I have always had horrible insomnia. Ever since I was a very young child I would find myself tossing and turning at night, unable to fall asleep. It was a rare day when I woke up feeling even mostly well-rested. I started taking melatonin, diphenhydramine, and other sleep aids at a fairly young age. They helped a bit, but people still commented on the near-constant bags under my eyes.
A little over a week ago I stopped by the local grocery store after work, looking to get a fresh supply of sleeping pills to replace the ones I ran out of the night before. I went to the usual spot and just grabbed a bottle blindly, not even looking at it. The cashier didn’t seem to look either, just scanned it and tossed it in a little plastic bag which I would add to the already substantial pile which overflowed out of my trash can.
It wasn’t until late at night that I actually took a look at the bottle, and I was pissed off. Sure, from a distance it looked like the usual brand I got, but up close it was markedly different. It looked like it was some cheap knockoff, deliberately designed to look similar to the name brand in order to trick the unwary into buying it. The label on the bottle said “Somnidryl” in crisp blue lettering, with no slogan, chemical name, or anything else useful. I couldn’t even find a company logo.
I checked for the drug facts, hoping that at least it would have the same active ingredients as what I usually used, but no luck, all I could find on the back was a single sentence, “Take one pill before bed”. There was no way to tell what this drug was, and I groaned in frustration and fatigue.
I figured I’d try to get some rest without medicine tonight, I didn’t want to risk it. I turned on my white noise machine, put on my eye mask, and tried to rest. As the minutes turned to hours, the bottle of Somnidryl on the bedside table started to feel more and more appealing.
Finally, at nearly 3 AM, I gave in, and opened the bottle. The pills inside were gel capsules filled with an opaque purple liquid. Without a second thought, I dry swallowed one, and went back into bed. I started to try and count sheep in my head to tire myself out. I got to 23 sheep before I lost consciousness.
I suddenly found myself lying on hard concrete. I rubbed my eyes, standing up as best I could. When I opened them, I found that I wasn’t in my room.
I stood on the edge of a tall building, looking over an enormous, brutalist city extending as far as I could see. Endless chaotic masses of angular, gray buildings, surrounded by thick mist. I couldn’t see the ground or the sky, everything was so foggy, it was as if there was nothing but buildings forever. Enormous spires of dark concrete extended for what seemed like miles into the sky, larger than any metropolitan building in the real world. There were no windows on any of the titanic structures, no lights to show I wasn’t alone.
The smell of mold was heavy in the air, and I began to feel woozy. My eyelids fluttered as I started to lean towards the edge, about to fall.
I woke up in bed, the faint sunlight pouring through from my apartment window. It was about a minute before my alarm was due to go off.
Normally when I dream about falling, I wake up in a cold sweat, panicked, heart racing. This was different. I felt so energized, so utterly awake and ready to seize the day. Whatever this Somnidryl was, it was certainly working to fix my insomnia. The other employees at my crappy minimum wage job were surprised at how energized I was, and even my manager complimented me on my work. The endless parade of annoying customers seemed more bearable, less grating. I felt truly rested for the first time in my life.
When it came time to go to bed, I happily took another pill, genuinely looking forward to waking up well rested and focused. I counted how long it took for me to lose consciousness. I got to exactly 23 seconds before I once again found myself in that strange, gray city.
This time I was on a terrace, once again overlooking the impossible, endless metropolis. I turned away from the sight, not wanting to fall like the last time. There was a doorway leading into the building, dimly illuminated despite there being no light source. I stepped inside, the slap of my bare feet echoing through the gloom and fog. The stench of decay and dampness increased as I walked through a maze of winding gray corridors, taking turns at random. Clusters of black mold dotted the walls, with tendrils of the fungus extending off them like veins.
As I approached another turn, I noticed a small, pulsating black mass on the corner of the wall and ceiling. I touched it, gingerly, and it erupted into a swarm of eight-legged bodies, scattering as the arachnids skittered away from the offending digit. Startled, I pulled away my hand and backed away with a gasp. Daddy Long-Legs, I thought to myself.
Gingerly avoiding stepping on the dozens of harvestmen which were scampering across the floor, I continued onward. It felt like I had been walking forever, and I had no idea how long I had been there. I remembered stories of people who had dreams which felt like they lasted years, how they awoke missing spouses they never married, children who were never born. I started to become afraid I would never leave.
As I started to panic, I started to hear something which pierced the unending silence of the dead city. A faint hum of static, like a white noise machine set to low volume. It reminded me of the gentle roar of ocean waves upon a distant shore. I began to move towards the noise, wanting to be free of the monotony of pointless exploration. I quickened my pace, jogging down the blank corridor towards the static. As I rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, I caught a glimpse of something pale moving around another corner. As it moved away from me, the static grew quieter.
