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Short story shop number 1 - dreams can come true b

Here is one of my short stories. Dreams can come true baby. (All ©)

I have a reoccuring dream.
Actually its not a dream as i am fully conscious and sometimes it is still light outside.

Most times i am alone, warm and safe, freshly tucked into my familiar bed, the soft duvet on top, the streetview to the left and my favourite books to the left. In front of me the glowing television warms down. The day gone, again, and my body slowly permeàtes the sheets and is one with the mattress, a steady decent, drifting away.
Then it starts.

An awful clean scream rips through the walls. A painful venomous face. The ignorant hate of old. Bleeding, screaming, so much, bleeding because. My body, shrinks, vunerable. Paradox. My body, enormous, easy target.
Still the piercing scream. So painful so clean. Continuous. Resentful. Mercyless. Shadows. Of small children. Of street entertainers. Of nothing.Screaming all of them screaming. Pure white noise. Half way between radio stations. Pure and full of hate. So strong. Tearing through your ear drums. The noise is in your head, its so loud that your alone vessels will bust, bones will crack, teeth shatter, face nose, arm. Pure wive noise. Screaming at you. Smacking your head against wall.
Stabbing your skull with a compass.
Untill, very slowly, it manages to, gradually take the tempo. Down.
Heart racing, mind buzzing. But i´m still in the same familiar bed, in my usual comfortale room. Family members smiling from the dressing table.
Happy just to be alive.

And the invisible smell of your own home floating around. I know.
The beautiful world around you oblivious to the horror. As is the way. If the truth existed freely surely it would be the death of all of us.

A final scream. Torment.
Walls ripped apart.
Blood pouring.
Face bleeding.
Bleeding pain.
Screamed at you. Screamed.
And its over. Just as abruptly as it had begun. And i´m still the same lonely boy, in the same familiar bed, as i was before.
But hurt by you.

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