Weeks ago, I was plagued by a dream. I was stabbed through the heart by a woman and the same scene repeated itself over and over again like a broken record. Every night after that I would awaken at the same time every night at 4 am with sweat beading down my forehead and my heart pounding endlessly in my chest. Every time I woke up I would try so hard to conjure up the images and details of the dream that night, but I could never make out the woman's face. I could only see the blurred outlines of her body and the light reflecting off the carving knife in her hand. I could never forget the pain; the pain I felt as the knife cut into my skin and pierced my heart as I laid on the cold floor waiting for my heart to stop. It seemed that with each repeat of the dream the pain became more and more intense up to the point where I could still feel the numbing pain in my chest when I woke up.
Believe me when I say I have tried to go to a therapist and tried to lessen the stress in my work and life and even tried to do yoga and meditate. The therapist said that dreams are related to problems in our lives so I must have something that's bothering me about death. I didn't understand a thing she told me; that's the thing with shrinks all they do is eat up your money and never provide you with real advice. What was the use of all of this? Everything I tried proved to be of no avail and everything just kept on getting worse. To live just one normal day was like asking Adam and Eve to not eat fruit from the forbidden tree. It was impossible. Everything I tried didn't work. WHY? WHY ME? It just didn't make sense to have my life ruined by one stupid god damned dream!
I've had it! I've really had it! I have to do something about it! The 'last' night I fell asleep, the dream came to me again. The same scenes repeated themselves over and over again until one last time. This last scene felt more lucid than all the others I've had in the past few weeks. I was more aware of my surroundings and this particular scene took place in my very own kitchen. The woman was there again, she drew the carving knife out of its wooden block and turned around. She took one swift move and lodged the knife in my heart again. The pain was agonizing, I could not breathe and the blood just kept pooling. I should have waken up by now. Why wasn't I awake? I willed myself to wake up from this horrifying dream, but I didn't. All that happened was my vision blurring and my ears ringing. As my heart started to slow, I kept thinking why this dream didn't stop. I tried to conjure up the details of my dream again and this time I could see the woman's face.
She was me. She killed me. I was the one holding the knife. I killed myself.
Hope you enjoyed another one of my short stories! This one was kind of a physiologically confusing one that I thought of one night, but I have to say that the delivery and execution wasn't the greatest. Also the ending isn't exactly the best, but I would still like to publish it regardless. So enjoy and leave any constructive criticism you may have below. Thank You
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