Just A Dream

“They say that when you see a departed loved one in your dreams, it means they are giving you a message. My grandfather was in my dream last night. What do you think he was trying to say?” The woman paused, suctioning her lips tightly around the straw of her frappe latte’ and stared vacantly into the distance. “I never even talked to my grandfather about anything. What could he be saying?” Her voice had adopted a mystic tone, faraway and laced with drama. Her expression brightened and she smiled giddily, “Ooh, do you think he left money somewhere and now he’s trying to tell me where it is? Mom always said he used to be loaded!” Her face fell and she shot daggers at the man across from her, who was clearly not paying attention, “Hey, are you listening to me? George!”

George was lost in his own world, locked in deep concentration and pondering over the sudden appearance of a particularly concerning spot on the hem of his shirt. He couldn’t understand how he’d stained it. When was the last time he’d used something red? The tiniest, most perfectly shaped crimson dot was going to be his torment for the rest of the day until he could get home and attempt to eradicate it. Now, all he could do was stare as hard as he could and try to will it away.

A loud thwack and the table jostling snapped him to attention. The woman stared angrily at him, her arm lying across the table.

“George! Hello? God, you never pay attention to me anymore!” Her lips pulled down into a cartoonishly overexaggerated pout and she leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms over her perfectly structured chest. George grimaced as he noticed her large and manufactured blue eyes began to glisten with the threat of tears. Her voice quivered as she spoke, “It’s like you hate me.”

George stifled a sigh and rubbed one tired eye with his palm, “I don’t hate you, Katie.” He locked eyes with her and gave his best pacifying smile, “I just didn’t sleep much last night. I was listening. You were talking about your grandfather?”

The woman’s face lit up and she gave him a warm smile. She was a total knockout: long blonde hair, perfect body. George often wondered to himself how he’d ever convinced her to give him the time of day.

“Oh, Georgiiie, you were listening!” She placed her hands with their perfectly manicured nails over his own, “Yes, he was such a weird guy. Kinda creepy. Why do you think I’ve been having dreams about him?”

George had never met Katie’s grandfather. He hadn’t met any of her family, yet. They’d only been dating for a little over a year and she would always make an excuse or evade the conversation when he’d bring them up, so he eventually stopped asking about them. He just assumed they weren’t very close. He shook his head, “I don’t know. Maybe he is trying to tell you something.” Glancing to his wristwatch, he gave an apologetic smile, “I have to get back to work. We can talk more about this later, okay?” He stood quickly, ignoring the way the woman’s lips twitched downward and kissed the top of her head, “I’ll call you tonight.”

George was an accountant, and he worked from a small office in a very tall building full of other accountants. While he never imagined this is what he’d be doing as a career, he found the work challenging enough and he did enjoy that he didn’t have to share his office space with anyone else. He also liked that he could set his own hours and could work whenever he decided he wanted to. Although, he hadn’t exactly let Katie know this little bit of information just yet.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and George was feeling quite content with his workload as he locked up his office door and left for the night. The walk from his office to his apartment was brisk. Although they were well into the beginning of Spring by now, this particular evening held an uncertain chill in the air. He loosened his tie and popped his collar. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he quickened his pace. Thankfully, he was only a few blocks from his home.

A wave of relief washed over him as he turned the corner and walked through the gate of his apartment building. The windows from the other units were well-lit and inviting.

Suddenly, a shadowy form on the bench near the lobby doors made him freeze. It was tall and lumpy, unmoving. George could feel the sweat beading on the top of his head. He knew the office was adamant about keeping the homeless out of the area, but he was certain he did not recognize the form as belonging to anyone who he knew lived here. Surely, though, if it were a threat, someone would have asked him to leave by now. There was a reason he had chosen this apartment complex over others. It was rated one of the most secure in the city.

Still, George couldn’t help but be put off by the figure. He was fully in the shadows, even though the entire front of the building was illuminated like a Christmas tree. Swallowing hard, he gripped his briefcase tighter and walked past the form.

