The room was dim, its corners swallowed by a thick, encroaching darkness that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the shallow breath of the man lying on the stained mattress. Jasper had tried to sleep—truly, he had. But tonight, as every night, he knew what waited beyond the fragile veil of his consciousness.
The dreams had started six months ago, coinciding with the day his estranged sister, Marie, had died in a car crash. Her funeral had been a quiet, rain-drenched affair, with few attendees and even fewer words spoken. Jasper had stood by her grave, hands clenched, as guilt—a silent, slithering thing—coiled tightly around his throat. He hadn't seen her in years. Their final argument still echoed in his mind: her trembling voice, his cruel words.
Now, as Jasper drifted into uneasy slumber, he felt the weight of it descend. The dream began in a place familiar yet alien—a warped version of his childhood home. The walls stretched impossibly high, and the colors were wrong, sickly hues of green and gray. The air was thick, suffocating, carrying the scent of mildew and something else—something metallic.
“Jasper.”
The voice was unmistakable. He turned to see Marie standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Her eyes were hollow pits, her skin pale and stretched taut over her bones. Her lips didn’t move when she spoke again.
“You left me. Do you remember? When I needed you most, you turned your back.”
Jasper stumbled back, his legs weak beneath him. “I… I didn’t mean to. I was—”
“Busy?” The word dripped with venom. Behind her, shadows began to gather, twisting and writhing like living things. Other figures emerged from the darkness, faces he recognized: old friends, long-forgotten teachers, a boss he had disappointed. All of them spoke at once, their voices merging into an unbearable cacophony of accusations.
“You lied to me.”
“You failed us.”
“You’re nothing. Less than nothing.”
Jasper clapped his hands over his ears, but it did no good. The voices filled his mind, drilling into the softest, most vulnerable parts of his psyche. The figures moved closer, their forms flickering and distorting. One moment they were human, the next… something else. Eyes multiplied, mouths stretched unnaturally wide, limbs bent at impossible angles.
Marie stepped forward, her bony hand outstretched. “Why did you let me die alone?”
Jasper fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know it would end like that!”
The shadows consumed the room, swallowing the walls, the floor, the air itself. Jasper’s chest tightened as if an unseen hand was squeezing his lungs. He screamed, but the sound was lost in the black void.
And then he woke up.
The mattress was damp with sweat, his body trembling uncontrollably. The room was silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator in the corner. Jasper buried his face in his hands, trying to steady his breath.
A faint sound broke the quiet: the creak of a floorboard.
His heart stopped. Slowly, he lowered his hands and looked up. In the corner of the room, where the shadows lingered deepest, stood Marie. Not the grotesque specter from his dreams, but Marie as she had been: alive, vibrant, her eyes full of life. She stepped forward, and as she did, Jasper noticed the subtle wrongness in her movements, like a puppet whose strings were slightly tangled.
“It wasn’t a dream, Jasper,” she said softly. “It’s never been a dream.”
The shadows behind her surged forward, and Jasper’s scream was cut short as they engulfed him. For a moment, there was nothing—no light, no sound, no sensation.
And then he opened his eyes.
He was back in the warped version of his childhood home. The walls stretched high, and the air was thick. But this time, he wasn’t alone. The figures from his dream stood in a circle around him, their faces serene, their eyes empty.
Marie stepped forward, smiling. “You didn’t wake up, Jasper. You never do.”
He turned to run, but there was no escape. The walls melted away, revealing an endless expanse of darkness. In the distance, he could hear the faint echo of voices, growing louder, closer. They were calling his name, over and over again.
And Jasper realized the truth: he hadn’t been dreaming for six months. He had been dying, piece by piece, consumed by the sins he could never outrun.
The last thing he heard was Marie’s laughter, echoing endlessly in the void.
