The Dreamer
Then I wake up in a cold sweat.
“Shit, what a nightmare,” I said out loud to no one. I’ve got to stop eating pizza before bed. Maybe a nice salad or glass of warm milk. These nightmares are driving me insane.
I’ve had nightmares for as long as I can remember, even on nights I didn’t eat before bed. The one had two nights ago was the worst. I was walking through a desert, hot as hell, and a snake appeared in front of me. Naturally I tried to walk around it, but no matter where I walked it remained in front of me, fangs exposed, ready to strike. I noticed it’s belly about halfway down its body was bulged, bloated. Obviously it had just eaten something. When I took the my next step to move around it, its belly exploded. Snake-matter splattered all over me. When I noticed a bloody finger on my shirt sleeve, I screamed. I noticed the finger had a diamond ring on it. I was reaching for it when I woke up.
I’m trying to figure out a pattern in these dreams, but so far its all a mystery. Snakes, bears, blood.