Fallout Dreams: 8) Dreams and Nightmares

I slept heavily. I hadn’t intended to do so, or spend so long in one place. I keep berating myself for allowing it, because it is relatively open, though still out of the way, and anyone could have sneaked up on me, stolen what little possessions I have acquired, and even perhaps killed me.

What did I intend? To sleep briefly, one eye open for the duration of my sleep. Fat chance.

My dreams, so awful. I can just feel the presence of those dead bodies. It all happened so fast, I had no time to think about it, but if I had I might not have done anything at all. I guess there’s no talking with some people, such savages.

My dream: it was dark, patches of wandering mist floating around like slow motion water, that if it touched me I might feel its coldness, its corrosive dampness. Things moved like shadows, dancing around me, whispering things I couldn’t understand.

I kept calling out, foolishly I know, asking them what they wanted. A face approached me, like a vision, its skin blue, white and radiant, almost floating before me, ethereal.

It just kept repeating: it wanted to be alive.

I felt so ashamed, I had taken a life, killed these people, but they were screaming, I saw the blood lust in their eyes, crimson rage, ready to rain down their savagery upon me, blow after blow.

I screamed at the woman, and as if a gust of wind had snatched her presence away she disappeared.

Still, I woke up crying, quietly, to myself.

What choices we have to make, civilization versus survival. We don’t get to choose; our natural human instincts do it for us, kill or be killed.

The sun feels good again as it rises over the hills. This place I am in, I can imagine briefly what it must have been like, these stone stairs that lead to nowhere, once they would have been filled with life, people going back and forth. There are desks down below, I can imagine they must have had people using them.

I wonder what they might have thought it I could have shown them an image of the wasteland that it has become now.

Perhaps they would have pleaded, like the woman in my dream, that it is better to be alive.

I am hungry, I have a few items of food, but what seems most edible is in a tin, and I can’t get into it. I shall have to search now, find something to cut it open with. This knife I have won’t do it, I tried. Last thing I need is to cut myself.

That door, I can almost hear it calling my name, but then, what is my name? I wish it would tell me. I must go inside, but what lies in there waiting for me?

My body aches, but still it feels good, I feel better about myself, that I can survive.

It is silent here, nothing moves except the wind fluttering around nearby, outside these tall ruins. As I turn the handle, what appears to be brass, it squeals. If no one knew I was coming in, they do now. The door is black, rickety, but solid enough still. Eventually that insane noise as I turn the handle ceases, and with it my heart increases, pounding in my chest. A vision flashes into my mind that as I open it, something will leap out and envelope me, some strange creature wrapping itself onto me.

What a horrible thought.

No matter, I just did it, turned the handle and dragged hard at the door. The air was all that wrapped around me, a stale, pungent aroma, dried and dusty, like this place. As I step in shadows play around me, it seems there is a fire inside, I can smell its acrid burning on my nose. A total contrast to that which is outside, and an example of how fresh the air has become in the world, now that the pollution that was man has gone.

I hear a noise, something scratching. It’s one of those cockroaches again, so large it’s like a cat. My pipe takes care of it, as it splatters around me. I wonder if I shall have dreams of these things later.

As I walk there is a long corridor, floors covered in debris, walls all peeling paint and battered recesses. Some lockers adorn the walls, but empty, battered and broken, like the place in which they dwell.

A voice calls out, and I drop down, hiding like an afraid child. I can hear the click of something metallic, perhaps a heavy gun.

I know you’re there…

A voice shouts and I feel a trickle of fear run down my spine. I shall wait here a moment, plan what to do, and be ready. Once again, I fear I may have to struggle for my life…

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