Loop III, Circle 4
The twigs and loose branches that scattered the ground scraped against my exposed legs, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care because I knew what was going to happen. The wind whipped past me, locks of own hair were entangled in stray branches and scratched at my face, and screams filled the frigid air of the forest. The further I ran, the more my stomach churned. This was a dream loop I had to repeat the most, and yet it was the shortest-lived dream loop as well. Swallowing a bitter taste down my throat, I remembered the phrase my guide would tell me often during rough loops, “This is all but a dream. All will end soon.” At those times, I took that meaning to heart and conquered my way through any dream loops and any dream terrains. After all, I was the Dreamer, master of my own mind and games. But my damn guide, Baku, wasn’t anywhere. Though the spirit Baku wasn’t here to instruct me or give any hints how to conquer this dream, I knew that one large step forward was to survive. When the screams finally stopped, I did as well to finally catch my breath. I didn’t know where I was in the forest, but I hoped that I was far enough away from whatever was causing those screams.
For extra measure, I found someplace to hide. There was a large gangly tree further ahead that could provide decent coverage. The bark was rough and tore into my skin as I painfully clawed my way up the tree onto one of the higher branches. I panted, blood dripping down my knees and fingers as I finally reached the desired branch. Puffs of my own breath could be seen in front of me from the cold, but I was determined to stay up in the branch for as long as I could survive and conquer this godforsaken nightmarish loop. I hugged my legs, bringing my bruised and bloodied knees up to my face in an attempt to retain heat. “This is all but a dream,” I repeated Baku’s words to myself. I gripped the rough, torn fabrics of my shirt and exhaled a sigh of frustration. The thought of my impending death made my stomach turn in discomfort. I knew that following my death would be the same things again: darkness, and then I’d “wake up” slowly blinking my eyes into this same loop all over again with the same scenario, the same blurry faces along with the same actors, and the same gut wrenching feeling. I did not want another repeat of this loop. I had to avoid death this time. If I avoided this, then I would be closer to Consciousness. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried focusing on the sounds that echoed in the back of my mind the hospital monitors beeping monotonously, the soft clacks of heels against tiles as the nurses walked about, and the gentle breeze that swept over my face until—
“So you’re the Dreamer,” a soft whisper beside me giggled. Before I could turn, I felt the pressure of tiny hands pushing my back off the tree branch, stomach flying up as I fell.
