chapter 22 in my dreams

"**Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you.**" - Marsha Norman.

My heart raced, an effect that lingered even after the moment had passed. I couldn't help but smile as I closed my eyes, attempting to shake off the flurry of unsettling thoughts. Once again, I found myself in the castle, its ancient architecture casting an eerie atmosphere that seemed to span centuries.

A collection of peculiar animal-like statues caught my attention. Determinedly, I entered through an open door, my courage surprisingly intact. I became aware that I was within a dream, wishing I could uncover the significance behind these recurring visions. As I ventured through a series of doors, I eventually encountered the familiar darkness of the room. It was the same one from my previous dreams.

This time, however, my trepidation was replaced by curiosity. I sensed the presence of another, a man in unconventional attire, seated and groaning in apparent pain. The room was shrouded in an eerie coldness, setting an unsettling ambiance. Suddenly, I recognized the danger around me as the man's wounded appearance gave way to a strange aura. Just as fear took over, someone grabbed me, a masked figure warning me not to proceed.

"Don't go," the masked man cautioned urgently.

I challenged him, my voice quivering, "Who are you?"

"Please, don't go," he repeated, his plea underscored by a sense of urgency.

"Who are you? Don't drive me mad!" I retorted, my voice escalating. Suddenly, the man with the eerie aura launched an attack.

"No!!!" My terrified scream roused me from sleep, my body drenched in sweat. I had been jolted awake, my heart pounding with fear. In my panic, I hadn't even realized Mr. Lucas was there.

"What happened?" His voice dripped with concern.

"No, no!" I continued to shout, caught in the grip of a terror I couldn't escape. The intrusion of his presence unsettled me further.

"What's wrong?" He approached, his touch gentle as he attempted to calm me, his hand patting my head.

"Please, leave! How did you get in here?" My voice was an odd mixture of disbelief and fear.

"I believe I locked the door," he began to explain, but I cut him off abruptly.

"Get out!!!" My shout resonated with a mixture of dread and urgency. Trembling, I stared at him, silently begging him to leave my room. He turned his back, retreating, perhaps sensing my overwhelming distress. As he exited, my breath finally started to steady, though I still grappled with the aftermath of the dream.

The fear continued to linger, making the prospect of sleep daunting. The morning sun rose all too quickly, catching me off guard as I found myself drifting back into an uneasy slumber.