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-- Henry David Thoreau He wasn't sure what had awoken him. He sat upright in his bed soaked in sweat and shivered as a cool breeze blew over his moist skin. His breathing calmed as he looked at the bedspread lying on the ground in a clump, kicked off during the night's stirrings. He reached over the side of the bed, picked the cover up draping it over his damp body. He was sure they were the reason he woke up. They were trying to drive him out of his mind with a lack of sleep and dreams. He knew what they were up to, but there was no way he was going to let them know that he knew. They were everywhere and could be in anything. In the bedspread or even in the bed, literally a part of it. He could be laying on top of them right now. Bastards, he thought, laying back down pulling the covers up to chin. Well he wasn't going to let them win. He knew they were the cause of the nightmares and the sleepless nights. With no sleep or dreams to sedate his body and mind he knew he would soon go mad. They were trying to destroy him with the mind numbing madness of sleep depravation, but he wouldn't let them win. Never. He looked over at the clock radio on the night stand, it said `Three O' Three am'. He stared at it and watched it blink and say that it was now `Three O' Four am'. He closed his eyes and tried to force his mind to dream of a pleasant place, not what they wanted him to dream. He slowly drifted off to sleep and dreamed of a vast crystal blue ocean with gentle waves shushing onto the shore in a foamy froth. The sea fell just short of touching his feet as he lay on the sandy beach. The sun was setting in a blaze of oranges, reds and purples that happened only once in a lifetime. A gull cried overhead searching the blue waters for supper, circling and swooping and circling again. An enormous black cloud floated in front of the setting sun from the west obscuring its light and beauty. He knew they had joined him in his dream world then and he had to gain control over it or he would be lost. They gained greater command over what he dreamed each night, dominating his very thoughts. They seemed to grow in power as he became weaker. He wouldn't let them win though. No way. He laid back and concentrated on the red and orange sunset he had seen only a moment before. The cloud reluctantly moved out of the way only to reveal a blackened sun that gave no light or warmth. His body shivered from a cold wind that whipped through his soul. He stood up and shouted to them in desolate anger, wherever, or whoever they were, "Nooo!! You bastards, Nooo." A black bird swooped down out of nowhere and nearly clawed his eyes out. He dropped to the sandy beach and got a mouthful of sand for his trouble. His eyes scanned the area for an escape and saw a cavern fifty yards north of where he lay. In desperation he crawled toward the cave as if his life depended on it. Forty yards away he could see the entrance grow larger with every handful of sand. Thirty yards and he could smell the musty odor of the hole in the earth. He continued crawling with one eye in the sky and one eye on the entrance to the cavern. He felt that if he could get to the cave he would be safe and in control of the dream again. Twenty yards away and the sand turned to stone... Fifteen yards away and the stone changed to small rocks sharp enough to slice into the palms of his hands... Ten yards and it was as though he had fallen into a gravel pit with rocks as large as baseballs and as keen as knives. Ten more yards and he would be there... safe. Five yards away and his hands looked like raw meat. The musty odor of the cave beckoned him to keep coming. Safety, it seemed to say, security and control. He was almost there... Three yards... Two yards... One yard... Inside. He felt safe for the first time in months and relaxed. He inhaled the musty cave air deep into his lungs and felt them constrict. Screaming pain filled his brain as his lungs ached to breathe the damp air. The veins in his neck popped out like worms wriggling to get free. His chest heaved, but no air would enter. His heart began to beat faster than he could stand. Damn them, he thought as his face turned blue and his eyes rolled back into his head. He heard a voice whisper in his ear, " We never lose." Then the world went black. . . "We just lost his pulse, doctor," the nurse monitoring his heartbeat and blood pressure shouted. "Losing pressure fast." "Damn it, don't give up," the cardiologist said as he pounded the young mans chest trying to get his heart to beat again. "No change. Flatline," the nurse said nonchalantly. "Give me 10cc's of adrenalin, stat," the doctor said to the surgical nurse. The nurse slapped a long syringe containing a syrupy liquid inside into the cardiologists gloved hand. With the precision of a machine, the doctor inserted the long needle into the dying young mans heart and depressed the plunger to the hilt. "Nothing. We got no pulse. We got no pressure," the nurse said calmly. The doctor removed the surgical mask exposing a wry smile. "Time? Someone got a time?" he said to no one in particular. "Three O' Five am," someone said. "The doctor leaned over and whispered into the dead mans ear, "We never lose." |
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