He bolted upright, gasping. He looked around his bedroom, frantic, the creature still in his mind, the pain, the vile voice. He kicked off the covers and jumped out of the bed, looking back at it as if the bed were the cause of his memories from the night before. The bed looked innocent enough, with its sheets and blanket lying there, doing nothing. The sun was shining beyond the closed blinds, lighting the room in muted stripes of dawn's rising sun. He grabbed his robe from a hook on the outside of his bathroom door and left the bedroom in a rush. That was the worst dream he had ever had experienced, and whatever it was that caused that, whether it was the emotional turmoil, the sketchy frozen dinner, or the especially poor choice of a six pack of convenience store donuts, he was avoiding the whole thing starting immediately.
He was done with trusting people. He always gave everything, and asked for very little in return. Maybe that's why this kept happening to him. He felt driven to never allow himself a chance for heartbreak ever again. He reminded himself that he said that before any of this happened, and this is what happens when you break your own self-imposed vows.
"You let people in, they will hurt you," he said out loud to the empty room. He shuddered and tightened the knotted belt on his robe. He looked walked into the kitchen and made himself a single cup of coffee. He had been trying to drink it black because he had been reading about intermittent fasting, but this morning was not the time for that nonsense. He dumped a large helping of cream and a couple shots of some salted caramel syrup he bought last week. He shook the mug in little circular patterns as the coffee maker noisily spit out the steaming coffee into his cream and syrup. Saved him a spoon that didn't need to be washed by doing that he reminded himself.
When it was done, he unnecessarily re-tightened his robe and grabbed the hot mug with both hands. He needed to feel that warmth radiating into his hands as he walked out of the kitchenette. He could still remember the cold burning sensation in his mind. The inability to breathe, the impossible to move feeling. It had to be sleep paralysis, right? He nodded to himself at his own question and took a sip of his coffee. Man, it tastes so much better when I put everything in it. He told himself he would drink it black again tomorrow. He needed to give himself a break today. Of course, he also told himself he wasn't going to ever be in a relationship again too, and see how that worked? Anyway, thank goodness it was the last day of work for the week. He wanted to sleep the entire weekend away. He did need to fix his home computer as well, but he could get away without it for a while. He could go to the library for his school work, and he could manage the online school documents with the outdated tablet if he needed to do something online.
He walked into the room and rammed his shin into the coffee table. He cursed under his breath for the hundredth time, swearing he was going to duct tape memory foam around that edge. He pushed the table back in place and sat down on his sofa. He reached for the remote to turn on the news, but decided today was not a day for the ills of the world. He had his own things to deal with and politics, natural disasters, and crime would have to go on without him today.
He sat down on the sofa and sipped at his coffee, sitting quietly in the dimly lit living room, with no desire to open the blinds or turn on the lights. He needed a quiet day today to let his mind acclimate that that ungodly awful dream. He could lose himself in his work today, order a pizza for dinner. What the hell? I already blew the intermittent fasting thing with this coffee, and after last night's nocturnal nonsense, he wanted to sleep that away, and try to forget his asinine choices in life, and the trust that he had given too many people. Maybe after dinner he would think about digging into figuring out what was wrong with his computer, but he told himself he probably was just going to read a book for fun, for once, and go to bed early.
He put down the mug on the book he was planning on reading later tonight. He scratched at his calf where it felt a bit irritated and itchy, and he noticed a small pink raised area where he remembered the talons or nails or whatever it was, from the dream last night. Maybe that was just some bug bite that manifested itself into my dream. He tried to remember if there were black widows or brown recluse spiders where he lived, but he couldn't remember. He thought there probably were because, of course there are. And of course he would get bitten by one of those nasty bastards. He made a mental note to call an exterminator and maybe a doctor. If that was what had any effect of whatever caused his dreams last night, he was willing to have them seal the apartment and bomb the hell out of it and he'd go stay at a hotel. Heck, he thought, maybe the whole building needs to be exterminated.
He looked to his side, on the cushion of the sofa where he had left the tablet the night before. He thought about checking it, just to see if she had written him. It had already been too long, and he already knew what would happen if he checked. If she wrote him, she would try to convince him that this was all in his head. He should have just communicated better with her and told her what he wanted. No. He was done with that game. He was going to factory reset that stupid tablet that started this whole mess, take it back to the office as soon as possible, and do his best to forget about the dream, the tablet, the damned spider bite, or whatever it was, his broken computer, and especially her. He needed to clear his mind and get on with his miserable, useless life. He knew the memories of her were going to haunt him for a while, but he also knew that she will have already moved on to some of her friends, quite likely telling them what an awful person he was, and forgetting him entirely. He didn't have other friends to air his grievances, but he did have the choice to avoid the reminders.
He grabbed the tablet and walked over to the desk that he kept his work computer, opened the mostly empty file drawer, and dropped it in one of the hanging folders, telling himself that it was going back to the office the first chance he gets. Forget the stupid tablet. Maybe he could talk to the security team at work and see if they will allow him to access his school website on his work computer. He was taking the classes for work, so he did have a legitimate excuse for the request. He shrugged. That was a problem for later today. He would figure it out. He closed the drawer and went to take a shower. He already had far too much on his mind, and today was going to be a long day.