[May 1] [Original] [Waking Dream]
Title: Waking Dream
Day/Theme: May 1/Between the click of the light and the start of the dream
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: None
Rating: G. I apologize for the really uninspired titles and hope to make it up with the story.
The man gets off the bus and strides purposefully towards the block of flats, heading straight for the lift. He glances anxiously at his watch, if he hurried, he'd be just in time. Hopefully she wouldn't have left for her shift yet.
After pressing for his floor, he stabs anxiously at the 'door close' button several times and waits impatiently for the doors to react. An eternity seems to pass before the lift finally stops. "10th storey" a mechanical voice announces. As the doors open, he all but bounds out, excitement giving him wings to leap up the remaining flight of stairs between him and his home. I really hope I see her, I want to tell her the good news myself...
He arrives at his door flushed and breathless, almost colliding with his wife, who was just opening the gate to leave. The last rays of the setting sun slant directly into her eyes, making her squint. Wearied from a day's housework, she looks tired. In this light, the ever present worry lines etch themselves deeply into her face. Gazing on her worn out face, he feels a surge of love for her, a love which makes his heart flutter wildly in his chest. Today I will make her happy.
She gives him a quizzical look, a little surprised at his excitement.
"I got promoted to supervisor today." He manages to stammer, proudly flourishing a thin and rumpled envelope, pulled from his pocket, before shoving it into her hands. "We all went to celebrate over lunch, but there should still be quite a lot of money left... This should help with the monthly expenses..." A few tell-tale slips of paper printed with numbers drift slowly to the ground, no doubt dislodged when he'd pulled out the envelope. The woman sighs heavily before replying.
"That's wonderful! Now I have to go before I'm late for work. Dinner's in the microwave." She pushes past him to leave. Without turning around she speaks again, voice strangely thick with concealed disappointment "You dropped something."
That said, she hurries off with the envelope, hoping that the contents would stretch to cover the week's groceries. In her wake, her husband scrabbles frantically picking up the precious slips of paper that collectively represent all the hope he has.
...
Later that night, he sits in the darkened living room before the television, scanning the teletext, hoping against all hope for a miracle. His head feels heavy and his right arm tingles strangely. Yet he struggles to keep his eyes open. One of the numbers looks familiar. Blinking in surprise, he rubs his tired eyes, trying to reassure himself that it wasn't just a dream.
No way. First prize?
His vision was blurring. Still, he manages to fumble for his winning ticket with fingers that feel more like sausages, thick and clumsy. He looks at the slip, comparing the numbers to the screen, There was no mistake about it. I won. I have to call her. Then maybe she will stop nagging at me about buying Toto.
A wave of giddiness overwhelms him as he tried to reach for the phone. The handset slips from his grasp and hit the floor. A dull tone fills the silent room, worsening the throbbing in his head. Maybe I'll just take a nap first and tell her in the morning when she comes back. No sooner does he finish the thought before he slip into the dark waters of unconsciousness, an unconsciousness invaded only briefly by a panicked wailing in a voice which sounds only vaguely familiar. Suddenly, technicolor sirens take up the chorus, leaving searing trails across his mind. There is a sensation of brisk efficient movement, of someone pounding on his chest and only briefly of pain. He tries to brush them away, but the hands continue pounding. Then the darkness rushes back and his unknown assailants finally leave him alone again to sleep.
...
The lights come on suddenly, startling him. He blinks in confusion. The ceiling above is unfamiliar. He tries to get up, to look around, but his right side feels strangely limp and numb. He tries to look, but its like his eyes refuse move in the right direction, and after some time, he stops trying and gazes fixedly to the left. He feels a warm wetness accumulating in his mouth, it trickles down the side of his face and he tries frantically to swallow. Suddenly, he is seized by a spasm of coughing. He tries to call out for someone, anyone to help. All that emerges is a wet gurgling noise. He is choking, drowning and his heart thuds and pounds. He flails helplessly on the side of his cot with his left arm, the only thing he has that still seems to work.
A green uniformed lady, hair done up in a no-nonsense bun, bustles up to him. She opens her mouth to speak, but only garble emerges and for a while, he stares at her, amazed and confused. Then suddenly, a tube is jammed into his mouth and the warm wetness goes away. His breathing is easier now, but somehow, he is no less confused or agitated. What is happening to me. She adds something to the drip. His drip. Then she mumbles some more unintelligible garbage before leaving. He would have asked her, but his mouth doesn't seem to work right and his tongue feels like a slab of steak, limp and lifeless.
He feels much calmer now. As a wave of sleep rushes up to receive him up, he catches sight of his wallet which lies half open on the unfamiliar bedside table. A picture of him and his wife smile gently at him from their wedding photo. This is the only familiar sight he recognizes. Sighing he closes his eyes and tries to wake himself from this nightmare.