Screaming myself awake had become a once a month norm. Ever since I was three I had a dream of how I would die. As I got older the man of my dreams didn’t scare me as much. He was my once a month visitor that only I could see. He kept his identity a mystery which I was calmly ok with. Why would I want to know who murders me?
As I got older I went through school, dances, boyfriends, and graduation. The dreams kept occurring but never gave any information of my age, the location, or his identity. I started my first job at a local library. That month I didn’t have a dream. After three months of working there, I met a young man that took me to all these different places where we would enjoy food, movies, dancing, comedy, music, or just each other. I felt alive and never thought of the man of my dreams.
The young man took me home one night after a poetry reading, we kissed goodnight, nothing new. That night the man of my dreams visited me. He had the same features as the young man I was dating but faceless. This time he didn’t kill me right away. In my dream, we were in the stacks at my library. He hands me this book where his voiceless words appeared on the page. That’s when he took the book from me and started bashing me in the head until I woke up. Screaming.
I went to work the following morning not giving another thought to the dream until I had to file the books back in their stacks. In my hands was the blood red book from my dreams. I opened it up to find my handwriting. I was confused as I read in my penmanship, ‘The man in your dreams will not visit you anymore but will see you on the other side if you do not fight for your life. The man you’ve been seeing is the soulmate that you never got to meet. You can choose to die and be with him now or you can fight and meet him after you lived a long life. In the back of this book is a letter opener. If you want to live, take it and turn around right now and place it in your killers head. I was shaking as I unsheathed the blade.’
I thought, ‘Is this for real? Can this really be happening?’ I heard the sound of someone breathing behind me when without thinking I turned and placed the blade in the throat of my attacker. His wide eyes looking both surprised and furious. After the police came and time passed I did what any librarian would do. I did some research. The man I killed was a person of interest in the murder of the man in my dreams. He was kidnapped and taken to a field where he fought and lost the battle for his life. The night I killed my murderer he had rope, a knife, and gloves. I’m sure he would have taken the book from me and killed me just like in my dreams.
The title of the book that I haven’t read yet, ‘Unspoken’. I still don’t know how my handwritten warning was in this book. Was it me? Was it him? I wish I still had the dreams just to learn more about the man and the killer but now I only sleep through the night.
Tried something new with this and even though I had several different endings this one only felt right. I think if I work on this a bit more it could be a longer-short story. Do you have a faceless person in your dreams? What do you think they are trying to tell you?