I lay in bed looking down at my legs, half of them were sawn off under the knee, blood gushed out in a horrific crimson. Beside my bed was a dark figure, hiding in the ether of darkness that filled my room at night. No windows, no open doors to shed light, there was only the darkness and the figure hovering over me. He held a chainsaw in his hands which he had used to remove my legs. I felt my voice activated, it felt as though I was screaming louder than I ever thought possible but it was impossible to tell what was my voice and what was the metallic screeching of the chainsaw.
Earlier I was sitting calmly in my bed reading my newly acquired book, the terror I was experiencing now had me wondering if I was awake or if I was asleep in the middle of a terror caused by my book. The sounds were so clear and the pain was so real, I couldn’t be sleeping if my senses felt this reality so sharply.
The man moved the saw over to my upper body where he sliced through my arms, the cartilage joint crunching like paper. There was no sense of color but I could see the blood pumping out of me, spraying in both directions, painting the walls. The chain saw stopped and lowered. The man stood there over me like a conquering warrior, what had he conquered? Who was I to him and did I do anything to him? Before tonight I worked with children, I was an elementary teacher in the school down the road. The pain was excruciating and my life was dwindling away by the second, but the only thought that stuck in my mind was “Why is this man this way? What could he be feeling within him to cause me such pain so easily?”.
The night was silent and I felt the blood in me continue to run out, it seemed almost as if the blood was endless, it seemed almost as if it would never stop. No pain ceased, it seemed as though time was a concept which didn’t exist in this setting. It was as if everything happened at once at one point and then at another point it would seem as if everything happened at a microscopically slow period.
I closed my eyes, they hurt from the sight of my own mutilation, but when I opened them again the man began to light up a bit, I cloud clearly see the separation of him from the darkness now. He was wearing grungy brown clothes and a large white sock over his head. He motioned upward and then back, he grabbed the sock and pulled it off to reveal a beautiful, small head. It was my son of five years old, his blond hair was a mess and his dark blue eyes looked deep into mine. It was as if he thought he knew me but wasn’t sure, it was as if he was peering into my soul for my identity.
“Hi Mommy!” he said gleefully. He smiled ear to ear as he always did, but why was he smiling? Did he know he was doing this to me? Did I not teach him this was wrong? The chainsaw abruptly started once again and while continuing to smile, my son slowly guided the chainsaw onto my neck. My skin began to burn and then I could feel it being tugged away from the cords in my neck and finally it ripped away and became one with the chainsaws blades. I screamed in pain for as long as I could before the air from my lungs could no longer reach my diaphragm, inside of my mind I screamed on and on but they were in vein for they were not heard.
The light left my eyes and all I saw was darkness, “I can feel my arms! I can feel my legs!”, I yelled. I could yell? I could talk? And I could feel my limbs? The light re-entered my eyes, I opened them and looked around me. I had left the light on from earlier when reading, I could see that my legs and my arms were still in tact, I could see that there was no blood on the walls and I could see that there was no man hovering over my bed. I breathed an air of calm, it felt so good to breath normally. I was covered in sweat from the terror of my dream, it was too hot so I pulled off my covers and got up out of bed.
I walked out into the hallway, I carefully approached my sons room as if there was some truth to my dream, as if my son was a sick killer. It was actually quite comical now that I was awake, now that I could access my rational thinking. I opened the door quietly to my sons room and looked around. There was my son resting sweetly in his bed, he was such a calm, quiet young boy, even in his sleep. I looked at my sons clock and saw that it was 4AM, I would need to get up at 5, so I might as well get up now. I walked down stairs to get my morning coffee, but something just didn’t feel right. I went back up to my sons room as an instinct. I gazed in... he was fine, nothing to worry about but then I looked at the clock and it was 12:50AM. My heart jumped with surprise, had I seen the clock wrong or had it changed? Was it just a malfunction? How could I mistake 12:50 for 4AM?
I slowly left the room, maybe I just needed some coffee and my mind would wake up, it must have just been my half asleep mind. I came into the kitchen, got out the coffee and walked over to the fridge to get milk. Suddenly I looked into the living room and there lay 10 bloodied, limbless bodies scattered among 20 detached arms and 20 detached legs. Was I still dreaming? What if this was true? Maybe I should call the police, but what will they think of me if I do? I’m young, I can’t go to prison, I have a child to take care of. Wait.. what if my dream was more than a dream... what if I somehow knew something in my dream that I couldn’t see outside.
“Mommy! Mommy!” my son yelled hauntingly as he ran down the stairs, his voice echoing. “Mommy?” he said, this time directly behind me. “Hi Mommy”, the sound of a chainsaw rang out through the house and through my soul.