie beyond would either show me mercy, or end me quickly. The light motes softly illuminated the knob as I drew closer, revealing the identity of the mystery liquid. Blood. While my best effort to forget it failed, I closed the gap. The blood began to flow faster, dripping down my arm, and seeping into my skin -- a horrifying transfusion. Resisting the urge to black out, I opened the door with as much force as I could muster. The dim lights, still wrapped around my legs, threw me through the threshold. Stabilizing myself, I noticed separate streams of blood unnaturally slithering towards me on a white tile floor, still searching for my skin. Every time a stream of blood entered my body, a new memory pulsed through my vision -- memories of different people being thrown in this room. They were always gagged and blindfolded. Sometimes they squirmed futilely in body bags. In every memory, the person would be bound to a metal chair before they were horrifically tortured, and then my vision would go black. In between memories, the white tile floor would reappear as if to show it wasn’t over. There were still streams of blood to be absorbed. When I thought the barrage of horrors was finally over, my vision went dark, and all I could see was a morbid, uneven, grid of everyone’s faces. Bloated. Decayed. Their faces were locked into permanent silent screams. My body began to quake, and all I could do was scream for us all. “Marty! Honey, wake up!” My wife, Eve, was shaking me awake, and my screams began to quiet. While I attempted to catch my breath, my eyes darted around still looking for dead bodies and blood. After regaining my composure, I pulled her soft frame into my arms. I just knew she saved me from dying in my sleep. “Are you okay?” Eve gently pushed herself out of my arms and began fumbling for the lamp switch. “You feel really-- Oh! What happened to you? We need to call an ambulance!” “Hold on. Don’t call an ambulance. We don’t have the money, and I feel fine, just sweaty.” I stood up and found my way to the bathroom while my wife followed me. When I turned on the light switch, I heard Eve gasp as she looked at me in better lighting. Growing concerned, I turned towards the mirror and started screaming all over again. Much to my horror, my wife rushed out of the room. I was frozen in fear. Alone. Everything went dark. *** I heard my wife’s voice. I slowly opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of her backside as she darted out of the room -- not a bad image to wake up to. My light musing was quickly interrupted by something squeezing the life out of my arm. I turned to see a blood pressure cuff and other machines attached to me. The fog of sleep now effectively chased from my head, I began to analyze the situation. I looked down towards my hands and noticed they were lightly bandaged. So was most of my body. I struggled to recall what could’ve caused this. Was I still having the nightmare? Knock-Knock. “Hello, Mr. Walker. I’m Dr. Avery.” The doctor walked in, shortly followed by Eve. “Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” He asked, while he sat on a stool next to my hospital bed. “Three.” I replied, as my wife sat in a chair opposite Dr. Avery. “Good.” He pulled something out of his coat pocket. “I’m going to ask you to follow the tip of this stick with your eyes. Do you think you can do that for me?” “Sure...” I followed along, wondering if this was a sobriety test. “Good. No problems there, just one more thing.” Dr. Avery clicked a button on the side of the stick and moved the resulting bright light across my vision. “Okay, pupils are functioning properly. Do you know why you are here today?” “Not really, but I’d sure appreciate being filled in before anything further.” I was becoming irritated. “Is it okay if I tell him this part instead, with you just jumping in for the medical bits?” Eve asked. Dr. Avery sighed, and looked at his watch. “I suppose. Just try to keep it timely, since there are other patients waiting.” Eve nodded and gently clasped one of my bandaged hands into hers. “You were having a nightmare, so I woke you up. When you hugged me, I knew something was really wrong. You felt . . . sticky. I know you said not to call the ambulance, but when you saw yourself in the mirror, you screamed. I didn’t know if you were in pain or in shock, so I ran to find my phone and call anyway. By the time I got back to you, you’d passed out and hit your head on the way down.” My brows furrowed. “Ah.” In the bathroom, the blood on my skin reminded me of the streams of blood, infused with everyone’s memories. I thought I was still trapped in the nightmare. Was it possible the blood I absorbed in the dream was trying to leave my body in real life? No. This is insanity. Before I could continue to entertain such delusions, I quickly turned to the doctor for answers. “I think you’re up for the medical part.” “While extremely rare, my professional opinion is that you have a severe case of Hematidrosis. Basically, it means that the capillaries