Title: “Dreamcatcher” (working title)
Last Updated: 09.18.17
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It was dark. Darkness engulfed Christopher from every direction and everything became eerily more silent. He could not fathom it could get any more silent than what had been the case just moments ago. He had only heard the unanswered echoes of his voice calling out to his Grandpa Charlie. As if his senses were ripped from him, he felt more alone than he thought he was. In hopes to regain his bearings, Christopher reached out in front of himself and felt nothing. He knew he had just been sitting on the hard, cold platform under him, but now, he felt nothing. No smooth stones. No indentation surrounded by smaller stones. Nothing. He reached down to touch his shoes, and with this effort, his breath caught in his throat as he made his next discovery. There was nothing under his feet. Christopher was floating, in darkness, with an increased sense of silence. He was truly alone.
“You were destined for greatness. Never forget, even after I’m gone, kiddo.”
Christopher knew he was not hearing things and opened his eyes to find himself laying in his bed, as he had been before heading down to breakfast. In an instant, he realized he was definitely dreaming, and in looking at his alarm clock, he saw that he had been asleep for what turned out to be minutes. His time in the unknown location had felt like hours. What was going on? Why had he heard his grandfather’s words again? Why did this feel so different compared to his regular dreams?
Confused, Christopher slowly rose in bed, leaning back against the wall behind him. It took Christopher a moment to realize that he had been sweating. His brow was slick with sweat, and had no idea why. He looked down and saw that he was barefoot. Had he been wearing any slippers or shoes this morning down to breakfast? Baffled at what was going on, Christopher began to rise out of bed before it hit him like a train. His skull was throbbing and the world began to spin. His eyes tearing, his headache intensified. He managed to get up out of bed and maintain his balance, and in walking toward his bathroom, he turned on the faucet. Cool water rushed over his palms, and he quickly splashed relief over his eyelids. His headache began to dull, but the ache was persistent. Finally taking the remainder of the edge of his headache away, he turned of the water and reached for his towel before looking up at himself in the mirror.
Christopher dropped his towel in confusion. In the dull ache of his skull, his hazy vision focused on two things: the bloodshot redness of his eyes and a streak of red in his hair.