Prologue

The moment the door closes from behind, I feel all the oxygen running away. The lights from the streets are penetrating through the window into the room; it may be 4AM by now.

However, the only thing my eyes can see is pure darkness, pitch black, as if the whole room is just an empty black space.

The only thing heard is my own breaths that become heavier and heavier as I feel the oxygen rejecting me and the air around me is suffocating.

I know that I'm alone, but the feeling of another presence near me is strong. I feel something light brushing my fingertips, and my heart thumps faster. The nervousness takes over.

Turning around, I see nothing but the room, although the presence is still there, as if it's teasing me. I see nothing, but I'm sure there is someone standing right there in front of me, watching me.

I'm scared from the thought, but I close the curtains and sit on my bed, clothes still on.
A hot sensation is wrapping me, and slowly the energy to even move is taken away from me.

I lay down on my bed, but my eyes are still open. The need to sleep is intense, but I invest all of my strength to stay awake.

I don’t want to go to that mysterious world, where nothing is good. All that exist there is only fear, and feelings I can't even name. What controls that world? I would say evil if I believed in something like that, but I don't know.

As a child, you think about the dreamland as a beautiful place, a place where you can do anything and be anything you want. It's a place of your freedom. There are sometimes nightmares, but soon enough the good wins the bad, as in all the stories. You go back to the beautiful dreamland in no time.

For me, all of this is a lie.

There is no such thing as the beautiful dreamland, no place where everything is possible and everything can be done. I have no memory of ever being there, as everyone said.
Only excruciating darkness envelopes me from all directions, making even the smallest movement impossible or painful.

The beautiful dreamland is a place of freedom where everything is possible. The world I know is a place like a prison, where everything is impossible.

It has always been like that, it's a world I've been living in since I can remember. But there is something else. Always lurking around, as if the only shred of something more positive in this darkness – A figure.
A woman? Maybe.
It's blurry, and looks just like a schematic sketch made in watercolor.

It is always the same one; I am always unable to define the face, which never looks to my direction. I call her, and I get no response.
The air is choking me, my throat is dry and my lips are chapped.
Nevertheless, I keep calling, screaming even, following the somewhat feminine figure.

However, it seems that as I get closer, and as I scream harder, the figure is only getting further away, ignoring my existence.

In a world where everything is impossible, I can never reach this figure. I can never define her face. I can never find something positive.

As the figure disappears completely and the scene changes. Instead of pitch black darkness, red. Red is surrounding me everywhere, and a smell similar to iron slips into my nose.

The smell is getting stronger, and my heart is thumping harder in my chest. Suddenly, I'm not standing anymore in this red world.
I'm lying down on my bed.
Opening my eyes, I see the ceiling of my room.

Without even noticing, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

A small ray of light is coming through the window, and it doesn't look like the street lights anymore. It must be early in the morning.

Even though I fight the urge to, I always end up falling into this impossible world, into this dark, stifling world.

Eventually, it doesn't feel like anything is possible on this world too. It is like both worlds are emerged to one and the same, both don't give me a second to rest.

Even two hours of sleep is too much, even two hours are too much for being in this world. I don't like it one bit.

Whenever I feel the need to sleep, I instead walk around the room, around the house, around the neighborhood, hoping this feeling would go away – but there is a limit to every will.

Walking out of the room, the strange presence from before was still there, as if it is following its' pray, waiting to catch me, silently.
Though nothing ever happened, and only silence kept following me through the days.