Ever since I got the job at the docks, I’ve been feeling sick, and not in the usual way; no cough, no sneeze, no troubles with my stomach. I feel as though my brain is sick. After my supervisor called me to congratulate me on my employment, I collapsed, and since I live alone, I woke up four and a quarter hours later on my hardwood floor, my head resting in a pool of saliva.
I wake up all the same each day, with a splitting headache that cannot be cured by any amount of painkillers, coffee, or alcohol, and yet I still put on my work sweater, beaten up jeans, and boots, stroll down to that old shipyard, and work my ass off for nine hours, all for that shabby pay of fifty dollars. The trouble is, I guess, that I can’t quit, or at least that’s what my face tells me every night when I look in the mirror.
I wake up from a restless night of terrors created by my own brain. “Aaah!” I exclaim, brow furrowing as I look around. “Oh boo-hoo, little man just wants the nightmares to end, oh will someone please aid him, will they?” Says a loud and shrill voice. “Who’s there, why are you saying all this?” I yell, not directing the sound in any direction at all. Nothing. No response. I get up. Pulling socks over my feet, and a Tee over my bare torso, I walk to the bathroom, and twist the hot shower knob. I slip out of my pajama pants and other garments and step in, pulling the curtain back across its rail. With a sigh of relief, I begin to wash myself, when suddenly, the water goes frigid. I attempt to readjust the knobs to bring the hot water fourth, but after some time I give up, I hear cold showers are good for you, anyways. As I settle back into my casual washing routine, I jump back, pinning myself against the wall, as the shadow of a tall man with elongated features appeared through the shower curtain, and suddenly two more appear, and they slowly move closer, until…
Nothing. I push the curtain back and the bathroom is deserted, and the water, too, I realize that the temperature never changed, it’s as hot as ever. I step out of the shower, drying myself with a pink towel that was hanging on a hook on the door. After I finish drying off, I fasten the towel around my waist and step towards the sink. The mirror is still fogged from the hot shower, so as I brush my teeth, I rub the mirror dry. But there is a problem. A big problem. What I see looking back at me is not quite… me. Sure, its skin tone is right, it’s bone structure is right, really, everything is correct, but I just can’t ignore the fact that it is not me. I turn the cold water knob on the sink to full blast and cup the water to my face, the feeling tightens my skin and cools my brain, and allows me to move away, putting on my clothes, and walking into the kitchen. I reach for the coffee grounds, but without thinking, I grab the bottle of vodka and put it to my lips. I cannot control myself. I drink for at least 40 seconds, until my face is purple and the beverage is spilling all over the floor. I drop the bottle, and it shatters everywhere. I step backwards. I take another step. I keep waking back until I break out of the spell.
I walk to work that day shaken up. I’ve already encountered three details of my nightmare from last night: three very tall men, someone who is me but isn’t me, and a vision of drowning myself in alcohol. I think my brain is trying to kill me.
I arrive at work and the skies are gray, not one cloud moves out of the way to allow sun through. As I pick up my tools at the checkin booth, thunder rumbles in the distance dramatically. I look about, and despite my convenient position with virtually no large sight abstractions, I see no storm clouds or even dark skies, only light gray. I look back at my tools, and walk over to my work area, beginning my work for the day. About halfway through my work day, I come out of my autopilot mindset, and see that I have been hammering nails into pieces of wood that have no need for nails, I have been shown yet another occurrence from my nightmare. Then, I look down at the water. I see my reflection staring back at me. Suddenly the water goes flat. No ripples of any kind. Without control of my body, I grab my hammer and a nail, and push the nail into the surface of a piece of wood. I hit the nail. I hit it again, harder. Harder still, I hit it again. I look up, and around. The place is empty. None of my coworkers are here. I look down, and to my horror, I see a three inch nail all the way through my forearm. I shriek in pain, as blood runs from my arm to the wood below, and I recite my sights from my nightmare. “Tall men, Not me, Drown in vodka, Hammering the wrong boards, Hammering my arm, and my oxygen being cut off as I float 10 feet above the ground.”
I am writing this as my arm bleeds. There is no one to help. I am going to die. I have no hope of survival, so please, just don’t take a job at the docks. My brain is trying to kill me, and yours will too.