Dreaming in Crimson

Clarence woke up feeling rather unusual. His dream had been so vivid, so colorful, so real, however, he would never have thought that his body would feel so sore just from a dream.

He knew he had a very active dream last night, but to even consider that his body would be affected like this was just unthinkable. Even his teeth felt like they had actually bitten into several peoples arms and his fingers seemed to twitch at the recollection of ripping out chunks of asphalt and concrete from the roads and driveways with his claws.

Wait, did he just remember having claws? What was going on?

His dream last night was just so real, it scared him. He couldn’t imagine where he would have gotten any of the ideas for it. How would this dream have been able to incorporate itself into his psyche so far that it would be that vivid and have such an effect on his body? It just didn’t make sense.

He threw back the blankets and swung his sore, stiff legs off the side of the bed. It seemed every muscle in his body felt as if it were twisted and stretched, then expected to just go back to normal. Even his jaw muscles ached. How could this dream have induced this much muscle pain?

He stood up only to realize that he wasn’t wearing any clothes, but he distinctly remembered putting on a clean pair of sweatpants before he went to bed. He turned around and began to search his sheets for them, only to come up empty handed. Now he was completely bewildered. He searched a little longer, wiping off the dirt and bits of concrete without a thought. Finally, he gave up and decided to just get ready for the day.

He began to feel as if he were losing his mind, as if he was being pulled from his normal reality and smashed into a completely new existence. He knew this couldn’t be true, but his perception of this current predicament was beginning to confuse him and draw him to alternative thoughts. These were thoughts he had never had, nor did he want.

He walked into the closet and picked out his clothes for the day. He figured that something that ordinary would help bring him back to reality, to his normal reality. Choosing the very underwear he would be wearing for the day had to draw him back, and choosing socks, pants and a shirt just had to plant him back into this world. He couldn’t think that there would be anything else it could do. With that, he chose his clothes, black socks, blue jeans and a bright red button down, long sleeve shirt. He really liked that color.

He Tried to get into his morning routine. Grabbing a towel and washcloth, turning on the water for his shower. He quickly shaved and brushed his teeth while the water got warm, then stepped in and quickly washed himself clean. The water seemed a bit dirtier than normal, but maybe it was because he had been sweating a lot from his dream.

He was a creature of habit, a person who didn’t like change and fought it with everything he had. That was why this dream was affecting him so badly, because it was different, because it changed the way he woke up and the way he started his day. He was going to have to rectify that.

He got out of the shower and dried off, putting his clothes on, making sure to stretch each muscle he used to shake off the soreness. He stepped on the scale, as he did each morning, and gasped as he saw the numbers show themselves. He jumped off the scale, thinking it must have finally broken, or at least needed new batteries. There was no way he could have gained eighty pounds overnight.

With that, he pulled on his red shirt and began to button up the sleeves. He was glad it was a long sleeve shirt, it would hide all of the scratches on his forearms. WAIT! His mind screamed, as he unbuttoned and pulled up his sleeves. Where did those scratches come from? What in the world was going on? He hurried up and pulled his sleeves down and buttoned them up.

He began to button the shirt, starting at the bottom button, just like his dad had taught him so long ago. He got halfway up and looked into the mirror. He realized he had fifteen purple circles in the center of his chest. He almost fainted.

Then, he remembered that in his dream, someone unloaded a pistol at him, point blank. He was sure the bullets would have hit him in the center of his chest. But it was a dream, something completely unreal and unable to leave marks, wasn’t it?

He reached up and touched one of the marks. He felt his finger, but no pain. He knew that he was looking at his chest, which was attached to his very sore body, which also contained his very bewildered brain. None of this was making sense and he just didn’t know how to process any of it.

He finished buttoning his shirt, finally hiding the last mark and hurried out of the bathroom. He headed into the kitchen. Maybe something to eat and some coffee would help him get back to normal. Surely his mind was just playing tricks on him. Afterall, this had been a stressful week at work. He was very angry at his boss yesterday, which never happened, and left before he could talk about it to anyone.

