Fever Dreams

This is my worst nightmare.

    It is the worst one I have had since last summer, when I left town after the fire. Every time I closed my eyes back then, I would dream the same endless nightmare. I tried desperately to stay awake as long as I could, but before long, my body would betray me and doze. I would dream of them. Those long amber flames licking towards the night sky, and I could feel the blaze behind my eyelids, the heat singeing my lashes. The smell of burnt hair and smoke hung heavy in the air, causing me to gag. I would inevitably see his face, rising through the clouds, growing more solid the deeper I fall into the illusion. His hair, once sandy and light, hung in clumps, blackened by the surrounding fire. His wounded flesh sizzled, and the charred remains of one cheek fell in ashes like filthy snow. When he reached for me, I would always wake up screaming.

    But this nightmare, this pernicious dream, is so much worse. I cannot scream and I cannot breathe.

    I can still feel the dream around me, wrapping its icy fingers around my neck and pinning me to the bed. I scratch and claw at my neck, desperate for air. The thin cotton cloth of my nightgown is ripped violently in two, exposing my breasts and making my entire body break out in gooseflesh. I am close to passing out, but I cannot let that happen. Beyond the mind’s limits lies only blackness, a nothingness you never wake up from. Just endless suffering in a purgatory of your own dark memories.

    Suddenly, there is a release of pressure around my throat as I am lifted high into the air, floating near the ceiling. I can see faint cracks in the paint, crawling along the plaster like a giant spiderweb. I reach out to touch it, but my body has twisted around, and I look down upon my bed. It is empty, save for the tangled sheets, which lie halfway on the floor. I hang there, suspended between time and space, for who knows how long. Minutes? Hours? Darkness calls out for me, but I push against it, hoping I have enough strength. Instead, I am flung back towards the bed, and I land hard on my left wrist. Pain shoots its way through my veins, and I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I lie there, paralyzed with fear, as I see a shape forming in the corner. Inky shadows merge, and a pair of icy grey eyes stare at me from across the room.

    Him.

    He is different this time, his image stronger and more solid. He smiles a toothless, agonized grin and flies swiftly to my side. The stench of him grows stronger as he hovers over me, making my eyes burn, the tears falling silently down my face. He reaches up, running his finger slowly, methodically, down my cheek then to my lips. I can taste the bitterness of sweat along with the salt of my tears as he reaches in to touch my tongue. Bile rises in my throat.

    “Shhh…” he whispers. “Sarah, darling. Aren’t you happy to see me? I’ve come a long way to see you.” His fingers linger at my throat, his skin raw and cool against my skin. “Remember when we were married? I couldn’t keep my hands off you.” He bends down, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down to my exposed breast and I make a hideous mewling sound as he bites my nipple. “Shhh…I really don’t want to hurt you. ‘Til death do us part, remember?” He chuckles softly, but there is no humor in the sound. “Oh right. I am dead. You made sure of that. Along with the baby that was rightfully mine. His gaze hardens and he sneers at me, his rage is palpable, filling the space between us. “Give me what I want, and I’ll go away.”

    Flames erupt around us, and I am still held to the bed by an unseen force. I see and feel the flames everywhere, the thin hospital curtains, my bed, even my skin. A kind of scorched scent permeates my nostrils, and smoke fills my lungs, just like before. I know what he wants now, and I am horror-struck, aghast at what he wants from me.

    I find my voice again, and I beg him for forgiveness, for mercy. To ask anything else of me, except this. I would rather dream of him until the day when all dreams cease than to give him my body again. I close my eyes.

    I feel a great heaviness settle on my chest and I know that he is on top of me. “Please…” I croak. “No…”

    “Yessssss…” he hisses, pushing my legs apart so forcefully I think my bones will break. Appalled at his brutality, I begin to scream and when he enters my body, a knife rips into my soul and I feel like I will die. Just shrivel away while the worms feast on my flesh and my bones turn to dust. Thrashing helplessly on the bed, I am dimly aware of the nurses rushing to my bedside, one of them holding me down as a doctor stabs my wounded arm. I watch listlessly as the flames die around me, and I am thrust into the darkness.

    I feel sluggish and dazed as I float towards consciousness. Somewhere, I can hear the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor and I struggle to open my eyes. A nurse is looking at my chart and I try to reach out to her, but tubes and bandages have heavily burdened my arm, and I can do nothing but raise it an inch off the bed. It thumps back on the bed. She looks up at me and smiles.

    “Well, hello there.” She places a new bag on the IV stand, and then feels my forehead. “You gave us quite a scare young lady. Your pneumonia got worse, and your fever spiked at 104 degrees.” She looks at me with genuine concern.

    “How long…was…was I…out?” I mumble weakly.

    “Almost a week.” Suddenly she looks uncomfortable. “Here, I’ll go see if I can find the doctor.” She leaves the room, leaving a faint whiff of powder behind her. I gaze around the room, and though the sunlight hurts my eyes, I am comforted by its light. Soon, the nurse comes back with the doctor, a man with greying hair and kind eyes.

    “I see you’re awake. How are you feeling?” He listens to my heart and checks my pulse. “Any pain?”

    “A little. I feel…groggy.” I try to sit up and a wave of dizziness washes over me.

    “Easy there.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Well, you were delirious, we had no choice but to sedate you for a while. Your body needed to rest. Pneumonia caused your left lung to fill with fluid and your temperature was extremely high. But we did some blood tests and your white blood cell count is up, so that’s good.” He frowns, clicking his pen as he consults his chart. “There’s something else though” He takes off his glasses and looks at me. “ It seems as if you are in the very early stages of pregnancy.”

    The room spins around me, and I vomit over the side of the bed, choking on my sobs. No, no, no, my mind screams.

    This, this is my worst nightmare.