The Eyes

May 1, 2017

Six is too many seizures for one week. All you see from the outside is my cold body lying on the floor convulsing, but that isn’t what I see. Inside my head, I go to a hell like place. I get stuck in a hallway, and a door stands tall at the end, belittling me. Under the door are burnt, ash ridden hands peeking out and scratching the floorboards, making screeches as each finger splinters the wood fibers. Smoke seeps out and red and orange flower around the bony hands. Everytime I see the image it feels too real. As I’m running to the door ready to open the slab of wood for the guest, the hands disappear and two red eyes take the place of them. The door creaks open, and a figure jaunts out. This is the time I always wake up. Every time I have a seizure, I wake up at the exact same time. I feel it’s just a dream, but what comes afterwards is what freaks me out the most.

Scratches, gashes, bruises covering my back, thighs, arms and anywhere else you could imagine. I don’t know where they’re coming from. I ask my mom, who’s always with me during these times, if I’m doing this while I’m out. She always tells me that I don’t even fidget once I’m in the position.

It all started a couple years ago when my dad passed from a brain tumor. After the night he succumbed, I had a recurring dream. It took place in the same hallway, only the feel in the room was completely different. The walls were painted baby pink, and the door at the end was wide open. Soft jazz music hummed from the room.  I always woke up before I walked in, so I never found out what was inside there. A couple months after having this, the seizures came along.

I think someone is haunting me. I can’t get away from this “dream”. I don’t know if it is a sign, and it means something, or it’s someone just messing with me. Dying seems better to me at this point, but I know I can’t give up on my mom. I am the only child, and my dad is gone.

Now I try my hardest to just think it’s my mind playing games with me even though I know that isn’t the case. I haven’t told anyone about this dream...I mean what is there to say about it? What could anyone do about it? There isn’t a cure for nightmares, right? 

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