He pulled out the skillet and then the eggs. He would make some scrambled eggs and toast and head into the office early. Maybe just sitting behind his desk, getting his work done would help to alter his current thought process. Maybe getting back to normal work would help make his day, well, normal. At the very least, he could go in early enough to figure out how to confront his boss.

He began cracking eggs into the bowl to be beat, his mind going over the day's agenda at work. He realized that the bowl wasn’t big enough, oddly, then realized that he had just cracked a dozen eggs open and was getting very hungry just looking at them sitting in the bowl. He picked the entire bowl of eggs up and downed them in one slurp, like an animal. He threw the bowl into the sink and rushed towards the front door, to get his shoes on.

He hurriedly slipped on his day shoes and rushed out the door. He was now in a hurry to get to work and start what he thought would be his normal day, doing his normal tasks and being productive. Hopefully that would keep his mind occupied on something other than his dream.

He began to walk towards the office. As he looked around, he realized that trees were broken in half, cars were crushed and flipped upside down. Buildings had what looked like chunks ripped out of them and even the street had what looked like large claw marks in them.

What could have caused this? He thought to himself. What was around that was big enough to cause this sort of damage? He couldn’t even fathom what could do this.

Why didn’t I wake up with all of the noise this must have made? He suddenly wondered.

He walked faster, covering the two blocks to work in what had to be record time. He saw that the damage had actually gotten worse the closer to his office he got. When he turned the corner, he realized that his office was no longer there. The only thing left was a large pile of debris. Something had completely destroyed his place of employment. He almost got sick when he realized that his boss lay on top of the pile, badly broken and quite possibly deceased.

He turned around to go home, then remembered another part of his dream. A very disconcerting part, where he was sure that he was the one who tore his office apart with his bare claws. His very large bare claws. He remembered that it had happened as soon as he walked out the front door and his boss followed him, screaming obscenities and threatening to fire him. He realized that he didn't even remember going home.

He ran home, not caring at all who saw him, or what they thought. He couldn’t take this anymore. Nothing was right, everything was messed up, his mind couldn’t process what was going on. He felt a rage, deep in his chest, forming. A rage that he wasn’t sure he had any control of.

He charged into his house, slamming the door behind him. He flung himself onto the couch, burying his face into the throw pillow on the end and began to weep.

What was happening? What was going on? Why was he feeling so much rage? Why did he feel so hungry? He couldn’t even seem to control his thoughts.

Several hours later, five helicopters and forty National Guardsmen were firing upon the large crimson colored dragon. They had been called in to help stop the beast from destroying any more cities. Currently, they were not doing very well.

Dragon fire flew towards one of the helicopters and it went down, exploding before it hit the ground. The other two fired their missiles and hit the beast directly in the chest. The dragon roared a deafening roar and the helicopter closest to it was sent to the ground by the shock waves.

The soldiers kept firing every weapon they had at their disposal. It only seemed to anger the dragon more and they were quickly running out of ammunition. They were calling for reinforcements and sending photos of the beast to everyone they could think of, in hopes help would quickly arrive.

The dragon had other ideas, however, and breathed a long flume of dragon fire into the men, incinerating almost every one of them. The very few who survived that would not survive long, as the very fumes were highly toxic.

The dragon then glared at the remaining helicopter, who had taken the opportunity to get closer and launch that last of its missiles. The dragon reached out with a speed no one had ever seen and grabbed the helicopter and threw it to the ground, watching it explode with a satisfying look.

There will be no survivors this day, thought the dragon. I will begin my reign, first with this city's destruction, then with the world.

What about my home? The thought broke through to the dragon, like a far away call.

Do not worry about your puny domicile, human. You and I are one, you can live within me and rule with me. The dragon thought, quite amused, that this human still existed within him. We will rule this world together and then we will be gods.