I didn’t want to be asleep. I was laying defenseless in the kitchen, probably getting eaten by meat butterflies,  but once I’m asleep, I can’t wake up. I’m not allowed to. I woke up in- well… no, I didn’t. I wasn’t awake. I was… conscious. Everything around me was dark and I had no idea where I was. I couldn’t tell if I was inside or outside, if the walls were right behind me or far, far away. It was just dark. That’s all. Then out of nowhere a bunch of sticky roaches crawled across my feet. I stepped backward, startled to say the least. The blackness wiggled in retort. 

I was in a forest, that’s where I was. The trees looked two dimensional, just black shapes against a red background. A tall spindly creature jumped out from the treetops, its rows of tiny sharp teeth slicing into its tongue and its matted mane dragging on the ground behind it. I didn’t think twice. I ran. The problem was, I could hardly see. It was so dark in that thick winding forest and of course the roach goo on my feet didn’t help either. I stumbled my way through the woods at top speed, trying not to run straight into a tree. My legs felt like jello and the air stung my lungs with every breath, but I kept running through the foliage and pricker bushes because my life depended on it. I could hear its warm sickening breath behind me, and I could almost feel its viscous saliva dripping down the back of my neck. My feet began to feel numb and prickly, like I was gleefully running across a field made of cacti.

All the sudden there was a wall. Not like a brick wall, or something of a distinct material. Just a wall of red, like the sky just decided to stop here in the middle of the forest. I thought instantly of the monster behind me and curled up in a ball against the wall of sky. I knew I was screwed, so I just layed there sobbing for a really long time, trying my damndest to remember if it was April or August. 

When I opened my wounded eyes it was dark again . I couldn’t see a thing but it didn’t matter. I could feel the spindly fingers holding me down as the creature bit into my stomach. It took its sweet ass time grinding tiny rows of teeth into my intestines. I felt like I was going to puke, but instead, my stomach acid just bubbled out from a dozen little holes in me. It didn’t feel too great to be honest with you. Pulling at the thing’s mane, my fingers were numb and slippery, probably covered in thorns too, but I just wanted it off me-- is it too much to ask that it stop slobbering all over my outsides and my insides? It’s really difficult to cry when one’s body is so broken.