FOGGY DREAMS

Foggy dreams and Hothouse foreboding fog.

 All I saw was fog. But then, that's how it always began. 

With fog. 

The heavy fog made the air thick and harder to breathe. It's surrounded me in a suffocating cocoon. 

This was my idea of hell.

A blinding white light flashed through the fog. Panic overwhelming my senses, I turned around, frantically searching for a way out, the feeling of gritty sand beneath my feet.

And then another blinding flash. Something was moving through the fog; I could feel the change in the air surrounding me.

"Kathy…" a man's voice whispered. 

I could detect a little bit of a different kind of accent in his voice, though it was barely noticeable. I felt a chill run down my spine at the eerie, haunting sound. 

"Kathy…" 

I began turning every which way, looking for the source of the voice. 

"Kathy…" 

I could see a dark figure pushing through the fog- a man, walking towards me. 

God, why couldn't I open my mouth to scream for help? Why couldn't I scream? "Kathy…'' 

I could make out his dark hair, his lean figure, and his substantial height... but I could not see his eyes. Oh, those eyes... I remember those eyes. 

I opened my mouth and tried to cry out but my voice was gone. 

"Kathy…" 

He was getting closer. My heart was racing in my chest as I tried to think of a way to escape. He was nearly in front of me now. I looked up and let out a silent scream of terror at what I saw; his eyes were white in colour and opalescent, but they seemed to hold the pain of ages long past and burdens too great for any one man to bear. They seemed to call me- no, beg me for something, but I could not understand what.

I screamed once more, but there was still no sound. I broke out into a run but I could hear his voice call out to me through the fog.

" Kathy... Kathy... Kathy…"

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I shot up in bed, perspiration beading all over my body. I blindly felt my screaming alarm clock, slamming my hand down on the off button harder than was necessary. I ran my hands over my eyes wearily trying to shake the feelings of helplessness and confusion brought on by the dream.

The dreams had gotten worse since my family had moved to the small main town of England called Bramshott. I didn't know if it was the stress that made them worse or the increasing dread of my first day of school. But whatever was causing them they had to stop. I didn't know how much more of it I could take before I wound up in the Loony bin.

I had been having these dreams for years but only of late had they become frightening. Before there had only been the fog and sand and that ominous voice with the hand of a different accent. But now a face came with that pleading voice.

It was his eyes that I found the most frightening. White and opalescent, but filled with so much pain and longing. They unnerved me to my very soul. This mysterious dream man made me feel like he wanted something from me, but I couldn't understand what and he seemed familiar, so familiar with his black hair and opalescent eyes, but I knew that I had never seen him before. I should have remembered him; there was no doubt of that in my mind.

I slammed my hand down on the bed with the grunt of frustration, Why can't I figure out who the hell he is? I thought angrily. This was the fifth time I had dreamt of him in the last month and I couldn't bear not knowing who he was to my weary, befuddled mind. I looked at my alarm clock, it read 5:15 AM. I don't have time for my run this morning. I had wasted too much time on my 'Phantom of Dreams' as I'd dubbed him. It was better than the 'ghost of Opera' like from Phantom of the Opera. Who came up with that anyway? I sighed as I got up and gathered my running clothes, walking around and in between the cardboard boxes as well as I could, a chill ran down my spine when my bare feet met the cold floors. The boxes had been in my attic since we moved here and that was three weeks ago. Our new house has plenty of rooms downstairs , but my dear loving parents wanted me to live here, so that my existence don't hurt their eyes. I glanced at my old typewriter that I bought from my savings. My parents are too cheap to buy a laptop, even the smaller or cheaper models. They can afford Expensive cars, watches or clothes, but they couldn't afford a small laptop for my school work. I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts and got ready for my daily run before my first day at Northview High School.

Okay