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Bring Me a Dream

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      The night is dark, stars reach higher than any soul could on Earth. The moon hangs above and watches over all of its sleepy creatures below it. Serene silence envelops the world and the house is no exception. The sweet laughter that filled it during the day disappeared into soft snoring and hardly audible fans; they kept the house cool from the hot Californian sun in the morning and afternoon. The sun seemed so energetic, always ready to brighten the day- both metaphorically and literally. But now, now it is the moon's turn and he decides to keep the lights low with only the stars, that freckle the sky so perfectly, aiding him. Other than that, the darkness blankets the sky accompanied by a cloud or two that'd dim the lights even further.

     And even so, Mark’s curtains currently block out the sight to make his room even darker. His golden dog lays at his feet as he sleeps; breathing steady and light as the night pulls him further into the realm of dreaming. It is a little bit past midnight, he had spent his time editing videos until deciding it was enough and he would finish the rest tomorrow. Nonetheless, he had to keep in mind that the very next morning he would have to exercise early- Mark was determined to stick to his routine and would always make sure he had a decent night of sleep so the morning wouldn’t be so bad. In this moment, he’s doing just that- getting a good night sleep.

     Albeit, it wouldn’t last long.

     A few hours later, Mark could hear the wind howling and banging outside his house. A groan escapes his lungs as he sits up in bed, his tired eyes looking around his room. He sees that Chica must have left at some point during the night, he figures that she merely wanted water or something of the sort. Nothing big.

     Is it raining too? What the Hell? The forecast said nothing about rain, Mark would remember if they said anything about it, he would have to adjust his jogging route otherwise. Now that he thinks about it, he couldn’t even remember anything about high winds either. Odd. Then, he hears what sounds like a few knocks on the walls around his room. Including one on the wall along the side of his house, where no one- unless of course they really wanted to and brought a ladder- would be able to knock on. This overwhelming sense of dread overcame him, a sinking feeling in the pit of stomach set in- it’s growing heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Mark isn’t exactly sure what is going on, nor does he understand why he feels so afraid; which possibly only adds onto his fear. The knocking seems to grow louder, harsher even, around him and not only could he feel how hard his heart is beating, but he can hear it too.

     God, it is so loud! He is tempted to just get up and go splash some water in his face or do something, anything to get rid of this feeling. This sinking feeling that nothing good is about to happen- no, the feeling that only pain and torment were in store. He doesn’t like it one bit, yet, he can’t bring his legs to move from his bed. Mark knows it sounds crazy but he feels as though if he were to step on the floor, it would somehow bring him pain. He isn’t sure how; he just knows it will.

     His senses are getting overwhelmed; eyes darting from one part of the room to the next repeatedly- he can’t shake this odd sense of being watched. Mark feels eyes on him as he lies helplessly in his bed- too scared to move a muscle. He’s paralyzed. The only sense spared is scent and taste, and he isn’t all that interested in seeing how they may be involved. He tries to shut his eyes, hoping that if he pretends this isn’t happening, it will all disappear. That everything he is feeling, everything he is experiencing, everything that is going on around him, it will all somehow go away and leave him to fall asleep in peace. That this personal Hell can end and let him rest once more.

     Only when he opens his eyes, he realizes that nothing has changed.

     That simply adds onto the overbearing sense of despair and fright in his heart and mind.

     His chest rises and falls with each breath; one after the another, they gradually become faster. His panicked eyes still searching the room as paranoia fills his brain; there’s someone here. There has  to be! Why else would he feel like he’s being watched?

     The storm continues to pour outside as Mark’s eyes finally spot something, someone, in the darkness. Everything that once filled his senses and clouded his mind disappeared- all of his focus is now with the figure on the left side of his room. Their eyes meet and the stare lingers if only for a few seconds before the figure vanishes into the unknown and Mark suddenly gains a stinging pain over every inch of his body. It feels like a wave, beginning at his feet and rising up to his head to fill his whole body with this unimaginable sensation, one that no one should ever have to endure. Like the lightening bolts that rage on outside, the pain burns and stings, never faltering- if anything, it gets worse and worse with each passing second. It’s horrendous.

     He screams as his body contorts in all sorts of ways to try and cope with the terrible sensation. Curling into himself and then spreading out, spasms of the muscles in reaction to whatever it is that he is feeling. Mark’s heart feels like it could jump out of his chest at any moment, his bones act as though they desperately try to escape his body, all while his throat grows dry and sore from yelling. Eyes shut tightly as his head throws itself into the pillow- back arched- pained groans escape his lungs due to the torturous feelings engulfing his whole being. In one last fight against the sensation, he makes a quick move.


     He lurches forward in his bed, sweaty and out of breath. He woke up. Mark’s brown hues wide with panic and confusion, they search the room around him and find no evidence of the figure’s existence. The pain’s disappearance is similar, not a trace nor a last twinge of it in his body, he feels fine. Tired, but fine. Instead, Mark notices a sleeping Chica at the foot of his bed- undisturbed and relaxed as ever.  Brows knit together as a hand runs through the messy black strands, was that another nightmare? While the YouTuber is familiar with the haunted dreams, he hasn’t had one of that sort in, well, he actually can’t remember having a nightmare like that. Maybe in his childhood? He’s not sure. Either way, it was so vivid, he feels like it was all real. But that couldn’t be, could it? No, it was just a really weird, lucid, and fucked up nightmare. That’s all.

