Untitled.
This is a second entry to something I just wrote. Please read the previous entry if you are interested.
I start to run in one direction then change my mind and run in another. Then I frantically come to the conclusion that I am wasting time and running back in the direction I came from. I turn and bolt into the other direction. I run past a giant rock that I half expect to roll over me as I rush by. Then I nearly topple over my friend Sia, carrying her textbooks and staring up at the sun with big eyes and a smile on her face.
Hi she says.
I breathe out some sort of word that sounds like a wounded animal.
She stands there, patiently. What's wrong?
I, I need to hide. I need to escape. I don't know what to do. I latch onto her as if I am afraid Dic will jump out at any time.
She nods. Come on. She leads me to her dorm building, the oldest building on campus built in the early 1800s. It's notorious for being haunted. I push away from her. No, please, please not here. This is a bad idea. This is the worst of all places. He'll already be here.
She doesn't ask questions. Her soothing voice just stops me and says, It's ok. Come in. I promise it's okay. Ellen isn't a violent ghost. She's silent and protective if anything.
For some reason I believe her. But as soon as we get in the building I grab her and we barrel down the dark hallway to her room. I slam through her door and stand there, waiting for a text, to be blindsided, something.
Sia calmly closes it and sits me on her bed. What's going on?
How are you so calm? Don't you see?
She just stares at me, considers something for a moment, then goes and locks her door.
I'm dead and he wants me in that coffin. I mean I'm going to be dead.
She lays me down in her bed and gives me her stuffed duck to hold. It feels childish but I am instantly comforted. She smoothes back the hair from my forehead and just looks at me. I can tell from her open expression that she isn't skeptical but that she quite hasn't worked out what I am saying.
I close my eyes and exhaustion takes me over, washingme over like a shell on the beach.
I open my eyes told find that I am hugging my hoodie and leaning against a tree in the park, my silver ring glistening as light passes through the branches above me as they sway in the wind. I look at it and am overcome by a sudden and all-too-consuming fear. I rip the ring off my left hand and cast it aside, shying away from it as rough blades of grass scratch my legs.
This entry and the one previously written are from a dream I had last night. The reason nothing is very clear is because it was a dream and I chose that I liked having that little ambiguity.