Inversion

I walked the dark street in a light rain. A “car” traveled by on soft wheels. Garbled signs lined the walls around me. I knew I was dreaming, though the unintelligible signs were the only proof. I had been here many nights before, in a strange land with strange customs.

It took many trips to this land to know I was dreaming. Aside from the foreign conveyances (“cars” as the locals called them) there were a million differences between this world and mine. It was always night here, while in my world the days are divided between light and dark, only changing in balance with the seasons. The people dressed in beige and black, no colors to distinguish them from one another or from the drab surroundings. Rain was constant, as was the eternal sound of shouts and sirens though I never discovered the sources.

This particular voyage into this world seemed a bit greyer than usual. It also seemed a bit longer. My dreams were becoming longer every night, and waking more difficult. I wondered if perhaps I was getting closer to death.

I never understood why this dream reoccured, what lesson was I supposed to gain from it, or where exactly it was taking place. All I knew is that nothing changed. All the faces were the same, the vehicles passed in the same pattern, even the rain drops seemed to fall in exactly the same spot. It was like a crystalized moment of time which I was cursed to repeat over and over again.

As I did every other night, I walked in a steady pace down the dank corridor. I never got anywhere, just a few hundred yards or so, before I would awaken back in my bed. But this time the trek lingered under my feet for miles. I was beginning to worry.
Suddenly the rain stopped. Voices and sirens snuffed out like a candle. All turned black.

Was this finally the sweet embrace of death?

A disembodied voice spoke. It was almost imperceptible. I thought perhaps God or St. Peter were whispering from the hidden gates somewhere beyond the inky black. Perhaps they couldn’t find me in my dream.

“Wake up!” I told myself. “Wake up or you can’t cross over!”

Despair engulfed me. I couldn’t die and be left in Limbo, could I? Could this “dream” in fact be purgatory?

The disembodied voice spoke louder.

“Specimen 375, from Earth year 1818, no perceptible disturbance from future shock.”

1818? That was the current year. But why would St. Peter call me a specimen?

“Specimen 375 is gaining consciousness. Administer waking sim.”

In a flash my eyes were blinded by the sight of my bedroom. Sunlight was pouring through the window, It was spring and the din of my dream was replaced by the songs of birds and the carriages on the street below my room.

Why did the voice mention this year? What was future shock?
I couldn’t wonder much more, I had to open my shop. I went downstairs and unlocked the door. No sooner had I done so when a certain Mr. Briggins came in.

“Mr. Cummings, I’m glad to see you well. I was worried when your shop door was closed for two days. The town thought maybe you’d gone off for the port to restock.”

“Two days?”

I’d been at the store every day, I lived just above it. I wouldn’t miss two days. Besides, I remembered being there every day, especially since it was such a contrast with my nightly travels.

“There have been strange activities here as of late. Nightly visions of heavenly lights. Angels or demons dancing in the stars. And disappearances. Some of the townsfolk have been worried that you had disappeared too.”

If I was the swearing type I’d swear I was at the store the past two days. But Briggins was convinced otherwise. So I lied.

“Ah, well, no worries. I’ve been attending to business in Richmond. I’m back for the time being.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Keep an eye on the sky tonight and you may see what the town has been seeing.”

Such strange reports. Oh well, no sense letting it distract me from my work. I went about my day as usual. Only a few times did someone come in and comment on my “absence.”

When night fell, the town was unusually quiet. There wasn’t a soul on the street. I waited by my window for an hour or so after sundown before I began to feel silly. Lights in the sky? Angels? Demons? The town must be under a delusion. They convinced themselves that I had disappeared.

I needed sleep. My dreams had made my sleep restless and less than refreshing. Perhaps tonight I would sleep soundly. I crawled into my bed and shut my eyes.

Floating. All I could sense was nothingness around me. I opened my eyes to a blinding light. An orb hovered above me. It appeared to be getting larger and larger. Was it coming closer? I wanted to run, but my body was frozen, I could sense only the slightest movement. The orb wasn’t getting closer, it was pulling me towards it.

Black.

The walls with unreadable signs came up around me. A street was under my feet, for the first time I noticed its material composition, a hard black substance unlike anything that I had seen in Virginia. The “cars” sped by. Rain was beginning to fall.

My dream.

Something new caught my attention. Lights brighter than any candle were burning on poles above the road. They burned without flame, a solid constant glow emanated from their glass shapes. What was this world?

I walked a little further under these strange lights when I came upon a shop. It was vaguely familiar. I recognized the windows. The door was shut.

It was my store!

The visage was almost unrecognizable separated from the rest of the town. Blackness consumed all sides of the building. It stood alone on the empty street.

Looking in the windows I noticed a stack of boxes. The ones on top glowed just like the strange lamps. Tiny men danced on the front. How did they fit in such a small container?

This was definitely a dream.

A bell rang behind me. I turned to see a small post with a numbered box at the top. A handle was attached to the box with a cord. What was this? The bell rang again. And again. Louder and louder it rang until I felt my mind melting.

I did the only thing I could think to do. I grabbed the handle and pulled. To my great shock it pulled completely free of the box with no effort at all.

“Specimen 375? Are you there?”

I jumped at the voice. It took me several seconds to determine the source, the handle was speaking!

“Specimen 375? Hold the phone to your ear.”

“Phone?”

I looked at the speaking handle and noticed tiny holes covering the top and bottom parts. I had never seen such a contraption. I did as the voice instructed.

“Specimen 375, this is the future speaking. You have passed the test. We will send you home again.”

What could this possibly mean?

In the next breath my surroundings became as white as a snow blind. I found myself lying flat on my back on what felt to be a thousand needles. Slowly my eyes focused. What appeared before them could only be described as a monster.

The monster spoke, not in the English that I used, but in some strange clicking. Nonetheless, I understood every word.

“Specimen 375, do not be afraid. We have been observing you and we have determined you to be a good example of your species. Return to your world and tell no one of your experience.”

When these words hit my ears, I found myself floating again under the orb.

Then I woke up.

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Hello folks, I hope you enjoyed this little story. It's in response to the Scholar and Scribe monthly writing contest. The theme this month is dreamscape and the genre is scifi.

This was definitely a challenge for me!

Check out the contest here and enjoy all the authors in this great community.

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Love your sci-fi story. I especially liked the mention that it took many trips to that land to realize it was a dream. I can associate with that feeling in several of my reoccurring dreams.

Thanks for sharing.