How do you think I can make it a lot less melodramatic without having to get rid of a load of stuff?Any reviews are gladly appreciated!
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That night, the nightmares began.
It would be the same every night I dreamt it. It would begin in an enormous room. Where that room was, I didn’t have a clue. One thing I did know was that it was immaculate; there wasn’t a piece of furniture out of place. From what I could tell, it was some kind of living room. There was nothing noticeably strange about the room. There was a sofa, two windows, a fireplace, a rug on the floor and a few exotic plants dotted around.
Observing the room carefully, the feeling of anxiety would overrun me. The crackling sound of burning wood echoed in my ears, coming from the fireplace at the end of the room. Staring at it, an unnerving feeling began to grow in my stomach as my breathing became heavier. Quietly, as though I was trying not to disturb someone, I turned my attention away from the fireplace.
One of the four walls in the room was plastered in bookcases, each one filled with all kinds of books, most of them clearly very old. They didn’t look out of place, but that was the problem. Every single book was set into place perfectly, almost as if they were hiding something. I bit my lip as my eyes locked onto them.
Suddenly, it felt as though I was being over to the bookcases. My index finger slid down the spine of one of the battered red books. Doing so, I could feel my heart rate slowly speeding up, as though it was counting down something. As I felt the book, a small, uncomfortable shiver ran down my spine. Shaking the cold feeling out of my body, I tried - and failed - to turn my attention away from the bookcases.
Normally, when I was dreaming, there was a certain atmosphere. Compared to reality, in my dreams, I always felt like I was in control of everything. If I wanted someone to say something, they said it, and if I wanted something to happen, it happened. This dream was different though. Distinctively different. I didn’t feel as though I controlled it. If anything, it felt as though it controlled me. This dream just made my throat dry and my heart race.
As suddenly as I'd been drawn to the bookcases, I turned away from them and then the same thing would happen every time I dreamt that dream. I would notice an old, battered chest placed on the pale coloured mat in front of the fireplace. The wooden chest was a light brown colour, worn out by age. I realised that it was slightly ajar.
Before I had a chance to do anything else, a noise interrupted me. It was a groaning noise that made my stomach turn. Spinning around, I look towards the corner at the very back of the perfectly kept room. Placed there was a wooden chair that matched the rest of the furniture in the room. The chair wasn’t what interested me though. I didn’t care about that. I stared at it, wide eyed. What interested me was the woman.
Sitting on the small chair was a fragile looking woman whose head was bent down to face the polished floor. She didn’t speak; I wasn’t even sure if she knew I was there. I didn’t even know if I was truly there. Shutting my eyes for a brief few seconds, I reopened them again to look at the woman carefully. Her long dark hair was tied into a ponytail that fell just below her shoulders and she wore a navy coloured t-shirt with a pair of old, fitted jeans.
I didn’t know how it happened but the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the woman. Nothing had changed though; her hand was still hung low. The only difference was that I could tell that she was crying now. She was mumbling something to herself, and annoyingly, I couldn’t understand what she was saying. Simply gawking at her, I fiddled with my sweaty hands. I wanted to call out. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but I simply couldn't. Frustratingly, it was as if there was some kind of force stopping me from doing so.
That was when it happened. All of a sudden, the woman slowly lifted her head. I breathed in deeply as the woman’s bloodshot, hazel eyes locked into mine and that was it. That was all she did for the next few minutes and those minutes dragged on horribly. The woman was silent now, uncomfortably silent. There was nothing to be heard but the sound of my heavy breathing. Still staring at me, the dark haired woman's chapped lips opened.
“Help me,” she whispered. “You have to help me save Tori.”
After that, I woke up.
As my eyes shot open, all of the images in my head were replaced by darkness. Every single detail of my dream spiralled around in my head, making me ask myself so many questions. The first one being, was I some kind of mentalist? Seeing ghosts was one thing, but when they started appearing in my dreams, it all got too much. What was it about that woman that made me feel so uncomfortable? Who on earth was Tori? What was so special about that particular room? Did it even exist? I shook the thoughts out of my head, getting a grip of reality.
With my heart racing as though it was trying to escape from my chest, I could hear myself breathing short breaths. My hands were shaking as I sat up in my bed, rubbing my eyes.
Sometimes it felt as though someone was watching me in the darkness of my bedroom. For the first few nights I had that dream, I assumed that it was Annabel. When I was younger, she would often stay with me while I slept. I used to find it comforting knowing that she was there. She never really did that anymore though. It would get to a point where I would wonder if I was simply being paranoid. There wasn’t anyone in my room with me, right?
The feeling of being watched was the least of my problems; I had something bigger on my mind. That something was the woman in my dream. She didn’t scare me and I wasn’t worried that she would hurt me; that wasn’t what made the cold sweat run down my forehead like a river as I lay in my bed at night. That wasn’t the reason why I woke up gasping for air or why I wasn’t able to go back to sleep. I knew who that woman was. She was the woman who I’d met earlier that day. She was the spirit in my Science class.
. Only what is left to see is what exactly is the case with the room, who exactly is this Tori and how is this whole dream going to change Max's life.
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