     Giving the golden dog a quick pet, Mark gets out of bed and goes to his bathroom counter. The bright lights sting his eyes so he blinks a few times to help adjust to them, he takes in his reflection and chuckles. Yeah, he looks like a mess. A crooked smirk crosses his expression as he turns the water on- making sure the dial is on cold- he cups his hands below the faucet and once satisfied with the amount, proceeds to splash the cool water over his face to help bring him back into reality. Mark does this one more time- just to make sure it’s really working after all. Why splash water on your face if it doesn’t wake you up, right? If it didn’t work, then it was just a waste of time and now you're not only tired, but cold too. So, it’s always better to be thorough with these things.

     Nonetheless, it does work and Mark, out of pure curiosity, looks over his hands in case the pain he experienced in the dream possibly had a real life source. He doesn’t see anything, even after stretching his fingers and what not, there is simply not an answer for it- or at least in real life there isn’t. In one’s dreaming world, who knows how many answers there are.

     He shrugs and tries to rub the remaining sleep out of his eyes as he turns off the lights and heads back to his bed. Sadly, he finds that he’s too awake by now to try and fall back asleep. He looks over to his clock and reads the red numbers: 4:12am. Damn, he really is up early. Groaning, Mark’s eyes shift to the window.

     The sky is still painted a dark blue with the little white and yellow stars, the pale full moon shines brightly. Mark really does love space; being reminded of how beautiful it all is, it sends a soft smile to his lips despite everything else. Even if the random rain continues to come down, it’s a far lighter storm than depicted in his dream and he has an odd but hopeful feeling that soon there will be clearing skies as the sun rise. Albeit, it may take another hour or two- yet, it’s all worth it, isn’t it? To see the beauty of the Earth unravel, as night turns to day, the dim sky changing into a splendid display of oranges, pinks, and blues? The clouds reflecting and reveling in the color change as well, he finds it refreshing. With each new day, a new sun rise and a new sun set, shaking away the existence of yesterday as the Earth rotates in this ginormous universe of ours. It reminds him that there really isn’t any point in focusing on the past or the negatives, rather, living for now and for the happiness one deserves. The idea of looking up instead of down has helped in more than one situation; the latest still fresh in heart and mind.

     Mark hears an adorable little snore behind him, he laughs lightly and turns around to offer Chica an early morning belly rub. She happily welcomes it and even rolls over further, he couldn’t help the laughs escaping him by that point. She’s too cute!

     His eyes go back and forth between the bed and the door, again- trying to decide if he should at least try to go back to sleep or accept the situation and just make some breakfast already. The rain outside tempts him to do the first, even if it may take a while.

     Although, a bang reaches his ears and he looks out towards the window. Was that thunder? Mark doesn’t think so and is only assured of that when the noise echoes out in his house again. His eyes narrow and with a peculiar feeling of paranoia sneaking into his mind; he looks for a quick thing to defend himself with, he settles for a heavy book that was on his nightstand. Mark’s long legs carry him, albeit cautiously, out of his room and down the stairs into the hallway. The floorboards creak ever so slightly beneath him and fuel his paranoia. Logically, yes, he knows it’s probably nothing and it may simply be his mind playing tricks with him in the night. But right now, the lack of sleep has made him a bit more susceptible to his cruel imagination. Mark waits for a moment, the silence making it easy to listen for another bang. And sooner than expected, another one came. Though this time, he realizes it to be a knock, which adds to his confusion.

     Who’s at his house at 4am in the morning?

     With furrowed brows, Mark makes his way over to the front door. He debates with himself on whether or not he should really answer it or leave it alone. For all he knows, it could be a murderer just waiting for some dummy stupid enough to open their door to a stranger at 4am. The thought hits him once he’s about a foot away from the door, his lips purse and he begins to ponder the outcomes. It took him a moment to decide and during that moment he heard two more knocks, his decision is to simply open the door a crack to see exactly who it is that’s out there. However, it then dawns on him that he does in fact have a peephole and that this situation is, quite frankly, the exact reason why peepholes are made.

     The darkness still surrounds the person outside, and as if will help, he squints in an attempt to make out their features better. From what he can tell, he thinks that they’re a girl. They’re about to raise their hand to knock on the door once more, even just by watching their actions, he can tell they’re hesitant. That’s good news, he thinks, most spontaneous murderers aren’t hesitant right? Mark chews on his bottom lip, his gaze leaves them and goes to the book in his hand, with a heavy sigh he decides to open the door.

     His free hand grabs the door knob and twist it slowly, he opens the door a few inches. It’s just enough to peek his head out, offer a smile, and try to get a good look at whoever is standing, soaked, on his front porch. “Can I help you, miss?” Mark also really hopes that his assumptions in the person being of the female gender is true, he doesn’t want to seem like an ass this early in the day already.

     Although, when he hears their response, the raven haired sweetheart finds himself frozen.