Lucid Dreamer The Entities

The yellowish ambiance was everywhere in this dream, which differed from her original earthy red. Ava was standing before the large mirror of the public bathroom, putting on her red lipstick. The round lights on top of the mirror almost blinded her with their intensity. Two ladies chattered beside her, waiting for their friend.

That friend came out of a toilet cabin and, as she approached Ava, her face morphed into a grimace of anger in the mirror. Ava rolled her eyes and sensed from the dream, as a warning, as a trick she had (her control of her dreams), that the friend would punch her. But that wasn’t going to happen. Ava turned around, suddenly angered, and as the friend lifted her fist, Ava raised her palm and thought: “You’re going to be so slow, you’ll miss the punch.”

And it worked. Just like she knew it would. So the friend’s fist travelled very, very slowly, and Ava just smiled and walked away with her purse. The punch hit the air when Ava was feet away.

Control and awareness in her dreams were fun and essential. Her mother had trained her as a child to control her dreams and know whenever she was asleep. Her mother would tell Ava how it was her dreams, not the other way around, and that she could control them if she disliked them, make things appear out of thin air or just have fun. And she’d bought in the idea, little by little during her childhood, Ava had realized she was dreaming. Then control came in small bursts until it stayed forever. Except for nightmares. They were a whole other beast than usual dreams…

Ava, grinning, conjured up a door to another dream. She was bored with this one, too normal. She preferred adventures and mysteries. As she grabbed the door knob and turned it, a wave of worry and fear hit her. But it was too late despite the dreamworld’s warning. The door flung open and the nightmare’s dark energy forced Ava to cross the threshold, just like a magnet. It closed behind her and she jumped, her long brown hair falling into her face. She gulped and pushed the locks away.

She took a good look at the dark city at night, divided by several alleys. Ava closed her eyes and swore. Her worst nightmare. The rapist with the jagged knife.

Just great!

She sensed a nasty presence to her left, and she stared at him. The black-haired man smiled wickedly at her, his eyes wild, and a jagged, rusty knife in his hand.

No matter how much she wanted to delete him or conjure her way out, nightmares reduced tremendously her dream powers. She could only sense warnings and what was going to happen. Sometimes she could move a bit faster, but nothing else much.

“Hello, beauty,” the man cooed.

Ava frowned and clenched her teeth. She knew what part of her recurring nightmare she was entering: the race. So, there was no point in trying to avoid it; she ran. The young woman just hoped he’d kill her fast this time, without raping her, and she’d switch to another dream or simply wake up. Because whenever she died in her dreams, she felt pain, yes, but the dream either changed or she’d start again at the beginning, trying to find the right solution so she could live. Weird enough? Much so. But she was used to it.

And this time it was a bit different; not in her favour, mind you.

Ava turned the corner abruptly and ran deep into the alley overridden by trash and cats hissing. When she arrived at the usual brick wall, she whirled on her feet, her hair slapping her face as she panted. Her stalker towered over her, grinning. It was odd, how fast he’d been and how slow she was. She usually had more speed… His hand gripped his disgusting knife tightly. There was nowhere else to escape, yet she still fought. Desperately. Her emotions were high, her imaginary heart racing as the guy jumped on her and grabbed her by the throat. He choked her as he threw her on the floor, kneeling over her struggling body. His wild eyes shone with lust and a deeper, darker desire. One all women feared in their core since their young age: the one where men want to kill you.

“Let me touch you,” he says wistfully, his dark eyes wide. He caressed her cheek and smiled.

Ava grimaced with disgust and flinched. He raised the knife and as she screamed into the night, under the full moon, he stabbed her repeatedly in the chest. She cried and splayed her hand on his face, but still the stabbing came. One, two, three… Blood poured out of her mouth and she choked, searing pain bursting across her chest. Her vision blacked and…

At least he hadn’t raped her this time.

Ava straightened up in her bed, groaning. The images and raw terror from her dream kept floating before her in her mind’s eye. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. It wasn’t worth dwelling on this, but she knew it’d stick around the whole day due to its intensity.

At least she’d managed to control the first dream, slowing down that punch like Carrie’s telekinetic powers from Stephen King’s story. That was worth it!

She rose from her bed and decided to leave the blankets and the bed unmade. She had no energy to do this, what with the fear lingering in her chest.

It was just a dream… Your recurring nightmare, nothing else.

But she knew this wasn’t completely true. There was something else… She didn’t have much control in her nightmares, she never had, but this scarce control had been diminishing at an alarming rate these last weeks. Her mind kept elaborating a theory that this wasn’t all right, that there was something very wrong with her lucid dreaming abilities. Something was going on. But Ava didn’t want to waste her precious waking time pondering over that… After all, they were just dreams and nightmares.

She bit her lip and nodded, willing herself to believe it. Although, again, she felt this wasn’t entirely true either. She hated when her intuition and heart told her something and she was fighting to reason herself; because in the end, her heart and intuition were always right.

Ava exhaled loudly, then looked at herself in the tall standing mirror.

Ugh, I look awful!

Her brown hair was messy, her eyes had dark circles under them, and she looked like a zombie overall. She tsked, then changed from her pjs to her skinny jeans and a pink T-shirt with a white, fake pearls bracelet on her right wrist.

It was early, too early to wake up for work, but she didn’t trust her dreams if she fell asleep again. The fear gnawed at her. When you lived alone, as a young woman, this fear was ever-present. Would a man invade your home? Would he abuse you in an alley? Would he rape you or kill you? Or would he rape you AND kill you?

All those questions tormented her, and her worst nightmare kept reminding her of them. She didn’t know which of her recurring nightmares she preferred: this one with the mad killer or the giant octopus who forced her to drown?

Ava pouted, then shrugged. They’d been getting more intense and scarier lately, as though they were real, and her emotions were heightened in them, too… Something was amiss, but she didn’t know what. And wasn’t particularly keen on finding out. Speaking of intensity, what was it about her stalker wanting to “touch her”? He’d never uttered those words before nor caressed her cheek like that. Creepy and unsettling. Still, it rang an alarm bell in her head.

The 23-year-old left her bedroom and entered the small kitchen. It wasn’t pretty, with old furniture, but it was functional. She was getting the hang of having a job after university, so bear with her. For now, she still had to buy at discount and drive an old car. But it was all right, she loved her job and it was the first step to her career as a journalist.

Ava made herself strawberry jam toasts, and ate them slowly. Her stupid fear kept twisting her stomach. She wondered if her loss of control would just keep on going… or it’ll retract at some point and return to normal. Unfortunately, based on life and its habit of never returning to its previous state, she doubted it.

Was she losing her lucid dreaming ability altogether?

Ava shuddered at the thought and took the last bite of her toast. She looked at the pitiful crumbs on her empty plate and grimaced. No, no, she couldn’t lose it! She’d been trained young to control her dreams! This wasn’t something you lost.

Was it?

She heaved a sigh and stood up. Shrugging her grey suit coat on, Ava concluded she’d have to dig into this lucid dreaming ability. She’d always avoided researching it and looking for others with the same ability, she was content with her own reality and was even smug about it (wouldn’t knowing others like her tone down that pride? Yes, it would.) But she had to investigate.

As Ava closed the door, she stopped in the threshold and looked over her shoulder. There was no one, of course, but still she could feel a presence… Something that didn’t belong here, that crept up on her, that observed her. It was insane, and scary as shit, she knew, but despite the emptiness of her apartment, she could have sworn her stalker from the nightmare was right there. Ava gulped, then locked the door. She’d contact others and find out why her nightmares were worsening.

Truth always prevailed.