Nightmare

I had to take two glasses of whiskey before bedtime. Without water. And there was one other glass on the table near my bed.

Had to? Yes, because I was too excited after the opening party. My heart rate went over the roof. And I had to sleep somehow, because tomorrow there was show number two. Equally important, if not more, then the premiere night. 

I made it to the bed and half-sat, pressing my back against a huge cushion. I wasn’t able to fully remove the makeup, and it lay as a heavy layer on my skin. I took that extra glass of whiskey and sipped it. No water, again. 

I looked around my bedroom, as my eyes refused to close. How typically boring the room was! As if someone had cut it from a newspaper ad - decor and all. No imagination, no originality. 

I wondered if my fancy bedroom was a metaphor of my life - and worse, of my career. Did my acting become as typical and predictable? 

I took another sip of whiskey. 

All those black and white photos on the walls and everywhere. Me, me, me, my iconic face. Every other actress out there posed the same way, wore identical hairstyles and facial expressions. So, how was I more iconic? Oh, of course. My age. I was way older. 

Another sip of whiskey. A never-ending glass. 

I had to ask my manager to hire a big car for tomorrow. I’d drive my brother and his family to the second show, so we’d need a spacious car. They wouldn’t like the play, but he would. And he’d argue with the wife defending me. My dear boy! My little brother…

*

I woke up tired. That was a usual whiskey effect. And I still felt the heavy layer of makeup on my skin. I didn’t want to open my eyes. 

I caught an unfamiliar noise - it was permanent, never ceasing. As if tons of enormous cars roared around the building, non-stop. Multiplying in their number. The car! I had to tell my manager… But what was that noise? So intense.

I opened my eyes. It was dark. Although, no, there was a dim light. An early morning? But why that noise?

I observed the room. My eyes travelled around, and something was terribly wrong. 

Photographs! There were none. 

I closed and opened my eyes. 

There were none. 

I blinked. 

No effect. 

I sat and switched on a table lamp. 

Oh God! 

The lamp was… not mine. It wasn’t even a proper lamp. It had light in it - and a very bright one - but it was… What was it? Long tube of matte glass. I didn’t dare to touch it. 

There was no whiskey glass on the table. And that table was as hideous as the thing with the light. 

God. 

I touched the bed linen. The feeling was somewhat familiar, so I dared to glance around. 

Dear Lord. 

My bedroom was reminiscent of a hospital space: white walls, white furniture, white curtains, everything symmetrical. I noticed a vase - white, of course - and red, blood-red flowers in it. The only splash of colour in that sterile room. 

Did I change, too? I was terrified and curious at the same time. 

I jumped off the bed and screamed as my feet touched an icy floor. Its colour was a tone darker than everything else. There were no slippers in sight. 

My delicate nightgown turned into an ugly, shapeless pajamas the wife of my battler wouldn’t wear. I looked for a mirror, feverishly. 

And then I saw a woman. My height, my complexion. She had platinum blond hair - like me - but her hairstyle was atrocious. Her hair seemed unnatural. Shiny, too straight, lifeless. She looked like a huge doll. And yet her face was… mine. 

It was my reflection in the mirror! The latter was engraved in the wall,  and as square as everything else. I touched my face - the skin was so smooth, so elastic, and lifeless. No wrinkles. And my neck was clean too. It was impossible to tell my age. 

But what was that noise?

I tried to open the curtains; they didn’t move. They felt like a wall of steel. My hand glided over white surfaces aimlessly. 

Something clicked. 

I turned.

Dear Lord, sweet Jesus and everyone over there! 

Something white and shiny was moving towards me. It looked like a hideous child with an egg-shaped head and huge, lifeless eyes. Or rather, dark, round holes. It had a tray - white, of course - in its hands, or whichever parts of the body those sticks were. 

And on that tray a glass of whiskey reigned supreme. The drink was of its normal colour!

“Good morning, madam,” the thing said in a surprisingly pleasant voice. “Today is April 24th, 2054. And you…”

And I nearly fainted. It was 1954 yesterday evening. 

The thing placed the tray on a tall glass table and moved closer to me. It indicated my hand. 

“Tonight you have show number two, and your brother is waiting for confirmation. He is available now.” 

For a moment we both stood motionless, facing each other. I was calm now, but with a calmness of inevitability. I couldn’t control this nightmare. So I’d just wait for the curtain call. 

The thing touched my hand. I didn’t stop it. It showed the small spot of a bluish light on my wrist. 

And there I saw my brother’s face. 

“Morning, you!” His voice said - his usual laughing baritone. “We’re all set for tonight, right?” His face beamed at me. Beamed from that spot on my wrist. 

I nodded. He twinkled and disappeared. Together with a bluish light. 

Meanwhile, the thing glided around the room, picking stuff here and there. It then pressed into the wall and the curtains opened. The fourth wall was no longer there - it became a huge window. 

And in it I saw them. The noise-producing things. They were flying around, monstrous. I noticed people in them. I clearly envisioned one of those machines turning and crashing into my window. Smashing the thing and me. 

I pushed the thing and grasped the glass of whiskey. I almost gulped all of it, but noticed a bottle of water. I sat on the bed, the glass in my left hand, the bottle in the right. And I sipped from a glass, then from a bottle. Then some more. And more…

*

I knew I was back in 1954 from whatever hallucinating nightmare I had. My eyes were shut, but I just knew. The bed felt familiar again. My huge, soft cushion was there, too. I stretched my arm. It touched the wooden base of a lamp. It travelled a bit further and  - boom! - smashed the glass of whiskey to the floor. 

I opened my eyes. Black and white photos everywhere. My iconic face.