As he passed, he couldn’t help but glance at the intimidating figure and he instantly regretted it. The man was ancient, grizzled, with sunken in eyes ringed in charcoal. It was as if the flesh on his face was being pulled inward, vacuum-sealed against his skull. George couldn’t tell if he was grinning at him or if the skin was just so tight that his face was permanently affixed like that. In the shadow, he couldn’t make out his eyes, but he felt them burrowing into his very soul. He let out an involuntary yelp and barreled through the automatic doors into the cheerily lit lobby.

Once upstairs in his apartment, after checking and re-checking that the deadbolt was across the door, George let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto his sofa. He was still shaken from what he had seen but up in his home, with the soft glow from the TV set and the pillow-y softness of the couch enveloping him, he felt safe. There was no way the desk person would allow the man to come in. In fact, they were probably asking him to leave at this very moment.

This thought made him relax and he kicked off his shoes and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, while he used his other hand to pull the tie from his neck. He now dropped this precariously on the floor, as he searched for something to watch.

********

Katie was laughing, her beautiful blonde hair floating windlessly around her. She was speaking but he could not understand what she was saying. They were in a kitchen, but he did not recognize it and she was standing at the counter, talking to him over her shoulder. There was an eerie brightness to the room that left George feeling on edge. In front of his girlfriend was a glass and she was pouring something into it from an unmarked bottle, followed by a hefty pour of a dark liquor. The liquids mixed and steam rose from the glass.

Katie picked up the glass and walked out of the room. George did not move but he was suddenly in a different room. There was a silhouette of an old man in a recliner, and he watched in horror as his girlfriend handed the drink to him. He wanted to say something, struggled to lift his arm to stop her, but his throat felt as if it had been sewn shut, his body full of lead. Helpless, he watched as the figure raised the glass to his lips and drank deeply.

Now, he was in another room. There were the sounds of women weeping, and a stiff coldness gripped the air. The room was empty of furniture except for a lone bed on which a body was covered. Katie and another woman held each other, crying and consoling one another.

George wanted to leave. He did not belong here and he had to get out. Something gripped him to his place. Some invisible force held him down and seemed to be pulling him to the bed. As much as he resisted, he soon found himself standing beside it, looking down upon the covered figure.

His arm moved outside of his will and gripped the sheet. In a horrifying flourish, it pulled the cloth back and George let out a scream. There, upon the bed, was the same grizzled man he’d seen outside. He was stiff, unmoving, and maggots clung to his rotting form. George could feel his stomach clenching and its contents surging upward in a horrible lurch. At the point he felt he could not take anymore; the dead man’s eyes flew open.

George was running as fast as his leaden feet could take him. The world around him was pitch black, but he didn’t care. He just needed to run, to get as far away from the rotting stranger as he could. It felt like hours, days, even. He couldn’t be sure. Suddenly, a light flashed on in front of him and there stood the old man, his face even more contorted than before, stringy gray hair and tattered suit whipping around him. In his hand he held a sharp kitchen knife, a shimmer of red liquid dripping from it, and he gestured this wildly at George.

He found himself frozen again.

“No! Please! Don’t do it! I’m sorry!” He didn’t know why he was apologizing, but he meant it. With his full heart, he meant it.

The man moved toward him and as George desperately willed his body to move, he closed the gap between them. The old man pressed the knife’s handle in his hands. George was face-to-face with him, his eyes locked into the deep soulless portals of the dead man’s. He could smell the earth, the decay that emanated from him and was on the verge of fainting, when the man spoke, “Do it, Georgie.”

And then, George fell backward and everything went black.

*********

“NO!” George woke with a start, all legs and arms, flailing as he slipped from the sofa and hit the floor with a soft bump. He lay prone on the floor for a few moments, breathing heavy and struggling to make sense of what had just happened.

“Just a dream.. a dream.” He stammered, letting his head rest on the cool carpet and shut his eyes against the disorientation that spun through his mind. He lifted his hand to touch his face, but suddenly stopped when he noticed he was holding something. He opened his eyes and a feeling of cold horror gripped him.

There, in his hand, was the knife he’d had in his dream. Its blade coated in a slick sheen of red. A single droplet fell and landed upon the hem of his shirt.