A Peaceful and Chaotic Dream

(just recently woke from this one on my couch. Thought I’d type it as fast as possible.)

A stone frame stood there in the mists of a pine-filled smelling forest. Scents of roses, cut grass, moist soil and clear air filled around the bright shadows that were cast down from what trees laid amongst in a thick and heavy naturally-grown state of forest vegetation. It felt as though there was a history in this forest and it felt so alive and active. The stone frame felt out of place, though, and within the frame had been a single knob door with the small panel of a name-plate listed on it. The name plate read: “Peace”

The door wasn’t too large or dramatic; as normal doors go, this one looked especially clean and somewhat identical to a movie that was thought of. Red in color with indications of grooves that made the door look as though it belonged to a rich home of some kind. No double-lock dead bolt was found, just a single knob that glimmered when the sun shined off it. A firm grasp and a deep breath made my lungs feel as though I was breathing out ice. It’s a simple tell-tale body function that I go through: when ever I feel extraordinary levels of excitement, or passion, or fear, or adrenaline, it always happens.

The door swung open, what appeared to be a grassy knoll appeared, some trees surrounding the edges, with a spectacular view of the sky and a mountain range. The mountains were littered with the majestic near neon green grass and the darker green thick trees, and a river split the hillside I was on from the gorgeous mountain range that stood on the other side. I paused, hesitant to enter, but something pulled me by the neck. Ever have that feeling of someone running their hands through your hair? That feeling you get when their fingers reach beyond your ears, their palm pressing against near your crown of your head? That tingle you can sometimes feel, even if you do it to yourself, of peace and safety? That was the feeling that pulled me in.

A single step through and the winds blew softly. So warm to bask in the sunlight, but it was the voices and people who I had heard when I opened my eyes that made me feel so warm. People from around my community sitting around on blankets or tossing Frisbee and reading books. I could name the names, oh how I could. Evelyn and Nic were crashed in the sun with their smiles, Hillevi had been there too, but for some reason she had been doing Hatha Yoga with Joe. Roger was resting and reading a book with Sally and Kara coloring. It was so vivid and heart warming to see my friends there. Bodacious and Becky were there, laughing with Trevor and Clara as they all tossed foods at each other, and as I think harder back, I recall them being either chocolate covered something-or-others. Tim and Sarah were hunkered in the sun, crashed next to each other with Devan holding a beer with a smile and offering a place for me to crash, and Kim who I’d not seen since - as I recall now - that Steve Means shin-dig, had been offering me to crash at the same place as Devan was mentioning. Then there had been a few others off in the distance, slightly further down the hill - James had been tossing Hannah a baseball, it seemed, and Ashley and Amanda were sitting in the grass with Bethany as they smiled and waved…

Why were these people here? Why such a nice dream? As I held onto the doorknob I turned to realize the door that said “Peace” on the name plate was true: I was feeling peaceful, I had a smile on my face and I noticed the people who I felt safe around - who I felt accepted around. People who didn’t see me as a bag of emotions, or a wet blanket, or even dramatic. Just a guy who’s complicated and weird: the best type. I swallowed in peace and took it all in. The view. The people. The chilly warmth of the wind and sun. And yet, curiosity caught me in a twist once I looked at the name plate a second time. It no longer said “Peace” on the door, but was in fact completely blank… Why?

I curiously stepped back and crunched against the pine nettles that were from the forest where it call began, clicking the door shut. I leaned my head against it, a deep breath that filled those icy lungs. It felt so welcoming to have been in peace, and yet my sanity was becoming questionable as I heard a voice speak to me. Soft and amiable, female and sweet-toned, a slight Russian accent of some kind, suggesting, “Go on. Do it.” I grinned and grasped the doorknob, stepping back and closing my eyes. The name plate had changed from blank to, “Chaos.” Already, I felt my nerves tense up, my skin begin to crawl, my muscles begin to twinge. But that voice, that curiosity, caught me up one more. The knob turned and the door opened with a single step through it.

I gasped, the bright flashing images of horror, disarray, and black slime appearing before me in a dark room. The single light source had flickered on and off like a short-circuiting lamp of some kind, and the walls were black enough to make my heart skip a beat. Then, a single whisper echoed out. Something from a soft voice, similar to the Russian one but with a different accent. Hard to pin it down now; if I wrote it out at the beginning of this I would probably be more accurate. It was what I seen: the smears of black slime, the soaked hair and bangs, those eyes that pierced into my very soul. Each cell in my body demanded I run, but my hand wouldn’t let go, as all I had heard kept me frozen in place.

Once I heard the words, my hand slipped off the knob of the door as I noticed the flickering of the light bring to focus the face of the woman who whispered it. My tried stepping back, only to find my body crashing against the soft soil; the darkness, the blackness beginning to creep from the door frame as if infecting the neutral ground I had started on. My hand gave proof that the black slime was, in deed, black and thick, but when brought out of the shadows and into the sunlight, it appeared quite red. Red as blood.

I gasped and woke up - my leg hanging from my couch on one end, right leg hung over the top of the couch, my couch pillow dug between the cushion, arm, and my shoulders. I has gasped for the air for a moment, coughing and sliding a hand along my chest, through my hair and back to my face, rubbing my eyes with my knuckles to try to snap out of the grogginess I was feeling. I took a deep breath and glared at my new ceiling, noticing and appreciating the silence. Appreciating it for so long that I began to hate it. My lips parted and I uttered the word that the woman in my dream had spoke to me before coming toward me from the door.