[ WP ] Dreams have all been tests , and someone finally passed .

I just found this sub two days ago. Here's my first go, and I hope you enjoy it. It may be a bit different from the rest. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 I ’ ve had nightmares for as long as I can possibly remember. I don ’ t want to remember though, and for this reason I never look back. I don ’ t want to sleep. I ’ m too scared to drift away into the terror filled void that consumes me every time the lights go out. I am not afraid of the dark, but I am afraid of what sleep brings. 
 
 Over the years I ’ ve had my ups and downs. Therapy never helped. I am a 30-year-old man with a great job, a large property in the woods, and plenty of toys to occupy my time. I used to read, write, and play music, but I ’ m always tired, and one can not feign the inspiration that comes from energetic thought. I used to enjoy my waking life, but I am scarred to death to fall asleep and this has created many problems. I also used to enjoy food. Fruit was my favorite. I loved the sweetness of a fresh Valencia orange in the morning, but the fear took the pleasure out of eating, so eventually I stopped. I used to enjoy many things, but I guess you could say that I am now too paranoid to enjoy anything. The constant feeling of being followed now consumes my consciousness, but I ’ m too scared to look back. I never look back. 
 
 You can ’ t imagine the atrocities that I ’ ve seen and heard, only to be jarred awake like a sleeping innocent who ’ s just been hit by a Taser at close range. When I awaken in a pool of cold sweat I don ’ t even move. I ’ m too scared to move. I just lay there, shivering, thinking about what I ’ ve seen moments prior. Thinking about the terror that sleep brings every time I drift off, even for a mere second or two. 
 
 For these reasons and many more that I don ’ t care to outline, I have become quite lethargic. I never exert myself because I ’ m afraid that if I get too tired I will drift away into another hellish nightmare. After all these years and countless sleep deprived nights, I have had trouble distinguishing the dream world from the real world. I find that it ’ s best just not to leave my property. I have everything I need here and I live off the land, with minor help of course. Thankfully the grounds men know to keep their distance when they are here. They know little about me, but I guess that since the beginning of our arrangement they could see the hopeless fear in my face. My eyes are a dead giveaway. They know they will be generously rewarded if they leave me with my solitude. 
 
 Last week, I anxiously peeked from my perch in a window on the second floor of my house. I peeled back the blinds just enough to make sure Marty and David were there on schedule to tend to my land. That ’ s when it happened. As David walked back to his truck to grab supplies, a wolf darted out of the woods and bit visciously onto Marty ’ s leg. As he thrashed back and forth I could hear Marty screaming frantically for help. In an instant I panicked. This couldn ’ t be a dream could it? Was this really happening? I poured the cold cup of water I was drinking on my head only to realize that I was not going to wake up. This was real and I had to help. 
 
 I grabbed my rifle and darted down the staircase faster than I ’ ve ever traversed it. Before I knew it I was outside staring at the bloody scene unfolding 15 feet away. David was running with a shovel as I took aim. My rifle cracked and the wolf dropped. Then, David pulled Marty to safety. Without thinking I started my truck and screamed, “ GET IN! ” David somehow managed to get Marty into the back seat, and together we rushed him 10 miles into town to the nearest hospital. Once we arrived Marty was immediately rushed into surgery and the doctors left David and I to wait. 
 
 As we waited I started to feel tired. I was so frazzled from what had happened that I never thought I would have fallen asleep, but somehow I did. I slipped away into the dark unknown that I spent every waking hour of my life trying to avoid. 
 
 I was in the woods. As I sat up, brushing the cool damp leaves off of my rear end, I heard a noise. It sounded as if someone had taken a single step in my direction, splitting a fallen tree branch as they placed their foot down. I panicked. I had lived this before. As I felt the terror consume me I heard the familiar echo of what I could only describe as ominous cackling laughter. The game was on again. In an instant, I started running. To where, or what from, I didn ’ t know. All I knew is that if I were caught, unspeakable things would happen. I ’ ve seen them happen before. I ran and ran until I could no longer move my frail and weary legs. I was so tired of running, but mostly I was tired of the fear. 
 
 I found a hiding spot underneath a fallen log and stared into the darkness as I panted. Then in a fleeting moment of strength I made my choice. I was going to fight for the first time in my life. Images of hungry wolves filled my mind as stood up and looked back to see what was chasing me. All I saw though, was darkness. 
 
 I drew in a deep and heavy breath and screamed as loudly as I could, “ I ’ m done running! I have been consumed by fear too long! Show yourself and I will end you once and for all! SHOW YOURSELF! ” 
 
 Then, to my surprise, a voice boomed through the forest and said, “ So it shall be. ” It was then that the darkness lifted and in the distance I could see a door. 
 
 I walked through the trees toward the door and felt an unfamiliar weight tugging from around my neck. I then reached up and found a key hanging from a chain, like a locket from a lost lover. When I got to the door I removed the key and opened it. I was suddenly engulfed in a warm light brighter than any I had ever seen. As I passed through the doorway into the light, I breathed the sweet zesty scent of orange peels, something I had long since forgotten the joy of tasting. The last thing I remember thinking was, “ Thank you… ” 
 
 I awoke, dry as an August night, in the ER waiting room with David at my side. Then I did something completely unlike myself. I smiled. While Marty rested in the recovery wing, I walked to the cafeteria and savored the sweet juices the first orange i could find. Aloud to myself I whispered, “ Thank you. ” 

