His recent tremor, seemed more real and more noxious than any he had previously dreamt. Distraught, he leapt from his bed in an icy cold sweat, his eyes burning like hot coals from the depths of a fire. His nerves heightened, engulfing his body in a quiver as fear swept over him. He gasped for breath, as if drowning in the depths of an icy cold current. Shaking off the effects of the dream, he began pacing the length of the room, until, even that offered little comfort or solace from his nightmares. Eventually he found himself slumped into the corner where he now sat.
He contemplated, again, his circumstances. The night tremors, now increasingly frequent, kept him from engaging in any sort of restful sleep.
What made him more uneasy, was the sense that an unseen power or dark magic was somehow holding his subconscious hostage, consuming it in a web of spells that would torment his mind over and over again, in a taunting sort of way. Yet, his mind seemed wanting to uncover a dark secret that tormented its very soul. However an inner turmoil prevented the full account from ever being uncovered in its fullest capacity. So he continued to have these partial dreams, fragments of a past life, splayed out on the stage of his mind.
Now, in the corner, he wracked his brain, wanting to understand the tremors that kept him awake. Yet, he could come up with no reasonable explanation. He sat there, head on his knees, dumbfounded.
Suddenly, in an instant, a brilliant flash of light cut through the dreary darkness of the room, illuminating everything in sight. Virtually in that same instance there came a loud thunderous clap. The window vibrated, seemingly ready to shatter. Within seconds, he heard the slow, soft pitter patter of raindrops falling against the window pane.
The rainstorm seemed to wake him from his deep thoughts and drowned out the monotonous sound of the clock on the wall. It was a welcome change in rhythm. The rain, however, offered no relief from the doldrums of his thoughts.
Depressed, he looked up at the clock.
Two o’clock? The reality made him wince. He had been in this state of mind for over two hours.
As he struggled to put aside his thoughts and clear his mind, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding overcome his subconscious and creep ever so subtly into his conscious mind. He seemed aware of something lurking. He began to get restless again.
A drink! I need a drink! Maybe that will help clear my head.
Jumping to his feet, he fetched his thick rawhide coat from the closet. It smelled of musk, aged leather. The smell reminded him of his days, growing up in his father’s shop. He used to watch his father strip, treat, and cut the leather before hand crafting the most exquisite belts, holsters, coats, chaps, saddle bags, and much more. As a parting gift, his dad had crafted the very coat he now wore. Its warmth and rich musky smell provided a temporary escape from his torturing thoughts. It provided him with warm memories of his childhood.
Rummaging through a pile of paperwork on his bedside table, he fetched some credits and his keys, and set out into the night…
Watch for continuing Johnny Pheryl updates here or Follow on Twitter: @Johnny_Pheryl and Facebook: facebook.com/AlanZaugg.
© Alan “Jedi” Zaugg 2018