Suddenly, I feel my body come to awareness, my vocal cords reverberate a scream out into my bedroom. My attention immediately shifts to the now silent room, a veil of cold sweat becoming apparent as I sit up off the mattress.

I survey the room with wary silence for a long moment. My mind seems as though it is revolting against reality in the awe of abject terror. That didn’t seem like a mere dream. I stare for a moment in blank awe at the wall in front of me before curling unto myself. Collecting myself, I correct the fearful posture of my back into a straight form. 

I always have nightmares when it’s warm under the covers---must just be because I'm uncomfortable. At the same time though, I have not had a ‘nightmare’ like that since I was probably 6… 

Tired of my introspective thoughts and wanting to dispel all of this anxiety, I take a few deep breaths to try and disperse it from my chest. Unlike most times in my life where breathing carries away my anxious feeling, this time it remains just as strong. Hoisting my tired body off the bed, I rest my feet on the cold floor and wait until the shock subsides before standing up. I stabilize my sleepy balance and walk into the kitchen. 

My body carries itself without thoughts as it tries to find something to do so my brain isn’t occupied. I decide to make a cup of coffee out of habit, although when I look at the clock and the corresponding darkness outside the window blinds, it dawns on me that it is still the dead of night. 

Probably not a good idea for coffee after that nightmare but… And I don’t usually have nightmares like that. Must be some sour feelings dredging up or something.

There’s always that fear of the possibility that if you go back to bed right after a nightmare, that you’ll just end up in the same dream and repeat the cycle. Standing still momentarily and staring at the ground, my mind whirls into blankness until I snap back to reality. I’ve had a lot of dark dreams but I can’t shake the feeling that this actually happened. 

I decide to make the coffee anyhow, even though I know this will reduce my chances of catching some good sleep to zero, if I try to go back to bed. Granted, it’s not like I really want to go back to bed. 

I mean it’s not often something that interesting happens in a dream. That dream scares the shit out of me and yet I can’t shake this subtle elation at imagining myself in a world like that. It would be cool, I mean. That’s why there are so many TV shows around the heroes that prevail when the world ends. People look up to the hero when they undertake adventure. What’s more adventurous than you, the broad world, and everyone else. 

In truth I know I am just trying to hide away from how scared I am right now. Normally I would be intrigued by these dreams. They would be pretty cool. Sometimes it is nice to entertain the thought of an alternate place where you aren’t just safe and sound all the time, where the only thing you worry about is boredom. I am covering up my fear with the hope that this is just another cool dream. An escape from reality. 

I decide to tune into the TV, having finished my coffee quite quickly, tuning into any channels that take my attention until day breaks and the news comes on. 

I can’t help but think that the world must be a little too peaceful if the worst thing that’s happening is a fire, some political scandal, or the stock market. I heard when my parents were young that there were wars raging with the threat of the destruction of the entire world. Everyone came together in times of need. It was commonplace for there to be school drills for bombs and people even had bunkers in their backyard. In a lot of ways it brought people together. When my great grandparents were young it was even worse.

I thought it earlier but that dream seems like some kind of dredging of my past. I’m better about it now but I really was not in a good place in my life 2-3 years ago. That dream had the exact same energy as back then. Hell, I might be in a worse spot now.

I would like to believe the one saving grace my parents had was that they tried to raise me right. God, they were self righteous because of it though. Pill popping, alcoholic, and cheating mother. Maybe worse than that, a father that forgave everything she did and even defended her. I had a hard time looking up to him like a father. I wanted every father figure I saw online to be my dad, and every woman who took care of me to be my mother. I had a true love sickness. At the same time, my past experiences made me reflexively distrustful of people. Even if I believed I trusted someone, I didn’t really. I never opened up.

I moved out the day I turned 18 with some of the money I saved up from the job that my parents helped me get. I felt guilty with every thought that came to mind when I thought about them, but everyone I meet who knows what they were really like tells me I was justified. 

Being alone makes you realize how lonely you really are. Sometimes people are lonely but they have others around them masking the fact that they can’t really talk about anything with them. They go years without having a meaningful relationship and then suddenly burst into insanity. Everyone wonders why. “He was such a good hearted and lively person.” The guy with 20 people to talk to but no friends. Lonesomeness is like a panging anxiety that never goes away no matter the time of day. It’s a constant self doubt. I was the same way. I related to my peers just enough to get by, letting my inherent distrust of everyone around me regulate how deeply I got involved. It meant that no matter how many people I knew, talked to, hung out with, at the end of the day when I was in a room alone it would crash down on me.

I feel my chest growing tighter and a new wave of adrenals taking effect but I ignore the feeling in the march of my thoughts.

My brain drifts into depression at my loneliness and inability to ever do anything in this world

This coffee is just making everything worse. Figures.

I get up in helplessness against my feelings of anxiety and put on a zip-up hoodie and some shoes, not minding to change out of the jeans and t-shirt I had slept in the night before. Stepping out into the hallway of my apartment, I make my way to the lobby and subsequently onto the city street. Ignoring everyone around me with my hood up, I start my walk hoping to release all the energy building inside of me. 

If this doesn’t stop by the end of the day, I’m gonna check myself into the hospital. 

I ignore the bustle of the cars and people walking around me, blending in with everyone else who does not want to be noticed on a busy morning. 

This is a world full of people. It’s artificial. Concrete jungle they call it. There’s nothing really more ironic about calling this place a jungle considering it’s the least natural place anyone could live.

After walking a couple blocks down the street, I step into my favorite comic shop figuring that doing something I typically enjoy will take my mind off of that horrid dream. To be honest, I don’t really understand why it’s making me feel this way. I feel scared right now, but I’m not sure why. It just felt so real… I take a moment to browse their newest selections and ask a couple questions to the worker there, whom has helped me with many recommendations in the past. 

“We just got some of the newest prints in here this Monday. They were recently adapted from some manuscripts that were really popular in the writing competition a couple years ago, I’m sure you would enjoy them.” The worker says.

“Thanks, but I’m just looking today, I’ll come back to snag a couple next payday, they raised my rent again.” I say. 

Not that my rent went up at all. I think to myself, not really feeling guilty at my casual lie, just trying to relate to what seems to be everyone else's hell around here. Nevertheless he takes my word for it and offers his mild condolences, but all it leaves is a bitter taste in my mouth from the interaction.

I take my leave and head back to the apartment, taking the long way around the back of the building. I pass by the back of the restaurant I usually frequent when I am too tired from work to cook, and can’t help but notice that the back door is a freshly painted red that looks familiar. That’s a very out of place door, it looks like it belongs in the front of a house. I forget the thought in a hurry, not wanting to think too deeply into anything right now.