Remedy for a Dream

by Matt Cogar

  “Nothing but the strongest alcohol you have available.” “It's nearly one in the morning.”

  “I know. Just do it, okay?” I told him, as he finally poured the glass, and I began to drink.

  The man next to me finally opened his mouth. “Do I know you from someplace?”

  “'Fraid not.”

  “Hey! I get it. You're that author my wife likes. She's quite an avid reader of yours.”

  “Thanks...”

  “Yeah, almost every time I'm on the road, we have to pull over to the local book store just to see if you have any new books out!”

  “I guess I'm glad your wife likes my writing.”

  “Like it? I'd say she loves it if you ask me. I even caught myself picking up one of your books. I guess she kind of rubbed off on me, huh?”

  “Guess so.”

  “Are you going to continue writing anymore?” “No. I'm done writing.”

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  “Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “It's nothing. I just couldn't write anything anymore.” “You married?” He asked

  “Was.” I replied, mildly bothered by the question. “Aw, man. Did she dump you?”

  “She died.”

  “Oh, shit man, I'm sorry. Fuck I didn't mean anything by

  it.”

  “It's fine. None of your business, anyway.”

  “Look, I'm sorry. I gotta go. Talk to ya later, if I see you, alright?”

  “Bye,” I told him as he left the bar.

  I couldn't tell you how many drinks I had. But I knew I must've been there for a good few hours. Or at least that's what I would say.

  “We're closing,” the bartender told me.

  “I'm not going anywhere,” I replied defiantly. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Go fuck yourself. Do your job. You know what your job is?” I said to the bartender, who was still adamant that I left, “your job is to stand there, and look pretty. Pour some glasses here and there, but do your fucking job.”

  “Get out. Get out before I call the police.”

  I stood up, and pointed the revolver I still had at the bartender.

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  “Go to fucking hell!” I screamed.

  “Easy. Easy now,” the bartender said as he backed away. Behind the bar, he pulled out a double-barrel shotgun, and aimed it at me. “Now I said 'get out'! Do it! Or your drunk-ass skull will be in pieces all over the floor.”

  “You wanna shoot me?! Do you want to blow my fucking head off?! Do it! NOW!” I yelled.

  “Leave. I'm not going to ask you again,” said the Bartender. “Fuckin' coward,” I muttered as I left the bar.

  CHAPTER 9

  A C C I D E N T

  I made the foolish attempt at trying to drive while in the state I was in. The alcohol had distorted my vision and I was shaken enough as-is.

  Not only was it a battle with my own vision, but it was practically a war trying to say awake. I found myself collapsing in and out of sleep. Suddenly, a loud horn immediately woke me up as the lights of a large semi-truck shone in the distance. “Shit,” I muttered as I made a sharp turn. I crashed through the guardrail and almost flew into a tree. I barely managed to stop before colliding with the towering timber structure.

  I arrived at my house after having the car towed. I remember looking into the mirror and wondering is this me?

  The next day I awoke with a throbbing headache. I walked

  – to the best of my ability, mind you – to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and grabbed a bottle of Bayer's Aspirin. I had bought it the other day so it was practically full. I popped it open and took one, two, three, four...practically the whole bottle, as if it were some magical device that would clear my mind and make me forget.

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  As I walked back into the bedroom. I stared at the empty space beside where I slept. And then I saw...the photo...I practically broke down. It was a photo of...her...we looked so happy, she looked so happy. By now I hated myself. I didn't just regret what I'd done, I loathed what I'd done. I felt as if she would've lived on if it weren't for me, as if the doctor had been wrong. I picked up the picture. An immediate sense of longing, for her, and contempt for myself grew within me. I threw the framed photograph and watched as it crashed against the wall and the glass shattered.

  I had walked up a flight of stairs and to the roof of a rather tall skyscraper. I walked over to the ledge. As I looked down, I heard the ambient noise of the buzzing horns, and the humming of cars as they drove past.

  So full of life, I thought. And here I am, full of death. I took another step forward. My foot was practically hanging from the roof, when a voice spoke to me, “hey,” called someone from behind me. I turned to find janitor. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  No, you can't, nobody can, I thought, as I walked past him. It was as if he knew what I was about to do.

  CHAPTER 10

  H A N G I N G

  I bought some rope from the hardware store nearby. I was in my basement, as I looked at the rope I held in my hand.

  It will finally be over, I thought, as I tossed the rope over the beam above. I tied a noose, and stepped onto a chair. I put it around my neck, and made sure it was tight enough.