that supply oxygen to your sweat glands ruptured, and you began to sweat blood. This only happens during extreme stress.” Dr. Avery made a show of looking at his watch again, and his speech became more rapid. “Long story short, the amount of blood you were sweating was highly unusual for it to be from Hematidrosis. So, before I call it an official diagnosis, I still have some tests to run. You are currently stable, but your skin will still feel tender. I’ll send a nurse to fill you in on the details of your treatment since you arrived, and you can head home after.” He quickly shot up from the stool and left before I could process everything and thank him. I sighed pure relief, realizing I was holding my breath. It wasn’t an official diagnosis, but there was at least, a rational explanation. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face my wife. “Thank you for calling the ambulance. I know I said not to, but I’m happy you didn’t listen.” I gave her a pensive smile. “The day I listen to everything you say is the day I give up my porcelain doll collection.” Eve smirked, knowing how I felt about those creepy things. “I swear their eyes follow me everywhere. If I didn’t love you, those things would’ve found the heavy end of a mallet by now.” I laughed a little, finding comfort in a fleeting feeling of normalcy with my wife. *** “They let me ride in the ambulance because I was in no condition to drive. We’ll need to call a taxi.” Eve started digging in her purse. The night air was refreshing. “It’s two in the morning. There are no taxi companies open right now, and our friends are sleeping. Let’s just walk home. It’s only five blocks. We should be fine . . . Don’t look at me like that; you’re wearing sensible shoes, the neighborhood is low crime, and if something else happens just call the ambulance again.” I rolled my eyes and threw my hands up not knowing what else to say. “Okay, fine. I guess I can look at it as a mini date with my husband.” Eve took my arm and snuggled close. I felt like we were young again as we walked down the road towards our home, playfully teasing each other and reflecting on the hopes and dreams we used to talk about as teenagers. I was still experiencing a bit of pain. I wasn’t going to ruin the mood though because Dr. Avery said my skin would still be tender for a while. We turned down Wharf Road and noticed a car show set up behind the fence of a shut-down dealership. “Must be an event for later today.” I watched my wife nod as she walked over to the gate to peer closer. The pain all over my body became a bit worse, and I squeezed my eyes tight, mentally bracing myself while Eve was distracted. When I opened my eyes, the resulting spots in my vision didn’t disappear like they should’ve. The wave of pain dissipated, but to my extreme unease, I recognized the swirling motes of dim light from my nightmare lingering in my vision. I willed myself to remain calm, and act as if nothing were amiss. “Ready to go?” Eve asked. “Yes.” I was eager to continue home. However, when I began to walk closer to Eve I noticed all of the light motes drifting to the left of my vision. Against my better judgment, I allowed my eyes to follow them. My chest tightened. I must be losing what’s left of my mind. Through the gate, in the center of every attraction stood a car on a pedestal, slowly rotating. The specks of dim light began drifting to the sign above the car. It said, “Maintained by Motorized Maniacs on the corner of Cardinal and Flannery” “Helloooo?” My wife started gently shaking my arm. “Do you remember what ‘Yes.’ means?” She began to look impatient. The moment my attention was shifted to her, the dim lights vanished. “Sorry about that, the car in the center caught my eye.” On the way home, I proceeded to finally tell her the details of my dream, leaving out the recent hallucination, of course. *** The coast was clear. It was 3:30 a.m. and Eve was now sound asleep. I was afraid to fall asleep again, not that I’d admit it out loud. I knew my next course of action should be to put myself at ease. I’d prove to myself that everything was normal, so I could sleep in peace. I slowly inched out of bed and crept to the bathroom to finally look at myself in the mirror. Brown eyes? Check. Grey hair? Check. That one weird nose hair I’ve been meaning to cut for three weeks? Check. The absence of blood covering my body and the presence of two stitches I’ll have to lie about later to not feel like a pansy? Check and check. I was ready to go after leaving a quick note for Eve to call me in case she woke up -- better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. I threw on my black sweats and drove to the corner of Cardinal and Flannery. When I arrived, I tried to look natural. Even though I wasn’t planning on stealing or breaking and entering, it’d still look like I was up to no good this late at night. As I walked closer to the building, it looked like a harmless old mechanic shop. I knew this was a family business, only changing names when the next of kin