Face It

by K. Weikel

  I wake up from the same dream. Everything was just as it’s always been… everything except the fact that she had already been on the ground when she appeared. Everything else happened the way it’s always happened… The same hooded girl, the same bow, the same smile, and the same arrow flying towards me. It didn’t break the skin in my shoulder though. That’s another new thing, I guess. Is there a reason for it? People say that dreams are just a reflection of our subconscious and what we really think and want to do, but why would I want to be shot in the shoulder with an arrow?

  Maybe I’m just over-thinking it.

  It’s two in the morning and I’m wide awake now. There aren’t any messages on my phone, which needs to be charged. It’s on nineteen percent.

  I unlock it, the apps settling themselves onto the screen.

  My brain keeps wandering back to the dream, making fear bleed into my system. I tap on the first game I see to get my mind off of it, and it seems to work, until my phone dies, the little circle loading thing indicating it’s shutting down.

  I look over at the clock. It’s two-fifteen.

  So much for trying to forget the dream.

  Suddenly, I get this gut feeling, like someone is watching me. I look around the room, but, of course, no one is looming over me. My eyes play tricks on me in the darkness, and I think I see someone, but I know it’s my imagination. I look away from the blackness of my room and turn on the light beside my bed, sitting up. My back is against the rough wall as I look around the room again. Still nothing. I don’t know why I feel this way. It’s stupid.

  But I can’t shake the feeling.

  I don’t know how long I sit on my bed like that, listening to myself breathe and reassuring that there’s nothing else in there with me. That there’s no one else in here with me.

  I have the sudden idea to plug my phone in. I have to walk all the way across my room because my mom’s afraid of my brain getting fried by radiation at night. Whatever.

  I plug it in and stand by it, waiting for it to turn on, though I know it won’t until it’s at about five percent. So I stand waiting for it, my back to the wall because the feeling has turned into tingling. It runs through my body and makes my eyes search the room that I’ve been staring at since I woke up. Something just doesn’t feel right about the atmosphere of my room.

  Maybe it’s that I can’t breathe so well.

  I focus on my breathing and close my eyes briefly, telling myself that there’s nothing wrong and that I’m not being watched. It doesn’t work.

  I hear the vibration of my phone as it turns on, the black version of the apple logo flashing onto the bright white screen. I really want to text Charlie but… but he won’t care about what’s going on. And if I text Alex, the guilt will just get to me.

  I remember the first time I started having the dream. It was the night I got baptized for the first time. I didn’t understand it, I still don’t for that matter, but I felt like it was just another dream. And then it happened again and again and again, and I didn’t know what to do.

  At first, when I told Charlie about the dreams, he seemed really concerned. And then as we progressed in our relationship, he started to get weary of it, and would write it off as just a dream. Even though I know that’s all they are, I still wish he would comfort me. He’s not the one that has to deal with it every night, so he doesn’t understand. I guess no one really understands, no matter how hard they try to.

  I watch as the lock screen appears on my phone, Charlie’s smiling face staring back at me. He’s so perfect…

  It’s three o’clock now, and tomorrow is Thursday. Or, well, today is Thursday, technically. Today is when my parents leave.

  I feel my eyelids getting heavier as I stand there, looking at my phone. Six percent. Just another hour or so and it’ll be up to about sixty-six percent. That’s what I love about iPhones. They charge so quickly. Quicker than an Android anyway…

  I decide to go lay down again, the tingling starting to go away.

  The bed is warm and comfortable and inviting, though I have a light practically in my face. I don’t want to turn it off, but I have to if I want a good-night’s sleep.

  Deciding I’m not going to turn it off yet, I turn my back to it and face the wall. The tingling returns and I can’t close my eyes. I get the feeling of being watched again. I turn back over, and swear I saw someone standing at the side of my bed, but I know no one’s there.

  I decide to leave the lamp on.