Conrad Julius Ecklie (conrad_ecklie) wrote,
Conrad Julius Ecklie

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Theatrical Muse: Week 192: Question 192

Name: Conrad Ecklie

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Word Count: 760

Write about a recurring dream you've had. (Or, if you've never had one, write about the most vivid dream you can remember.)

He often dreams of their deaths, and his nightmares warp his mind, warp all the images he knows of, or has imagined. In his nightmares, his unconscious mind, let free, shows him all the thing, all the situations imagined and emotions left behind, that he squashed down after each tragic happening, and never let see the light of day. Because he is hard and mechanical, his terrors and the way his insides really look, can only seen by him in nightmares more horrible than any of the deaths he has ever worked on.

He imagines him in the place of his father, on the couch, or his mother, at the table, and he hears the intruder come in, hears the screams and feels the bloodshed as he dies, at the table, at the couch. And suddenly, it’s not a darkened, blurred, nameless face that taunts him, killing his parents, killing him, it is actually him, killing his parents, himself, and it scares him and tears him apart, from the inside out. Other times, he is Michelle, or, is lurking, in the mind of Michelle, and he goes to sleep on their bed, thinking of what they might do on the weekend, or for the rest of their lives. There’s an inkling something might go wrong, but, she’s safe now, she has a husband, and her life is good. But, it isn’t, because, all of a sudden, there’s another dark, hidden, blurry face, and its body is violating her, raping her, stabbing her, stuffing the wounds so they just bleed into the bandages, and not onto the bed. Then he relives it all again, except, it’s him, it’s Michelle, staring up at himself as he rapes and kills the only woman to ever romantically love him. And it hurts like he’s being burned alive, and, it hurts, like it’s him being tormented, shot, or stabbed, or raped, violated, murdered, killed.

He wakes up when the nightmares release him, and although he hasn’t shifted much in his sleep, although the covers are not ruffled very much, his heart is pounding fast and his breath is sharp and ragged, pain popping under his ribs and behind his eyes, as if he’s been running fast. And he has been running fast, always running fast, because he’s trying to escape the past, the memories, all the awful pain and important, tragic, life altering, life changing events, that tore his own person apart, and into a million pieces.

He knows, he should get help, get counselling, take some sleeping pills every now and then, just so he can sleep, and not dream. But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to change, doesn’t want to admit that the nightmares haunt his head, long after he has gotten up in the morning, eaten breakfast, and gone to work. Work is the only time he can forget the nightmares, because work needs his full concentration. Work needs him, to be at the top of his game, and he would never, ever, give it any less than that, and that fully.

The nightmares come every night, and on the rare occasion they don’t, he still wakes up sad and alone, and peeks under the rug covering the couch, just to make sure it wasn’t all a nightmare, and that that horrible stain is still there. And even if he does have them, and it doesn’t hurt when he wakes up, he still gets up anyway, because he has to, just, continue. If he stopped, and thought about the nightmares in full, complete detail, all the time, then he would go mad. Even if he does, sometimes, think about them, it’s not like it’s for very long, or, hardly at all.

The nightmares will never leave him. They will not go away until he is dead and buried in the ground. They will haunt his dreams always. The only times when he didn’t have them, really, at all, was before his parents’ death, before innocent blood was spilled, and he became an orphan. And, after that, only when he loved Michelle, did they come less frequently, and, hardly at all. With her gone, though, his nightmares are quicker, because he has to murder three people a night, and, it takes a while.

He hates his nightmares, because they make him feel weak. He doesn’t talk about them, because there is no point. The nightmares will always be with him. The nightmares, will be in his mind, forever, and there is nothing he can do about it, in sleeping, or, on consciousness.

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