  I kicked away the chair, as I hanged myself. And then suddenly, the rope snapped. I fell to the ground.

  CHAPTER 11

  G R A V E

  The cemetery was cold, and deserting. There was an ominous mist that seemed to rise up from the earth below. I found myself wandering aimlessly through a seemingly empty field of decaying trees and dead grass.

  The stinging cold had felt like millions of needles all stabbing me constantly like I was Janet Leigh in Psycho. It was freezing.

  I then approached a lonely grave, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. And saw her name engraved on the seemingly untouched tombstone. I knelt in front of the stone sepulcher. I brushed my hand across the name...her name.

  Suddenly, I felt a hand reach out and grab the collar of my shirt. The arm it belonged to was rotten, and decaying. It's skin hanged from it's narrow bones, which found themselves covered in dried, coagulated blood, accompanied by the faint drapes of dark-colored, dried-out flesh. And then it emerged. It's hair caked with dried blood, it's jaw hanging partially from its decomposing mouth. A millipede stretched out from within an empty eye-socket.

  I immediately rose up, my heart almost skipping a beat as I frantically took a step back. It stood, as I saw the torn white garbs of a wedding gown hanging from it's decomposing breasts. It

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  walked closer and closer to me, as bits of white cloth hanged from it's arms and legs, it's faced covered by a gray-white veil. I could almost see it's spinal column from it's decaying abdomen.

  It seemed to decay with each passing moment, as maggots continuously ate at it's putrid flesh. Suddenly, it began to fall apart, like a mannequin. It's legs twisted and rotted off of the corpse they belonged to. It collapsed to the ground and continued crawling after me. I tried to run away but slipped on mud, falling to the ground. I tried to crawl away but it kept coming after me. There was not an aura of vengeance, rather, an atmosphere of tragic sadness that welled up within me from this thing. It reached out to me, and seemed to call out my name, but I didn't listen. I kicked it away, and it seemed to decay at an even faster rate. I leaped to my feet, and tried running away, but I just couldn't run fast enough.

  It continued to crawl after me, it's loud screeches emanating through the deadly night air.

  CHAPTER 12

  S U I C I D E

  I awoke on the basement floor. I sat up, contemplating the dream I had just witnessed. It felt so real, I thought. Too real. I looked at the torn rope that hanged from above. I felt a wave of sudden anger come over me. Why won't He just let me die, already, I thought.

  I sat slumped in a couch in the living room. I remember the promise I made her...and then I pulled out the revolver. In my other hand I held a photograp
h. It was of our wedding day. I sobbed as I remembered that fateful day. The day my soul died. The day it happened. Today was the four-year anniversary.

  I meditated about that day as I flicked my gun, revealing the cylinder. One bullet left. I flicked the cylinder back into place. I pressed the dark, cold metal to the side of my head, staring into her eyes. “We will be together soon,” I said to myself as I began to pull the trigger. I slowly compressed the cold, dark lever of the revolver, until – click. Nothing happened. The bullet did not fire.

  “Dammit!” I screamed as I through the gun against the opposite wall. I collapsed, shattering into tears. “Why!...why...” I pleaded. I grasped the photograph as tears rolled down my face. “I miss you!” I said, barely able to speak and choking in my sadness.

  CHAPTER 13

  P R E C I P I C E

  That night I went out for a drive. I couldn't tell you how far I drove. The street was almost completely dormant. I came to a split path in the road. The one to the left seemed dark, and mysterious. I took a right, as a storm broke the silence of the night.

  I came to a ledge overlooking a lake. I stopped, stepping out of my car. I walked over to the edge, and looked below at the raging current, crashing, smashing against the sharp rocks down below. The rocks seemed as if they would impale me. And then I heard it. A ghastly groan, seemingly of the dead. I turned around but witnessed nothing. “What the hell,” I said to myself, my thoughts became disturbed, leaving me confused.

  And then, the cliff gave way, and I fell onto the rocks. Despite the drop, I didn't die. I looked above as the white moon gave birth to a blood red light. I found myself taken over by the ominous glow of it's radiant lantern.

  CHAPTER 14

  R I V E R S T Y X

  I found myself in a wooden boat slowly floating across a dead, misty sea. Dead branches and decaying trees swayed and hanged over the silent, fatally calm river. A lantern was in front of me. It seemed old, yet new at the same time. No candle, nor any bulb caused it to glow...yet it did.

  Suddenly, an arm reached out, grabbing hold of me, bits of flesh dangling from it's skeleton-like arm. A decade old decaying skeleton reached out to me. It was as if in life it was never able to find a way out. “Help me...” it pleaded. I kicked it away, as it vanished into the depths, leaving behind a pool of blood that transformed the entire river.

