Asleep

He finally awakes from his slumber. The Sun shines through the window, stinging his eyes. He groans in anger. His hand moves to the right side of the bed to pick up his alarm clock. It returns with nothing. He groans again. With squinting eyes, he scans the undecorated white walls of the room, in search of a clock. He doesn’t find one. He groans even louder.

He sits up on his bed. It creaks. He grasps the metal sides of the bed. They freeze, he shivers. His hands move to where his blanket should be, but they find nothing. His eyes adjust. The walls are stark white. He could’ve sworn they were blue yesterday. He looks around once more. The room is tiny, and he knew it wasn’t before. He realises this isn't his room.

Panic ensues. He springs out of bed, sweat dripping everywhere from his freezing body. He needs to get out of here. He searches the room, no door. His only other option is to jump out the window. He goes to his bed to find the window. No window. “This is a nightmare,” he croaks, “must be,” he ascertains himself. He decides to go back to bed. He returns to the bed, laying down on the bare metal frame. It burns. He pushes away the thick blanket covering him.

Sweat stains cover the mattress he slept on. The window fills the room with light, he can tell the time of day hasn't changed. He has to leave this room. He slams his body against the door, to no avail. He pushes, and kicks at it. He slides down against it and shivers. So cold. He moves to the window and shuts away the furious wind blasting in the room. “When’s this gonna end?” He asks himself, “I got assignments to finish before school starts.” “Soon, it has to.” he replies.

He sits on the side of the bed, cooling himself off by touching the metal bed frame. He takes off his shirt and wrings out the sweat. He counts the seconds. Eventually losing count as he drifts off into a deep sleep. He wakes up abruptly from a nightmare within a nightmare and starts counting again. He goes through this cycle again and again, as if he were hopping back and forth between living to dead.

He wakes up once more and hits his head on the top bunk bed. Finally, it’s over.

“Living feels good,” he thinks to himself. He relishes in the feeling. Interesting dream he had, he might write it down for his English assignment. He looks to his right and left. Pitch black. Black and bleak. So dark he thought he could feel it. He moves his hands in each direction and feels it. “I’m hallucinating,” he assures himself. It’s still dark, he has more time to rest. He hopes this time is less disturbing.

He rests.

“And now, he rests. Peacefully, I hope.” The funeral conductor speaks in a low soothing voice so convincing. He was sure his best friend, now six feet under, was sleeping undisturbed.