I'm not a guy who has dreams very often, specifically lucid dreams, but this is one that I'll remember for a long time. I recall waking up in a jail-like bed. Looking around, everything seemed distorted and the walls had a black smoke or void smothering them.
"What? Where am I?"
I started to stand up, but I looked at the ground and saw more of the black void and instinctively recoiled backward. Panting from fear, confusion swept over me. Where was I? Why was I here? What was I going to do?
Looking toward the front of the room, I could faintly make out the bars of a cell door. Was I really in a jail cell? What did I do to be here? Was I the only one here?
Something caught my attention. A shiny object glistened in the darkness near the handle of the door. I squinted to try to make it out. Was it a key? I swallowed my panic and contemplated whether to try to get it, but it would require stepping onto the floor and reaching my hand into the void.
No, this wasn't real. I was having some weird nightmare that I saw in a scary movie, right? I haven't done anything to be in jail, and the void was just an effect of the nightmare. This had to be fake.
I wasn't waking up, though. Why wasn't I waking up? This was fake, right?
The shiny silver object was still glistening in the void, exhorting me to come and get it. I slowly scooted to the end of the bed and looked at the smoky darkness below me. I took a reassuring breath and slowly rested my feet on the ground.
It was frigid. The darkness gradually rose from my ankles and filled me with dread. Was I going to make it out of here?
I tried to step toward the door, but my legs felt fifty times heavier than normal. Dragging my feet, I inched closer to the one thing I knew to do. The void was now up to my knees, progressively filling me with more dread and anxiety as it continued to rise. What would happen if I was swallowed entirely?
My legs kept getting heavier and heavier, but I still willed myself to keep going. I was about three feet away, but it felt like twenty. I could barely move my lower body, and the temperature was only getting colder by the second. It became hard to feel my legs.
Almost within arms reach of the silver object, I could now see that it wasn't a key, but some sort of light. I reached out to grab it, but I completely lost the feeling in my legs and fell onto my chest. I tried to get up, but the void clung to my hands, preventing me from doing so.
No, this couldn't be it. I was so close to reaching the light, the only hope that was in this dreadful cell. There had to be a way out.
I tried using my ability, but it was like I wasn't on Earth. My connection to the ground was cut somehow. Flexing my hands, I tried and tried again with no success. The void was eating at my extended elbows, as I could do nothing but look down and let my panic take over.
Was this it? Was I going to die in this dreadful, anxious, depressing, and hopeless room? I looked up to see if the light was still shining, and the one thing that was giving me hope was still there. Trying again to reach it, now with the darkness swallowing my shoulders and up to my neck, my hopelessness won.
Tears blurred my vision, and there was no way I could wipe them. There was nothing I could do as the void reached my face, completely swallowing me.
It was like I was falling, but time was in a slowed state and almost felt pointless. The fear was gone, and my mind and body felt ready to give itself up.
This was it. I closed my eyes and let myself die.
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I woke up screaming and in a wild panic. Panting, I immediately checked where I was and my body to see if the darkness was still engrossing me. Realizing that I was back in my bed, a voice startled me.
"Eli? Are you okay?" Emily's voice asked with worry and urgency. She sounded wide awake, so I must've scared her when I screamed. I felt like a jerk, forgetting she was on the phone.
Sighing, I rubbed my forehead as I tried to settle down. "Yeah. I just had a nightmare."
I heard her stir, and it sounded like she was sitting up. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Her tone voiced concern. I hated when people wanted me to talk about my feelings, but I knew she was only trying to look out for me. Thinking about it, I wondered if it would scare her. It was definitely something I hadn't experienced before.
My overthinking got the better of me. "I'm fine. It's not a big deal."
"I don't believe you," Emily spoke seriously before her voice softened. "You woke up screaming. I understand having bad dreams, but a nightmare this bad deserves to be talked about."
I knew she was right, but I was the worst at talking about this kind of thing. Handling my emotions and discussing them was one of my weaknesses.
"I don't know what to say."
"That's okay," she reassured. "Throw something out. I can try to put the pieces together for you."
