2019-07-05 - Nightmares Without Eyes

You taste blood. It wouldn’t be so bad, if you were sure it belonged to you. But here in the darkness, where things can as easily slice your flesh as easily at they stroke your cheek, who can tell? You’ve been here before. It was a long time ago, but some things you never forget. The sensation of dead things clawing at your body, while voices that claim to be angels whisper ‘you’re safe’.

No, you can’t forget this place. The taste of blood is stronger now, and while it’s somehow difficult to feel where the pain is coming from, you know now it’s yours. All of this is yours. Your legacy. Your home. Your nightmare.

You tried to run, and it laughed at you. Every time you went deep enough, every time the high hit hard enough… you came back to this place. No escaping. There’s some quote about facing your fears. Beating your demons. What do you do when the demons are you?

Just hold still, it will be over soon. You’ll wake up, and there’s be a bed and a cheap alarm clock and a job and other people. It’s a life. Another person’s life. Maybe she’s the dream. You’ve been here too long. That metallic taste is still there, but it’s been too long since you tasted anything else to know what it is.

The hands claw at you, pulling and tearing at your make-believe skin. It comes away like crepe paper, leaving every nerve raw and exposed. That’s usually where it stops. That’s usually when the hands stop digging, or the alarm from the other person’s world makes this one stop.

But you can feel the fingers exploring your neck, and chin, and cheeks. They don’t seem to care. It’s only when they get to where your eyes should be, if you had eyes, that they start to press inward. The pressure seems to bore them after a while, and the nails begin to pick. Pick, pick, pick. What difference does it make, if you did have eyes, in the blackness?

There’s a little girl crying. She’s always crying, somewhere. Even in the world with the alarm clock and the people with faces and names, you hear her crying. When you had eyes, you saw her. You’d pretend you didn’t, because you know she’s not there. But when you had eyes, you saw her. And when you saw her, she never had eyes. But she's crying. Maybe they'll take your ears next. Then the crying would stop.