Sunday, Aug. 22, 2004 - 20:09

In the dream, I awoke to find myself on my bed. Simon was sitting on top of me, leaning forward with an intent expression on his face.

“Jay…? Jay…? You awake…?”

I drifted off to sleep, it seems; when I woke again, I knew something was very, very wrong. At first I thought I was laying on a cold floor, yet gravity seemed to be pulling at my body in a peculiar fashion; I soon realised I was pinned to the wall above the head of my bed.

I became aware of shocking, excruciating pain in my wrists, shoulders and feet. I felt dazed, confused… as if having woken suddenly from a drug-induced slumber, and as my vision cleared, I found Simon standing on my bed, directly in front of me. He held a large hammer in one hand, flecked with blood, and small droplets of blood adorned his face and shirt.

I looked to my right side and realised the source of my pain. He had taken large iron spikes – similar to those to be found on railway tracks – and nailed me to the wall, driving the spikes through my wrists, shoulders and my feet.

I looked back at him. The large hammer was gone. Now he held a piece of clear plastic in one hand and a tube of super-glue in the other. He had removed the cap from the super-glue and was smearing the sticky fluid all over one side of the piece of plastic.

“You’ll be better off,” he said matter-of-factly, while I struggled in vain to wrench myself off the wall.

“Please… please don’t do this,” I whispered hoarsely.

He didn’t respond. Instead he tossed the spent tube of glue aside and approached me with the piece of clear plastic. He placed it over my face, the glue bonding almost instantly to my skin. I panicked and tried to scream, though unable to drawn in much breath, and what air I swallowed ‘tasted’ foul with the fumes from the glue. My vision distorted by the plastic, I saw Simon step back on the bed, appearing to admire his handiwork, while I struggled and writhed on the wall, unable to breathe…

… At which point, I woke up.

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