inherited it. I decided to look in a window, just to put myself completely at ease. I walked towards the light post in the back and noticed it was in the middle of a small parking lot. Movement caught my eye. My stomach dropped. It was the large, triangular window straight out of my nightmare. Moving shadows included. Why did I think coming here would calm me down again? I steeled myself, and looked through the window. The motes of light were back. They were swarming violently in the old-fashioned maintenance pit, casting shadows on the window. I wasn’t sure if I was more terrified of the hallucination, or the possibility that it wasn’t one. It felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, and my chest started hurting. The more I thought about my expectations not matching my warped reality, the worse I felt. “Your light, persistent and warm, chases my darkness away!” Eve’s ringtone scared the living hell out of me, and I tripped, falling against the glass. Before I could steady myself, the decades old window frame snapped; the glass shattered, and gravity had no trouble pulling my beer belly down with it. The impact of the ground seemed to help snap me out of my cyclic thoughts. So much for not breaking and entering. The lights vanished. I slowly stood up, and shook off the bulk of the broken glass. My phone was completely broken. I decided I was already inside, so I may as well check out the maintenance pit. At least I’ll get decent sleep in prison after this if Eve doesn’t kill me first. I descended into the pit and wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Looking up at the ceiling, I questioned my life choices. My eyes were well adjusted now, and everything looked perfectly normal. What was I doing here? Things looked normal, aside from my light hallucinations. I came here to prove everything was fine. I should leave. I turned around to find the stairs again, and the lights returned; they rapidly circled my legs. I could not leave. I started hoping the hallucination was sentient. “I’ll keep looking if this craziness stops!” I screamed to the dark, and the lights stopped as quickly as they started. Okay. It isn’t just hallucinations. My chest tightened. With labored breathing, I began knocking on the sides as I walked toward the other end, listening for differences in sound. There was a large, towel hanging at the end. I took it down, and saw the pale door from my nightmare. This can’t be reality. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. I knew I had to open the door. I started praying to God, that a silent alarm was tripped and that the police would show up before I was murdered. I grabbed the slick doorknob, trying to ignore my hammering heart. I crept inside and began feeling around for a light switch. Nothing. I left the door open, so that I could at least see the exit. As I felt my way forward, I lightly kicked some heavy paper bags; it was probably just cat litter. Smack! “Don’t hurt me!” I fell backward after someone or something hit my stitches. I froze in terror and braced for another hit. Nothing happened. I listened for footsteps or breathing. Nothing was there. I carefully stood and reached up, into the darkness. I’m such a moron. I was feeling in front of me, and forgot to feel above me. The ceiling became low here. I slid my foot to feel for the next step, and found a hole in the floor. I crouched low to examine it with my hands and felt a wooden ladder leading further down. I took a deep breath and followed the path. Reaching the bottom, I realized there was no guarantee I could find the ladder again if something went horribly wrong. My shoes squeaked when I turned around. I touched the floor and it felt like smooth tile. My heart started hammering, remembering my nightmare. I took a few steps forward, and noticed a slight depression. Upon examination, it felt like a drain grate. When I stood up, something lightweight tapped me on the side of the head. I felt for it, pulled, and squinted from the sudden bright light. I was standing on the same white tile. It looked like there was dried blood all over the place. In one direction was the same metal chair I saw people tied to before they were tortured and possibly murdered. Further back, I saw bags full of eyeless, decayed heads. The same ones from the end of my bloody dream. All locked in silent screams. *** “Hey, Marty, I heard those Murder Maniacs got what was coming to them,” my new neighbor said, “multiple life sentences is too good for them.” “I’m just happy they were caught, and the families of the victims received closure. Even if it means I’m stuck here for a few months for breaking and entering.” “Ain’t that the truth.” I sat up, and looked through the bars just in time to see the floating light motes again. They took the forms of the victims, only they were healthy looking. Some waved, some bowed, some blew me kisses. They couldn’t speak, but I understood. They floated into the ceiling, and I never had a nightmare or complained about Eve’s dolls ever again.