I yawn, and lay my head back onto my pillow, my eyelids are heavy as lead, and shut involuntarily. I struggle to keep them open, but again they close.
It’s happened again, I’m there. At the back of that ordinary classroom, full of ordinary children, with ordinary notes on the blackboard I can see myself, no, not again. I think I see myself. I’m sitting, totally oblivious to the danger that waits.I shout, “run, run. Run and save yourself,” but it is in vain.
Then suddenly I filter into my dream and I am sitting in the classroom.I am confused, I start to cry. The teacher at the front of the room gasps as he glances out of the window, and runs out of the room. All the other children, my imaginary classmates, also leave the room in single file. All except one.
Me. I try to stand, but my legs won’t move, my heart is pounding, and beads of sweat drip down my forehead. Oh, it’s happening again I know what will proceed, yet I do not. It’s happened so many times before. I try to tell myself it’s not real, but it is. I know it is.
Then through the open door, steps anger, terror, sadness, savageness, and uncaring misfortune all rolled into the single form of a small, black creature. The wolf .It’s jaws wide, drooling, sniffing.
It can smell my fear. It’s oh so unreal, yet it’s more real than life itself . I wonder, is the life I live outside my twisted dreams, my real life, or am I only really living in my dreams?I neither know nor care.I try again to run. But fear, glues me to my seat, I anxiously wait for it to strike, to devour me, and once again end this episode of my broken dreams.But worst of all, it doesn’t. It just stares, cutting through me with those sharp, menacing, black eyes. I pray for it to all be over, but it isn’t.
I’m being studied, manipulated, by a beast of far greater significance. Hairs on the back of my neck prick up, and shivers race up and down my spine.Suddenly, movement. Slow menacing movement, The powerful leg muscles bulging, the dreadful eyes burning through my own.I feel tears of fear run down my cheek, as I clench every muscle in my body so hard I feel they might crack. My bleary eyes on the wolf all the time.
It stops by the foot of my desk, I can feel the hot, moist breath on my face, and I still cannot run, to escape my inevitable death.Back arches, jaws widen and it crouches. Ready to pounce and devour.Then my eyes flick open. It was a dream, or rather ‘The dream.
‘ ‘The dream of a wolf.’Now I’m back In reality and have escaped my cruel twisted world of dreams. Or have I just been dragged from my safe dreamland, only to face the harsh reality of my world? Who knows? Least of all me.Time after time I’ve witnessed the dream, I become more increasingly aware of the fact that I can no longer decipher reality from fantasy. It’s only a dream-it cannot affect me.
Or can it? Has it already? I have realised now, that it has more power than anything I’m sure to be real.