Dream into the Abyss – wordpress weekly writing challenge

It’s time for the WordPress weekly writing challenge again – okay, I’m cutting it a bit fine this week! 🙂 But better late than never hey.

This week it’s all about inspirational images and another word count (I hate them!) of 1000 words. There was a selection of pictures to choose from and I opted for this one:


Dream into the Abyss

‘I had that dream again.’

I hear the rustling of paper as the therapist looks through my notes.

‘Hhhmm, I see you have mentioned dreaming about this place before. I think some guided hypnosis might be good. How would you feel about that?’ she asks.

‘Okay. If you think it might help.’

She makes her way over to the side of the couch, where I am reclined. She lifts her glasses from her eyes and places them on her head, pushing her dirty blonde locks away from her face. Her slim lips form a smile, showing off the early signs of wrinkles, which are beginning to form around her tired looking eyes.

‘I am going to ask you to close your eyes and start to count backwards from 300 in your head. You can begin,’ she instructs me.

I do as she bids. 300, 299, 298, 297 ….. She starts to speak to me, her tone much softer now, lulling me into complete relaxation. Before long I am in a trance like state. Fully aware of my surroundings, but floating in a sea of calmness. My subconscious is awakened and her voice speaks to me on a new level.

‘I am going to guide you … just listen to my instructions. Can you tell me where you are? The place you keep coming back to in your dreams?’

‘It is dark. I am all alone, in a big empty space. A room – all brick walls and concrete floors. It feels cold. There is a series of arches in front of me. I can’t see where they end though. It’s too dark.’

‘Can you hear anything?’

I listen carefully, searching with my ears for some sound. ‘I think I hear something, but it sounds far away. I’m not sure what it is, it’s almost like a whimper.’

‘Can you walk towards the noise?’

I feel uneasy, unsure of what to do. It is so dark ahead and I am afraid of what I might find. I realise I am clutching a bag.  My fingers grip the handle tightly, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. I feel the warm, wet feeling of blood on my finger-tips. I realise what I am doing and loosen my grip a little. I take a deep breath, trying to breathe the fear out of my body. I start to walk slowly towards the direction of the sound. A cold breeze whistles past my neck and I shiver. My hairs bristle as I realise the sound is getting closer. It is eerily familiar. I step further into the darkness, my eyes straining to make out the shapes in front of me. I reach out with my hands to steady myself and feel the ground with my feet before every precarious step. The noise is clearer now. ‘It sounds like someone crying.’

‘I can see something,’ I say.

‘Can you tell me what it is?’

‘I think it’s a light.’

My curiosity is peaked, thwarting away some of the trepidation I was feeling. Damn you curiosity. I keep moving towards the light. The flickers bounce off of the walls, illuminating the darkness around me. I am right upon it now. I realise the light is coming from behind one of the arches. I try to keep calm. This is it. I step around the corner.

‘What do you see?’

‘It’s a child.’

Sitting in the corner of the room, clutching a candle close to him, is a young boy. The light shines on his face, his eyes are large and pleading. Tears streak his cheeks and small sobs emanate from the back of his throat. I stare into the abyss of his eyes and realise I am looking right at myself. ‘The bag,’ he says. ‘Give me the bag of dreams.’

I jolt awake with a start. The therapist is standing over me, calmly speaking to me.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, fine.’

‘Shall we talk about the child? Is it you?’

‘How did you know?’

‘It is a common analogy for the brain to make. A sign that your inner child is trapped, that there are things you feel you have failed to do.’

‘The darkness?’ I ask.

‘Your empty soul.’

‘What about the bag of dreams?’

‘A sign of unfulfillment. A need to go back and revisit the hopes and dreams you want to achieve in life before it is too late.’

‘But why have I just started having this dream now?’

‘Perhaps, you need to act soon. Perhaps, it is nearly too late.’

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