Dark Dreams - Septiplier

Prologue

There had been a lot of rain on that day. I hadn't remembered much of it, only that the past couple weeks had been long, and my future could not be any shorter. The rain poured, people cried. The grass grew wet and slick as people stood, huddling in their dark clothes as if it would shield them from the downpour. Hushed whispers were passed back and forth, tears shed, small tissues being passed around only to be dampened by the rain. Glances were cast me and my mother's way, questions about our stability, and I stayed close to my brother as he did nothing to fend off his own tears. These people were not helping us.

As foolish as they were, I remained silent. I had been instructed to, and my hands became fists as I choked back the tears. Everyone went close to the wooden crate, glancing inside and bowing their heads to pray for the man.They moved on, creating a line of people who appeared to pay their respects, and mother ushered me up after everyone else.

I looked inside at the man. His sharp cheekbones and furry eyebrows. His jaw aligned and his body rested as if he had died in perfect peace. One of his arms was slightly off kilter, but it didn't matter. I had to think of something to say, and my 20 year old brain was trying to find the words in a situation that I had long since tried to forget. I never got the chance to speak anyway.

His eyes opened. But they were not his eyes.

They were something most would call dark, if that was an appropriate term for whatever color seemed to have taken them. It was darker than the evening sky in the middle of a winter night, and I suddenly lost sight of everything around me. I felt alone and a much colder emotion took over me that made my heart flutter wildly. I began to shake as I tried to pinpoint this. I think someone said this is what fear is. His eyes were my eyes.

All I could feel was the rain.

....

I shot up with a gasp, my head spinning and my heart threatening to burst from my chest. I could feel sweat running over my muscles on my bare torso, and I took a minute to regain my bearings. My bedroom came into shape around me, and I let my suddenly erratic breath slow. I was home. I was safe.

The rain pattered noisily on the roof above me.

I chuckled to my soft rather softly and rolled out of bed. I hadn't experienced a dream like that in some time. I treated myself to a glass of water, chugging most of it in a few gulps and setting the cup back onto the counter. I stood in my kitchen, waiting for all my emotions to subside, and when they didn't I sighed.

I turned then to my computer, and opened it up. If there was one person on this planet who knew about rain and sleepless nights, it would be the only person awake right now. After all, his time zone was about 8 hours ahead of mine. I called him over Skype, and was not surprised that he picked up so quickly. He did mention that he was constantly by his PC.

"Mark?" Jack's Irish accent filled the speakers of my computer and made me smile. "Mark, what the hell are ya doing awake? It's like two in the mornin' there." I grinned, bypassing the fact that all my fear had dissipated completely and was replaced with warmth at the comfort of my friend.

"But Jaaaaack." I whined in response, running a hand through my hair. "I want to hear your beautiful Irish voice!"

"You must be drunk, go to bed!" he said dismissively with a smile that I could hear.

"No Jack, wait." I said with a laugh. "I actually just need someone to talk to. Don't go." Jack paused for a moment before sighing and scooting a bit closer to his microphone.

"Alright then, it sounds important. What's on your mind?" he asked, and it was genuine enough to make me explain everything without question. I started out with the funeral, and how everything simply fell into place and how the ending caused me to wake up without reason to nothing but the rain overhead. I hesitated in explaining how his eyes were not his own and how it severely scared me, fearing that he would question why I was afraid only to find that I had no reason, but Jack was silent for the entire story, listening carefully and giving the occasional 'hmm' to let me know he was still there. After I finished he sat there, pondering what I had said before speaking. "Mark, whose funeral was it?"

"My father's." I replied, and Jack fell silent once more.

"Mark, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-."

"Jack, you're fine. I just wanted to be able to share this. I don't know what it means, or why it was so dark, but thank you for listening." I said, the end of my sentence nearly cut off with a loud yawn. "I should probably stop bugging you and get back to sleeping."

"No, Mark. I mean, yes, but-. Okay wait, Mark just wait." Jack said, stammering and attempting to speak a coherent sentence. I stopped, looking at the screen as I awaited him to speak. "Yes, you should probably sleep. But no matter what time it is, for either of us, I really have no problem with ya callin' me. I'm happy to help, even if I'm just a listening ear." I smiled, breathing out a bit in relief, and turned back towards the screen.

"Of course, Jack. You are far too kind." I said.

"Nonsense, Markimoo. You are my friend, and a good one at that. I'm happy to have helped. Now get your arse back in bed!" With that, Jack hung up the call and I grinned to myself in my chair. I stood up, returning to my bed and collapsing in it.

I was happy that Jack was such a good friend of mine.