in my dream

in my dream, i woke up in my bed to the sound of a lock scratching. you know that chilling heat that spreads through your body at the moment of fear? my toes tingled with it. in a moment of bravery i wouldn't associate with myself during waking hours, i got out of bed, unlocked my bedroom door, and walked into the dark kitchen. to my right, the exterior door, both locks undone, hung open to a dark and apparently empty stairwell. the door to the spare bedroom was open; the opening was covered by a floor-length red curtain, blowing slightly in a breeze whose source i didn't know.

"is someone there?" i could hear the anguish in my own voice, an almost strangled combination of fear and resignation. i didn't recognize him when he walked out from behind the curtain, but he was definitely male, and young. i don't think he said anything. the gun he raised from his side looked almost old-fashioned, small, and in the weird half-dark i almost thought it looked like there was brass on it.

i winced and closed my eyes when he held it up to my forehead. he shot anyway.

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there may have been moments that i've felt lonelier, but when i awoke from that it made me wonder if i've ever felt more hopeless.