I have always had nightmares. Everyone does. Perhaps not all the time, yet we still get pulled into the shadows of our mind once in a while. I usually try to wake up whenever it happens and then regret it afterwards, wanting to know how it would have ended. There’s never anything special about nightmares most of the time, you just get chased by a monster of some sort as gravity keeps your feet just high enough off the ground so that you can’t run away fast enough.
this time was different though.
it started off normally, I was in a dimly lit white room with what looked like murals or drawings of some sort on the wall. Something chased me through a doorway and down a maze of hallways as gravity refused to work. At this point I started to feel afraid, and wanted to get out of the nightmare. So I tried to open my eyes. Nothing happened. I tried blinking. Nothing. I tried moving my real body. Nothing.
I couldn’t wake up.
everything suddenly became more vivid, as if it was real.

Fear took hold as my body began to shake.


Whatever had been chasing me had disappeared, but I knew there was still something in this indefinite maze of dark white halls. This wasn’t a nightmare anymore, it was my grave.