  I watched as countless cadavers emerged from the blood-filled waters. Each of them seemed terrifyingly real – the kind of thing that would make even the toughest man quiver.

  Gazing out at the field of death and decay, it occurred to me that everyone must've killed each other. At least it seemed that way.

  Ahead – the shoreline. So close, I thought, as the corpses suddenly began tugging at the boat, trying to pull it down into the depths below. I began kicking the bodies away, until one grabbed my ankle, and I fell. It tried to pull me into the murky depths

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  below, and no matter how hard I tried, I seemingly could not kick it off. Somehow, I managed to shove it away as it fell back into the depths.

  As I reached the shoreline, the blood vanished, collapsing once again into the dark depths below.

  CHAPTER 15

  M O O N L I G H T

  I walked past the shoreline and into the fog-ridden treeline. The forest seemed dead. There was virtually no life to it, it seemed.

  I treaded through the decaying forest, as dead leaves and sticks crinkled and cracked beneath my feet. And then suddenly, a howl. I turned around, and saw nothing. Then I turned to look over my shoulder, and there was, slumped against the side of a tree, a wolf. A cub, no doubt. Blood leaked from where it's chest cavity had been. It wasn't the one howling, however. I witnessed another, much larger wolf step out from within the fog, like a guard-dog of hell. It barks at the cub, and the cub whimpered back, barely even alive, it's heart beating out of it's open chest. The bigger wolf leaped at it, attacking the small cub. I turned away, as the disgusting, wretched, grizzly, and horrific noise of bone and flesh collapsing under skeleton-crushing jaws and muscle-tearing fangs.

  I turned back to see the bigger wolf gone, and the smaller cub practically torn to shreds at the hands of some monster.

  I exited the forest and entered a long, dormant road. I looked behind me to discover a mess of cars, crashed together. It

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  seemed as if their owners had left them in a frantic hurry to get away from something.

  The road was almost endless, it seemed. It was as if the entire world had died. Not a single voice echoed but the sound of my footsteps treading this long, dark road, alone. I shuttered as a murder of crows flew past, bringing with them a sharp, cold breeze, as a massive dark cloud floated in the sky above, almost symbolic of what was to come.

  I came to a bridge, it's architecture seemingly from the 1960s or 1970s. As I walked across, I began to notice how old and rusted the beams were as the wood creaked beneath my feet. It felt as if it were going to collapse entirely at any moment. It's a miracle this thing is even standing, I thought to myself.

  I stopped as I reached the end of the bridge. Looking over my shoulder, I felt the presence of someone. Someone or something was watching me, their sight shattering the essence of my reality. But there was nothing.

  As I exited the bridge and stepped onto yet another vacant road, I walked past a sign, which read Welcome to Midnight Falls. The sign seemed old, and aged. It appeared to have been carried away from it's original location by a massive storm.

  I discovered myself walking on a winding mountain road. The old, decaying guardrail seemed like it would do little to prevent my fall.

  CHAPTER 16

  T H E S L A Y E R

  I finally managed to reach ground level. I saw lights in the distance, and began to approach them. Suddenly, two large wolves emerged. They looked demonically grotesque, without eyes, and with blood pouring from their fangs. They were hell incarnate, I thought.

  A young man ran past, trying to escape something. Suddenly, I watched as the beasts savagely attacked him. The man pleaded, cried, screamed for help, but no one was around to do so. The hellish hounds began feasting on the man. Suddenly, a whimper, and they ran off, scared away by something.

  A large, shadowy man stepped out from the night. It was tall, presumably seven or even eight feet. I couldn't help but feel intimidated...not the kind of surface anxiety that one might get upon meeting a thug or mugger, rather it was something much, much deeper. It was sinister...it was primal.

  The figure was cloaked by a large, thick dark robe, and imprisoned by countless chains. It was a slayer of man. It carried with it a large medieval battle axe, sustained by the blood of countless victims.

  “No! Not you! Please...not me,” the man cried, as he crawled away from the monster. The man screamed for mercy.

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  Begged for forgiveness...but there was none, for his sin was too great, it seemed. The slayer approached the man slowly, patiently. It was in no hurry. If the grim reaper were real, this was surely it. The man tried to stand but was quickly slashed down by the monster. The man reached a blood-soaked hand up to me. “Help...me...” he pleaded, but it was too late, as the slayer raised it's axe, and practically cut the man in half.