My lip twitched. What she said was sweet, but I didn't want to put that burden on her. It shouldn't be her responsibility to deal with my feelings. I should be able to deal with them on my own.
"I don't know," I said with panic, starting to breathe heavily. "I don't know. I'm fine, I promise."
"Eli..." Emily spoke gently. "You're okay. I'm here. Try to talk to me. You can take your time."
I tried to slow my breathing. There was no way I could break in front of her. She didn't deserve to be here for that. After a moment, I forced out some words. "The nightmare was just really dreadful."
"I bet it was," she said, still in a gentle tone. "Try to keep talking. What was it about?"
I thought for another moment. "It was like I was in a jail cell, but I don't have a clue what I did to be in there. I woke up, and there was a black, smoky darkness on the walls and the floor."
"Oh, wow. That sounds terrifying," Emily commented.
"I was terrified," I continued. "But I remember seeing this faint light that I thought was a key to help me get out. When I tried to reach it, the darkness slowly started to swallow me from the feet up. I almost reached the light, but the darkness got to me first. After I was swallowed, it felt like I was falling into total darkness in slow motion. I thought I was going to die."
"Jeez, Eli..."
I pursed my lips, regretting that I told her everything. She didn't know what to say, but I couldn't blame her.
However, Emily continued. "That's so scary. Thank you for telling me."
"It's fine," I quietly sighed.
"Are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
As soon as I asked that, I knew it was a stupid question. I wanted to palm my forehead.
"You just had a scary nightmare, Eli," she answered in a softer tone. "It's okay to be vulnerable around certain people, but I know it's easier said than done. I want to be here for you, but you need to let me be here. Please don't bottle up these feelings."
I couldn't just stop doing that. I was never taught how to properly express my feelings. My mom was too busy to teach me these things, thanks to her busy work schedule. I couldn't blame her, considering I wasn't sure who else could help.
"I don't know how to be vulnerable," I replied, resting my head on the pillow. "Nobody has ever taught me how."
"I understand, but what you just did was a step forward."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You told me about your nightmare, which means you have enough trust to talk to me about it," Emily explained. "You established some form of a factor regarding me instead of shutting me out. The next step for you is to talk to me more about what's bothering you instead of having to pry it out. I'm willing to help you."
I wasn't sure how to respond. Shaking my head, I felt like a preschooler struggling to learn how to count to three. There shouldn't be a reason for her to have to babysit me. I need to be responsible for keeping my feelings in check.
I shook my head harder. My body was beginning to tremble from the building anxiety. "No, you shouldn't have to do that. I can handle this myself."
"Everybody needs a somebody, Eli," Emily answered firmly but sincerely. "It's okay to lean on the person you trust. I want to be here and help you. It's not an obligation, I promise. It's something that I want to do."
The trembling decreased after listening to her words and tears tried to make their way into my eyes. I spoke very shakily. "It's just hard. Nobody's been there for me to that degree. Not Xavian, not my mom, nobody. I don't blame them, because it's not like I've asked for help. I've been so used to dealing with all of it by myself that I never figured out how to communicate to other people about it."
"I'm not saying you should talk to everyone about your emotions. The people you can trust should be there whenever you need it."
She was right.
I used to be more trusting of others around me. I was an innocent kid who believed anything anyone said to me. Striving to make many friends, I was constantly shut down due to my awkward nature and childish obsessions that lasted later than it should've. For some reason, I didn't give up until it led to harsh rejections to sit at a certain table, refusal to play the games that the "popular" kids were playing that included being shoved to the ground, and having almost nobody come to my birthday parties that were as simple as dinner, cake, and a couple of presents to open.
"I guess."
"I know it's hard, but the more you open up to me, the easier it'll be in the future," Emily suggested. "Just take one thing at a time, and I'm sure we'll get there."
Wasn't she tired? Why was she trying so hard?
"Maybe."
She hesitated before responding. "Why don't we try to go back to sleep?"
"Yeah, that's fine."
We didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. I could hear Emily rustling in her bedsheets as she got comfortable. I closed my eyes, trying to allow sleep to take over.
Was I being too stubborn? The last thing I wanted was to push her away to the point where I lost what we had going. Did she still want to be here?
"Do you still want to be on the phone with me?" Emily suddenly asked.
I swallowed in nervous guilt. "Yes, if do too. Please don't feel obligated to stay."
"I want to be here," she reassured. "I wouldn't still be on the phone with you if I didn't want to be here. Believe me, I've learned how to cut the people who were being a negative influence out of my life, and you're not one of those people. I'd tell you if you were. I don't hold back."
"Okay. If you're sure."
"I'm sure," Emily added with certainty.
Silence followed, leaving me to think about what was discussed. Spilling my emotions on people who haven't been in my life for long was one of the most stressful things I could think to do. Yet, Emily didn't need to convince me as much as Xavian has had to in the years that I've known and been friends with him.
It was easy when it came to her, and I wasn't sure why. I never expected our friendship to blossom as much as it has lately, and now we're asleep on the phone together and we're going to be spending even more time tomorrow. Smiling, I rolled toward the phone and slowly let my mind fall asleep.
However, it wanted to return to the conversation.
I was a loner and later learned to embrace it. Trust was hard to earn. I only spoke when spoken to. I never raised my hand to answer questions or answer when the instructor chose me. I started to space out in class often, struggling to find a reason why I was even getting out of bed every morning. My social anxiety became worse as I aged, and it peaked during my early years of high school.
Friends were hard to salvage. There were a few acquaintances that I still occasionally talk to, but they never upgrade to "friend" status. They're never real. Every time I want to open the smallest door I have available, I always have a reason to slam it shut and lock it tight.
Going back to my earlier days in elementary, I used to go to a school that held many children who were descendants of those with a lot of wealth. I, unfortunately, was one of the few who wasn't fortunate enough to be one of those children. Bullying was evident, and it led to a lot of exclusion from certain activities and being left alone from things I wanted to be involved in. It got to the point where I was slammed into lockers, tripped in such humiliating manners, beaten in the hallways and recesses, and what did the teachers do to help me?
Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.
It's a damn shame how ignorant and selfish they were. They always believed the children who happened to be privileged, even though they were the ones who instigated every single incident that caused me to be sent to the Headmaster's office. How is that my fault?
It certainly wasn't my mother's, either. She worked her ass off for both of us. Due to the spiked prices for necessities like groceries and fuel because of the rampaging war, our living conditions have been hard since I was a toddler. Truthfully, I didn't think it was even that bad. We lived in a decent home with a roof over our heads, food in both the pantry and fridge and a bed to sleep on. I couldn't ask for more.
So what went wrong? It wasn't like I was annoying or begged for attention. I was your average kid who only wanted a couple of friends to show up for his tenth birthday party.
I guess average wasn't good enough. I'm sorry that I didn't try to be popular.
Depression naturally followed me into my middle school years after my mom transferred me to a public school. I grew to hate going to school and refused to talk to anyone. Could you blame me for everything I was put through at a young age?
Nobody seemed to understand why. Whenever people did try to talk to me, I kept them at such a distance that they became offended by it and chose to shame me. No matter what I did was good enough for everyone around me. I couldn't meet their expectations.
Fuck expectations. That's why I started living my own life, not caring about what anyone thought.
I became suicidal after my sophomore year of high school. After making stupid decisions and having nobody to turn to, I was forced to shrink my bubble even more. What was the point of living to please other people, especially when there was nothing to get out of it? People get off on putting other people down, and I was fucking tired of living for it. I couldn't do anything right even after I tried standing up for myself multiple times.
I've come so close to killing myself, but I could never go through with it. I couldn't answer why, because there didn't seem to be any reason I should stay on this earth. I'm scared to live, but I'm scared to die.
When did I become so numb? When did I lose myself? What happened to all of my feelings? When did I become so cold?
I miss the days when I had a smile on my face and wasn't so caught up in all the small things. I miss when everything wasn't so faded.
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