It’s like I’ve been cut out and pasted onto a solid black background.
I blow a raspberry. So, there is no chance I’m conscious, because if I were conscious, that would mean the house doesn’tlooklike a void, but rather, I’mina void. I drop back down to a seat. At least the ground seems solid, if not also a big, black nothingness. This has got to be one of those dreams where I think I’ve woken up, but I haven’t. I have those all the time.
It’s fine. Totally fine. I always stop blinking when I’m one hundred percent a-okay.
Don’t they say that you never have ten fingers (or your correct number of fingers) in dreams? Or didTeen Wolfmake that up? Using all my fingers, I count—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.
Dammit.
The blue polish on my nails is even chipped in the same place it was when I was awake. I curl my fingers into my palms, pressing my nails tight enough that it should hurt. It doesn’t.
I pinch myself on the arm. Painless.
All right, vivid of all vivid dreams,let me out.
“Let me out.” I say it aloud, but it comes out in the barest of whispers.
That tracks when it comes to my dreams. Whenever I want to scream, I can never release anything but a whisper, so thishasto be a dream. Totally, totally a dream.
I would like to exit this dream, please!
My eyes squeeze shut as I attempt to force myself out.Wake up, wake up, wake up.
I peek out with one eye. Nope. Still in the void. My shoulders slump. Great. Whatever slammed into me must have hit me hard enough to knock me out. That must be why I can’t wake up. I don’t think I’ve ever been forcibly unconscious before.Unconscious dreams must be different than regular sleeping dreams, right?Right?
Oh god.Oh god.I’d claim to be freaking out, except my body isn’t doing the normal freak-out things like heavy breathing and increased heart rate. I press my hand to my heart as if to emphasize this, only to not even feel it beat. My hand flies away from my chest.Nope. Don’t like that.
It’s all in my mind. My mind. I am stuck in my mind.Oh no. I don’t want to be stuck here. I spend most of my waking hours trying to escape from here.
I have to be asleep. Ihaveto be.
Why can’t I wake up!?
“Let me out,” I say again, this time in a slightly louder whisper. Progress. I’m trying to scream, though. Please,pleasecan I scream, dream lords?
“Let me out,” I get out at a normal volume. Let’s go, me! You can do this.
“Let me out!” Ooo, that was a yell! Okay. Oh, I am good.
“LET ME OUT!”
Yes! Again.
I bang my fists on the ground to emphasize my further screams of, “LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!” I take a deep breath even though I don’t need it. “LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME O?—”
“Holy shit. What do you want?”
I falter, halting before my fist makes contact with the floor.
That was not my voice.
It was deep, tone silky smooth and tempting in a way that only exists in fantasies and romance novels. I mentally patmyself on the back for my creativity in conjuring such a voice.
“Hello?” I say cautiously, scanning the area to locate the source of the voice.
The voice repeats slowly, “What. Do. You. Want?”
“Uh, to leave?”
