Sharing Nightmares

Alex Pilalis || The Final Nightmare

The Final Nightmare by Alecc0

Tonight will be different.

The thought plays over and over in my head, to the point where I realise I’ve stopped listening to Martin on the phone.

“So your date went well?” I say, trying to get back on track with the conversation. I balance the phone between my shoulder and ear while I fold an old T-shirt and place it in a drawer.

“Well, she did get in that taxi pretty quickly,” Martin says. “But there was also that long kiss. So, who knows? It did feel a little odd though, being out on a date while there were kids running around trick or treating.”

“Well that’s one way to spend a Halloween,” I tell him. While others were out partying in costume, or knocking on doors asking for treats, I had my own plan for the night. “See how she sounds when you speak to her next.” 

“Yeah, true,” Martin says thoughtfully. “Anyway, dude.” His voice takes a strange, harder tone. “I should get going. It’s getting late.”

Oh, that’s why he sounds weird, I think to myself. I sigh and say, “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me every time I go to sleep.”

Pacing my bedroom, my bare feet slapping on the wooden floor, I come to a stop as I wait for his response. Complete darkness shows from the two roof windows of my loft room.

“I know,” Martin finally says. “But it seems like you have those nightmares every night, these days.”
I shake my head, despite the truth in his words. I should’ve been talking to Amy about this. If she would talk to me, that is.

“It’s never as bad as it sounds,” I lie, trying to sound casual. “Sleep paralysis is a common problem for loads of people.”

“And sleep apnoea, yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a serious issue. I mean, it could…”

“It can be fatal,” I finish what he couldn’t say. “I know, dude. Look, you should get off the phone, in case that girl calls you for a post-date chat.”

“It’s not the nineties, anymore,” Martin says, slightly irritated. “Phones can tell us if someone rings when we’re on a call.”

I chuckle. “Okay, then just get off the phone. It’s sleepy dreamtime.”

Martin laughs at the reference to an old joke we have. “Okay I’ll leave you to it, Lee. Have a good, and safe, sleep.”

A part of me shudders at his words. We shouldn’t have to wish people safe sleep. At almost twenty years old, I shouldn’t have to worry about going to sleep – worried that the boogie man would get me. “Thanks man. Speak later.”

“And Lee,” Martin adds. “Happy Halloween.” 

I smile weakly. “And to you.”

We hang up and I remain holding the phone against my chest. My new clock ticks loudly in the quiet room. A shiver runs over me. Okay, time to do this.

At the window sill, I light the stubby candles lined up, as well as the candles on my bedside table and the on top of the drawers at the foot of my bed. A warm, vanilla scent wafts over the room – the smell reminds me of church when I was a kid.
I drop down and start doing push-ups. Both my mind and my body needed to be strong for what I was going to do. I soon become lost in the routine – I can do over fifty reps now.

Breaking free from the demons of sleep can take a terrible toll on the body. Those were the words of the old Filipino man who had told me how to stop the nightmares. It took me weeks to find him online, and longer to research several websites and forums to find out that he was as legit as he claimed.