not everything sleeps at night
my dreams are never that interesting. if they are, it's only because of how little they can deviate from what i live through with my eyes open. time is never a matter and conversations never really seem to take place in any real sense just neat packets of the least amount of necessary verbage delivered in practical and probable spurts. but the first time in a long time i woke up scared from a dream. i've had dreams where i've been nervous before and wake up afterwards sweaty and tired and i do occasionally have action/adventure dreams with stuff you would think would possibly rouse me but rarely does. but as to what scared me, i have no idea why it did so much because it's not the scariest thing i could imagine. i was in a metropolitan business building at night as the city rush was dying down along the ground floor. the illuminated interior shown out like a letterbox panel of amber glow between glossy black. hundreds of tied androgynous workers sat at their computers and worked as if they actually needed the money. i wanted to leave and so i did. immediately outside of the building across the street i turn a corner around a building towards an alley way where my car is parked. the halogen street lamp gives off a light too white and casts everything into glimmers of shiny black absorbed into cracked asphalt. i reach my black sedan and see broken glass wrappers and detritus. key in the lock turned and the handle lifted sitting in the car cool bring key to ignition slot and reach to close the door. grip the handle pull and release. door doesn't close jumps back out slightly like when the milk jug doesn't allow the refrigerator door to seal. reach out again and pull with left hand gripped on the handle and the right hand idly holding the key waiting to turn on the car. there's resistance and again the same rubbery bounce instead of the thuddish close. look down to the bottom of the door looking for the blockage and back to the left around the curve of the outline of the doorframe is a dirty face with the fresh scars of a meth addict hidden amongst the nest of hair in a ratty navy skull cap parting the hair allowing the syphillitic eyes to pierce mine with a passive insistance as the mouth begins to scowl emphasized by a dirty mustache and goatee. i attempt to close the door again but start the car and put it in reverse all with a cool unbecoming of the situation. begin driving backwards stop close the door put it in drive and wake up. i never panicked in the dream, but i woke up in sweats.