(no subject)
Hours passed by, and Kurt was a no show.
‘He probably got tied up or something…’ she thought, with a sigh, hoping it was that, rather than him doing this on purpose. She got up and walked through the park, all the while doubting whether she should really tell him. The all-too-refreshing breeze blew hard against her body, and she wished she were somewhere warm. Perhaps in Kurt’s homey cottage, in front of his fireplace, savoring each and every ember.
No. She had to snap out of it. He was married; out of her reach.
All of a sudden, she vaguely heard light snoring. She looked all around. No one was to be seen. The noise grew louder as she took each step. Confused, she started to search the premises. Much to her surprise, as she’d approached a specific bush, the noise was loud as ever. Looking behind it, she found Kurt sprawled out on the ground, deeply sleeping. She laughed, and poked him in the cheek. No immediate response. Snore. He then twitched a bit, and lurched awake.
‘‘Holy fuck!’’ he exclaimed.
He stared at her intently, baffled by her presence.
‘‘Oh, sorry,’’ he apologized.
‘‘Why so shaken up?’’ Rebecca asked, with a trace of concern in her voice.
‘‘I just--no… You’d think I’d finally lost my mind.’’
‘‘You mean, you haven't already?’’
‘‘Hah hah,’’ he said dryly, ‘‘I’m being serious, here. Or, well, trying to.’’
‘‘I’ve never known you to be serious.’’
‘‘There’s a first time for everything,’’ he snapped, ‘‘I can be serious sometimes, and damn it, now is one of those times. ’’
‘‘Alright, alright… fair enough.’’
His anger was alarming.
‘‘Well, I had a really, fucking freaky dream. Maybe it was the smack messing with my mind; maybe it’s just something I fear, subconsciously. I don’t know…’’
‘‘And what, may I ask, happened in this dream of yours?’’ Rebecca mused.
He sat up normally, and rested his back against the nearest tree. He sighed a bit, and it looked vaguely like he was contemplating whether he should tell anyone, let alone her.
‘‘Um… well, okay. I dreamt that someone was trying to fuck me over. I didn’t get a good look at who it was. At various times during the dream, they would give me these really huge dosages of heroin, and it would make me go into comas. And although I kept waking up, they kept trying over, and over, and over…’’
A look of pain came over his face as he described it more deeply, going on to tell her strangley specific sequences; he almost resembled a wounded child. Rebecca had a nagging feeling that he might actually be in danger, but dismissed it almost immediately. How many people actually have forseen their deaths in dreams? Not many.
comment, comment, comment. i know it's really short, and for that i am sorry. and i know it stops at an extremely bad place, but ms word keeps screwing me over and i don't have time to wait for it. i'll try to go on with it tomorrow, when i get back from school, but can't promise much till no earlier than friday. i'm horrible, i know.
btw, how many of you actually want me to keep going with this?
‘He probably got tied up or something…’ she thought, with a sigh, hoping it was that, rather than him doing this on purpose. She got up and walked through the park, all the while doubting whether she should really tell him. The all-too-refreshing breeze blew hard against her body, and she wished she were somewhere warm. Perhaps in Kurt’s homey cottage, in front of his fireplace, savoring each and every ember.
No. She had to snap out of it. He was married; out of her reach.
All of a sudden, she vaguely heard light snoring. She looked all around. No one was to be seen. The noise grew louder as she took each step. Confused, she started to search the premises. Much to her surprise, as she’d approached a specific bush, the noise was loud as ever. Looking behind it, she found Kurt sprawled out on the ground, deeply sleeping. She laughed, and poked him in the cheek. No immediate response. Snore. He then twitched a bit, and lurched awake.
‘‘Holy fuck!’’ he exclaimed.
He stared at her intently, baffled by her presence.
‘‘Oh, sorry,’’ he apologized.
‘‘Why so shaken up?’’ Rebecca asked, with a trace of concern in her voice.
‘‘I just--no… You’d think I’d finally lost my mind.’’
‘‘You mean, you haven't already?’’
‘‘Hah hah,’’ he said dryly, ‘‘I’m being serious, here. Or, well, trying to.’’
‘‘I’ve never known you to be serious.’’
‘‘There’s a first time for everything,’’ he snapped, ‘‘I can be serious sometimes, and damn it, now is one of those times. ’’
‘‘Alright, alright… fair enough.’’
His anger was alarming.
‘‘Well, I had a really, fucking freaky dream. Maybe it was the smack messing with my mind; maybe it’s just something I fear, subconsciously. I don’t know…’’
‘‘And what, may I ask, happened in this dream of yours?’’ Rebecca mused.
He sat up normally, and rested his back against the nearest tree. He sighed a bit, and it looked vaguely like he was contemplating whether he should tell anyone, let alone her.
‘‘Um… well, okay. I dreamt that someone was trying to fuck me over. I didn’t get a good look at who it was. At various times during the dream, they would give me these really huge dosages of heroin, and it would make me go into comas. And although I kept waking up, they kept trying over, and over, and over…’’
A look of pain came over his face as he described it more deeply, going on to tell her strangley specific sequences; he almost resembled a wounded child. Rebecca had a nagging feeling that he might actually be in danger, but dismissed it almost immediately. How many people actually have forseen their deaths in dreams? Not many.
comment, comment, comment. i know it's really short, and for that i am sorry. and i know it stops at an extremely bad place, but ms word keeps screwing me over and i don't have time to wait for it. i'll try to go on with it tomorrow, when i get back from school, but can't promise much till no earlier than friday. i'm horrible, i know.
btw, how many of you actually want me to keep going with this?