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on: 03/08/19, 12:00 AM
In my teenage years I spent the majority of my time secluded in my room. I would typically watch old horror films while seated on a small couch in the basement I called my room. The few friends I had would occasionally come over for a night of games and films. When one of them would stay over, they'd use the couch to sleep. Slowly my friends would stop coming by except Adam, he mention that the others spoke behind my back. They had stopped coming over simply because the unfinished basement had given them an uneasy feeling. Eventually even Adam would stop coming over, insisting that we stay at his place for the night.
It was only after, that I began to feel the unease myself. The cold uninviting place was even getting to me. I decided to distract myself by putting on a remake of my favorite film, that had recently had it's home release. I began watching with only a fainting interest, the changes that had been made left nothing to latch onto. At some point I began to drift off to sleep on the couch. I don't recall where in the film I had last seen, but I remember entering a deep sleep at some point near the beginning. Dreams where not a rare occurrence to me, but it had been months since I last had one.
However I recall entering that dream state where you find yourself in a situation familiar to normal day. I was standing near the bottom of the staircase that lead to the only door in my room. My television was showing the film I had fallen asleep during. I began to walk in a slow and methodical way, almost floating the way you tend to do in dreams. Hand outstretched, it was pale and gnarled with long unshapely fingers. They seemed to dangle lifelessly, except for the index finger that stretched out with knobbly joints. The arm was draped in loose dark fabric, robe like and extending down towards the floor. As I continued to move about the room with arm outstretched I noticed someone sleeping on my couch. It was myself, back turned and in a deep motionless slumber. I continued to move towards myself, and eventually had stopped hovering above the other me. I stood there for an unknown amount of time, before taking my my hand and jabbing the long finger into my back. I jabbed at the flesh right below the shoulder blade, pressing deep and sharply.
It was at this moment I jerked awake, turning around to where the other me in the dream had been standing. There was nothing there, only the credits of the film I had fallen asleep during on the television. My back where I had jabbed myself in the dream felt sore and hot. I stumbled over to the mirror on the farthest wall, checking my back. Underneath my shirt there was a small wound, trickling small bits of blood down my back. In the mirror I could see the wall where the stairs rested, the closet that had been made from beneath the stairs was a jar. The two slim doors that occupied the space normally a single door would be, were cracked with the right one more a jar then the other. From the crack, a pale visage lurked peering at me. It took notice that I was looking at it in the mirror, and beckoned me with a long knobby finger tipped with a small speck of red.