Dreams. Short Story.

My week is going fine so far, fairly boring! Finished watching season 1 of Game of Thrones, it is pretty damn awesome I must say! I was surprised that the ending wasn’t more…cliff hanger-y, it was pretty straight forward. No OH MY GOD! THEY’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! moments that HBO TV shows seem so fond of. In one way it’s good, in another, it was slightly disappointing. Still, it ended with great promise for the next season!

Beyond that, I haven’t been up to much at all. I went for blood tests yesterday, which went Ok, fairly painless, the nurse (Phlebotomist?) that did it is pretty damn good. Not sore at all! Don’t even have that much of a bruise so yay! Last time I had blood drawn I had a bruise all down my forearm. That looked pretty damn attractive. I not only looked like a junkie, I looked like an incompetent junkie. Which for some reason makes it so much worse.

Also, if you haven’t seen the google home page yet today, go check it out! It’s really fun! Also, you can use the buttons on your keyboard to make it work! Though I had to turn off instant results. Which piss me off anyway so two birds with one stone!

On with the show!

——————————————————————————————–

Dreams.

 

“Do you not think I know how you dreams feel by now?” The world began to dissolve, random strands and threads of reality breaking through, destroying the dream space. He stood over the two children, glaring at them. “This really won’t do. Not at all. Do you want to be replaced? Is that it hmm? Sent away for ever and ever?” The little girl shook her head slightly, he looked at the boy. “Well?” “No.” “Good. Then stop this nonsense.” he glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s too late to start again today. I suppose we’re done. You can go now.” They stood up and, hand in hand, the children left the room, the door closing softly behind them. The man sighed. “Little bastards.” he scribbled a few notes on his clipboard. They were behind today, no matter, they’d make it up eventually. He put his pen back into his pocket, then left the room. He hated walking through the gauntlet. All those animals, staring at him. Apparently it was to cut costs, but either way he hated it. The smell, the noises. It was horrible. At least he didn’t have to deal with the animals though. Not his job to look after them. The kids were back in their room, he knew that without bothering to check. They didn’t disobey. It’s not like they could run anywhere either. The place was locked down tight. He stopped at one of the doorways, then swiped his card.

“How did it go today?” “Not too bad. They screwed it up towards the end. We’ll fix it.” “Good. Anything else?” “No. Everything was normal.” “Thank you.” he left the room, relieved. He always felt relieved when he escaped her office unscathed. She never really punished, not that often, yet the fear still remained, you only needed to see her do it once.

They sat in their room, waiting. It was always the same. Someone would come along eventually with their dinner, they had access to books and television, but they were bored of it. It was too little and too much. There was endless things to keep them entertained, but they wanted to go outside again. Play in the playground. It was a rare treat, but it was worth the wait. The exhilaration from the swings, the exquisite dizziness from the merry-go-round, The smell of the grass and flowers. Though they had just slept for six hours, they were tired. The sleep in the tests was never refreshing, it was always draining. They would have to attend therapy tomorrow, talk about their dreams and what happened, why certain choices weren’t made. That wasn’t too bad. The therapist was nice. She had chocolate and handed it out freely.

They had tried to test him today, but they failed. Tried to bring him into the dreams. If they could do that well enough, he’d never know, they could try get out while he was still confused. They didn’t know what they would do once they got out, but they’d figure it out. They didn’t know much about the outside world, not really. They saw it in glimpses and distorted parodies displayed on TV. But it was better than where they were. They were told that dreams were amazing, that inside them, they could do anything, be anyone. But they were never allowed. They were stopped, giving tasks and goals. Their dreams controlled and directed. They were weak now, but they would get stronger. They had managed to pull him in today, almost fully too. He noticed this time, but maybe he wouldn’t the next. Either way, they would get out and when they were strong enough to escape, they’d be able to do anything.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 24 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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