sleepless mind

2014

note
I originally wrote this piece to be a one-person stage play for a Drama class assignment, which subsequently got turned into an English “creative writing” essay. Even though I was just a wee lad, I think I managed to convey a good bit of imagination here!

“text like this” represents words meant for the recorder

“text like this” represents words spoken out loud

Sleepless Mind

Click. The recorder began to hum, recording surrounding silence on tape. Roasting sun rays, slipping through narrow slits of the window blinds, almost catch me. Like snakes, they slowly slither along the floor, writhing, and hissing. If they were to touch me, I’d burn alive. I get up, take a couple of steps towards the window, and the world tilts. If not for a bookcase which I leant against, I would have been lying on the floor with a broken nose. Off one of the shelves fell the book, “Divine Comedy”. My memory flashes back to school, when we, together with Dante, moved deeper and deeper into the bowels of the ruins of human nature. I leave the book lying peacefully on the floor and move towards the window to put an end to the merciless sun. Outside there was nothing comforting in the landscape. Nothing to catch the eye of a viewer. No one. I close the blinds, killing off seemingly solid beams of light.

I cough, clearing my throat after a long silence. “The Earth is not the place we once knew.” I hear the door creaking behind me. Looking back, I see something flash past the ajar door. “Who’s there?” No answer. I wait a moment, looking at the doorway unblinkingly. Then I turn back to the table, and continue. “Nine days ago, humanity disappeared. It died. Died as a concept, died as a community, died as an entity; as a living creature. Only a ghost of what was remains.” My eyelids are infinitely heavy. I am infinitely tired, tired of being exhausted. It feels like I went to the bottom of the ocean, conquered Everest, and ran the length of the great wall of China. Three times in a row, and without sustenance. “Come,” I hear a voice from the opening. I will not go. “No, I’ll stay here,” I say and the door vehemently slams shut. Goosebumps run down my back; I have to take a risk and close my eyes for half a minute. I am alone in this house, there’s no one else, just me. Just me…

When I open my eyes again, the door is ajar.

“By the end of the first day, one in a thousand had seen the dream. People’s descriptions totally matched. In the dream it’s always night time; you are in your home when it lands nearby. A small capsule detaches and floats towards the dreamer. When it’s about two meters away, it stops, and a bright beam of purple light shines at the person. And they wake up.” God, I would kill for a nap. Sleepless nights do nothing to you but rob you of your concentration, your will, your ability to think straight, then stuff them all in a locked chest; the key to which you can only get by, in my case, giving up. This constant high pitched noise… It enters my head, pierces my thoughts like a blunt sword stabbing flesh. Then comes a distant lonely howl. A dog? A wolf? Something else that is waiting for me outside? I go to the window and make a small parting in the blinds. It’s twilight. I lost track of time. The sun had almost sunken beyond the horizon, leaving behind a mixed palette of warm colours. The yellow residuous circle slowly melts into the desert canyon scenery. The last ray of sunshine leans out from the horizon and swiftly stretches over the landscape, highlighting a low figure standing about fifty meters from the house. I snatch my fingers from between the blinds, and spin away towards the table. A slow knock on the front door. “Nobody’s home…”, I say quietly…

“The second day. Millions of people shared the dream that night. There was an air of something sinister overwhelming us. It was on the news - tv hosts interviewing people who thought they had an idea of what was going on - forums on the internet were crowded with discussions. And yet, no one took it as a serious threat. I’m sitting here, alone, dying from the lack of sleep, thinking that it all was inevitable right from the start. How would you warn people? “Please, refrain from sleeping, it might be dangerous”? Hah. Oh shit.” I sneezed and blood splattered from my nose. The feeling of sickness is disabling my whole body. “Bless you,” a child’s voice sing-songs from the shaded part of the room. I stand up and rapidly cover the ground between me and darkness. As I approach it, then enter it, the blackness of it seems to get sturdier, until I felt like I am trapped in jelly. Although there are no sounds around, I can notice dullness slowly occurring and pressuring my ears. The sound of my own breath seems so far away, as if it were someone else’s. I’ve been making my way through this dark for so long now. Distantly I catch the sound of footsteps. They are rhythmic, sparse, and imminent. There is no more energy left in my body to keep me drilling through this strange medium. And I don’t have to anymore. The darkness ends abruptly. I reemerge and am greeted by the warm light of my desk lamp. In the room that escaped me five minutes ago, I am orientated differently. I stand on the opposite side of the room. The dark corner I entered leering at me. “Oh shit.”

“What happened on the third day? Or should I say on the third night? Every conscious creature fell asleep. And didn’t wake up the next morning. Nor did they the next day. Never again. Their minds are captured in one puzzling dream. I am sure of their fate. It’s mine too.” I gazed at the recorder for some time, then switched it off. Click. I take the cassette out and examine it in my hands. The front had “D-C60 TDK, 60-minute playing time” printed on it. One hour? Odd. I must have spent the entire afternoon recording. The sleeplessness sent a wave of a tremor through me, and the cassette slipped from my shaking hands. I am barely able to keep my balance. My eyes turn to the window smothered by the blanketing blinds. I stumble a few weak steps, reaching for the blind’s handle. I open them. What I see outside does not align with reality as we had known it. As far as the eye can see, there is snow. With all its glaring whiteness. It stings. Only now I notice that my breath turns into steam every time I exhale.

Where am I? When did I get here? Why here? What have I been doing these last nine days? How was I awake? I don’t have answers to these questions. Why, why, why…

There is only one terrifying idea flickering in my mind. A surreal answer. As I close my eyes, someone behind me puts their hand on my shoulder.