“Who are you really?” My hands were shaking so I sat on them.
She threw her hands in the air, defeated, “Alright you got me. I’m not you at all I’m actually the son of God. I know the last one could do tricks and stuff, but at least I’ve avoided the cross”
Oh God, she really was me.
I groaned my head hurting with the information overload; “Why are you telling me all this?”
She licked the sugar, salt, ketchup mixture off her lips and regarded me with a strange intensity.
“I don’t trust anyone except myself and seeing as you are technically me, I see my trusting you as justified”
“Can you remember our last dream?” she asked. Of course I remembered how could I ever forget? But it was the same as all my previous terrifying dreams.
“I’ll take that as a yes” she continued, “But did you jump awake straight after you melted into the black or did you stay submerged for a little while longer?”
“I woke up straight away” My underarms felt damp and warm with sweat and my cheeks were burning, I pulled my hands out from underneath me to wipe my face. She nodded her head in a knowing way.
“I see… Well unfortunately I wasn’t that lucky. I didn’t- couldn’t- wake up”
She described to me that she lay on the rocking black waves frozen with fear. They felt sticky and had a syrupy texture. Slowly she noticed herself getting closer to the roof. She squeezed against it, one cheek pressed against the cool whiteness and the other against the warm syrup. The walls bulged to breaking point and she heard a crack. The first noise ever heard in one of the dreams. The walls started to crack and the Nightmares -for she realised that the black, sticky syrup were Nightmares- realised that there was a lot more room in the place beyond the Door. They flowed out the cracks leaving Jo in the room that was no longer a blinding white but now a dirty mud-streaked brown, except for a semi-circular area around the Door.