What Dreams Are Made of (A Short Story) Part I

April 2014, I had a series of very strange dreams after binge watching Dr. Who? (More about that here.) Ever since then, I’ve wondered if I could make a story out of it. And after a while of letting the idea brew, it’s time to see what happens.

3:42 am. Gaila should have been asleep, but instead she sat on the edge of the bed with a handmade quilt pulled tight around her shoulders. Since childhood, she’d had plenty of strange dreams, but tonight’s was unusually vivid, even for her.

Wasps disguised as hairs dug into her arms and legs. They even nestled in with the digit hair on her fingers. That’s how she had known something was wrong. Those incredibly long, dark hairs sticking out of her fingers. Upon closer inspection, she noticed tiny, translucent wings. And when she pulled on it, the pain was unbelievable. There was no doubt that it wasn’t a hair but some strange parasite.

And one unlike anything in real life. She tried to console herself with that. It was just a dream. Nothing to be afraid of. Yet she still couldn’t force her feet off of the carpeted floor. Every time she had a strange dream, she had to clear her mind. That’s how it’d always been. Until she could think about something else, she couldn’t go back to sleep or the dream would just return with a vengeance. Tonight, there was no hope of that since every thought somehow circled back to those hair-like wasps and the pain in her right index finger from the wasp she had plucked out before waking up.

She thought about waking her husband, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The dream had seemed very real, but it was just a dream. There was no sense in waking him over imaginary wasps. It just sounded ridiculous.

3:51 am. Determined not to look silly, she laid the quilt on the bottom of the bed again and snuggled back up to her husband. His warmth should be enough to keep the imaginary wasps away. But underneath her silent bravado, she knew better. Nothing she could do would keep her from dreaming about them again, but she needed the sleep. Better to face imaginary wasps for a restless sleep than a classroom of third grades with only four hours of rest.


6 responses to “What Dreams Are Made of (A Short Story) Part I

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