Chapter 1: Insomniacs Nightmare
The little light of the night shown through my window, while the stone floor left resonating echoes as my foot tapped against it. The wine glass in my hand was held like the goblet from the last supper. Raised as if I thought this were my last drink. Perhaps it was.
Two days. Two days, is how long I’d been away. Where was I? When that time struck, when my conscience was in some other place, far away? Perhaps I wasn’t gone for two days. Perhaps my conscience had been there, just not remembering. No. I couldn’t lie to myself.
Putting the wine glass down and leaving the room without putting it away was not an average thing for me to do. But then again, I had just been away for two days. Lying in bed, physically, and then lying to myself about the situation. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that hellish place.
Every time… I face an insomniacs nightmare. The peace of a sleep that I rarely get, becoming worse than staying up all night, at least when I start flashing. The bed, so soft, comforting, and warm. One would ask how I could stay awake on such a great thing. And a schizophrenic would ask how I can stay still when this happens.
Tonight however, was a night of contemplation and sleep, the elusive, and yet sometimes disturbed sleep I get. Lying on that soft bed, the white backdrop of my life faded to black as I fell into sound, undisturbed sleep.
The white backdrop reappeared as it does every morning, the light seeping through the window, irritating my freshly awoken eyes. For once, in so long; the insomniac felt refreshed. I no longer felt drained, weakened, or tired. Awake. Truly awake, without a disturbing tiredness lingering just under it’s surface.
The morning rituals came forth after the new dawn awoke me. Waking up, cleaning up, and dressing up was everything I had to do before deciding to walk. Walking, was a common thing for me. And after not sleeping most of the years I've been sick, I’ve learned every place to walk. I knew every alley, and I knew all the territories.
I knew where the dealers dealt, the killers killed, and like me, where the walkers walked. Not in such a harmonious way, but rather being intertwined together, being forced to fit into a space too small. I walked through the sidewalks. Mainly on the side streets, avoiding the morning rush hour. The roads were unclean, letting dirt compile into agglomerations on the sides of the road.
As I walked on the sidewalk, clouds of dirt kicked up behind me. I left a trail of dirt in my wake, as I left the town for the day.
Reaching the outskirts of the small town, I approached a hill. The hill was a familiar landmark, telling me I was near my destination. Climbing up the hill, approaching the top, I was a mere few steps from my final point. The grass underneath my feet changed to a smooth layer of stone, eventually turning into the Cliffside rock face I had spent so many hours near.
Sitting, thinking, waiting. Three things I could multitask at. Sitting on the rock face. Thinking, about the insomniacs nightmare, or flashes, as I will probably be calling them. And waiting… For the next nightmare, dream, flash, or whatever it was. Waiting, took every fiber of my being. Waiting, for some horror to accompany me for an unknown amount of time.
Anxiousness. The worst feeling I have, and a feeling that goes hand in hand with free time. I put my head in my hands and stood up, I may as well busy myself, less I start thinking. I walked away from the Cliffside, coming down the hill, as the stone texture turn to a green pasture. It almost seemed as if the bleakness of my feelings evaporated as I began to walk, rather than worry and think.
I walked back within the confines of the village, a small place it was. I could see my house already, yet I had no intentions of that being my destination. A lone man has little to do in his home. I walked the streets, and sidewalks, seeing the familiar faces of people of who’s names I still did not know.
The buildings, had an old time feel to them. The wooden roofs and bodies gave it an almost medieval essence, but, this was an old place. You couldn’t go to a house without a century tag on it. Unfortunately, cars mad a need for a driveway, giving these houses an odd look at the entrance, all of them. The roads were cobbled stone, since these had been walkways so many years ago.
Everything brought memories of an older time, but I had now reached the market. I browsed the baskets to see what goods were for sale, nothing particularly needed. I settled on a small sum of wine, and some food I would use at some point eventually. I walked back home, a place clearly seen from the other side of town.
After getting home, I prepared a small drink, it was getting dark outside, which meant I would at least try to sleep. I held the wine glass in one hand, putting my head in the other. I took a small sip, and left the glass there. Half full on the dining table.
An odd occurrence came next, followed by an expected one. It was odd that I was able to close my eyes so long… It was expected where I would end up.