I started to take a step towards where the thing had left, when I woke up. Once again I felt rested and energized, but the dream lingered in my mind. It was much longer this time, and felt more vivid. I tried to brush off my concerns, explaining away that the dream lasted longer simply because I slept more than the night before. It was the weekend, so I decided to spend the day cleaning up my apartment, and doing some long overdue chores. The energy I got from my sleep was stronger, more pure than anything caffeine could produce. I didn’t need to touch an energy drink or a cup of coffee for the whole day. By the time I was done, the apartment looked cleaner than it had in years.
I ordered takeout that night, a reward for a good day’s work, before spending some time reading, something I usually didn’t have the mental clarity to do. By the time I felt tired enough to head off to bed it was nearly 12 AM. I went into my bedroom and changed into my pajamas for bed. I looked over at the Somindryl on my nightstand. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep without it, but I still felt trepidation.
I remembered the previous dream quite strongly, more than I had any dream before. It felt so real, all 5 senses engaged. It frightened me, but at the same time I felt better than I ever had, I felt like the constant drowsiness which hung over my life like a fog was finally lifted, that I was free. Before I could change my mind, I popped one of the gel capsules in my mouth and swallowed, laying in bed and counting the seconds as I waited for sleep. Once again, exactly 23 seconds passed before I fell asleep.
I was in a long, bare hallway, dimly illuminated as before despite there being no source of light. It seemed to continue onward in front of me into infinity. The same black mold grew in odd clumps on the walls, and I could see a twitching mass of daddy-long-legs near the ceiling. I turned around and saw the hallway continue on ad infinitum behind me as well. It seemed like the whole world had been replaced with miles of bare concrete.
In no particular hurry, I turned back around and started walking. I reflected on how quickly the transition from the waking world to dream had been. It felt less as if I drifted off to sleep and more as if I had suddenly been instantaneously transported to another place. I didn’t feel like I was asleep, that sense of being guided along by the whims of my unconscious mind wasn’t there. I was wholly lucid and entirely aware of my surroundings. I could feel the cool, slightly damp concrete beneath my bare feet. I could smell the scent of rot and stale air. I could hear the tinnitus ringing in my ears due to the utter and complete silence, broken only by the slapping of my feet as I marched endlessly onward.
I tried to keep track of how long I had been there, but it is hard to tell time without a watch nor a visible sky. It could have been hours, or merely 20 minutes, there was no way for me to tell. I didn’t feel any hunger or thirst, so it couldn’t have been too long.
I started to hear the faintest hum of static coming from behind me. I turned around and squinted, peering into the distance, straining my eyes to catch even a glimpse of the source of the noise. At first I didn’t see anything at all, just an expanse of hallway stretching on forever, but then I noticed a very slight hint of movement in the distance. Something large and indistinct, so far away it was barely visible, but rapidly getting closer. I turned around and started running at full speed.
I was glad I had saved my energy before, because now I needed to move as quickly as possible. I pushed myself as hard as I could, lungs burning from the effort as I filled them with the musty, stale air. I could hear the roaring static increase in volume behind me, but there seemed to be no end to this blank, featureless corridor. My muscles began to ache with the strain, my body begging me to just stop, to lie down and accept my fate. I was running on pure adrenaline, pushed on by the primal need to live, to survive.
The once-faint static was now almost unbearable in its intensity, it sounded like I was being pursued by a boombox blasting the sound of TV static at full volume. My ears felt as if they were going to burst from the intense noise. I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to block out the dreadful cacophony.
I tripped.
I sprawled out across the hard concrete, getting the briefest glimpse of my pursuer. An amorphous mass of gray cloth and outstretched, pale arms, covered with black veins of mold. Hundreds of harvestmen skittered on spindly legs through the folds of its voluminous robes as it glided towards me at a speed like a freight train. The unbearable roar of static ceased as I felt warm liquid dribble out of my ears. A pale, long-nailed hand grasped at my leg and I screamed as I felt its touch burn my flesh.
Then I was awake.
Blood stained my pillow, dripping out from my deafened ears. I fell out of bed, screaming, but I couldn’t hear my own cries. I attempted to stand up but stumbled, my leg burning with intense pain. Gingerly I rolled up my pant leg, revealing a white mark in the shape of a hand print.
According to the doctors both of my eardrums have been severely ruptured. I should be able to recover in a few weeks if I make sure they don’t get infected. They didn’t even try to come up with a good explanation. According to them, I must have sleepwalked and jammed pencils in my ears. They couldn’t explain the hand print either. It looked like frostbite, but there was no way that I could have gotten it under the blankets of my heated room. They insisted that the hand print shape of the mark must be a simple coincidence.
I managed to get a week off from work to recover, but I had to use up all my sick days and remaining vacation hours to do it. Its been five days since the incident now, and I haven’t been able to sleep. I’ve tried everything, but no matter what I do I just can’t make myself lose consciousness. Without sleep, the brain starts to fail. Nobody knows exactly when it will outright kill you, but I must be getting close. I’ve begun hallucinating now, seeing little veins of black mold on my walls, daddy-long-legs climbing on the ceiling, and every so often I hear the faintest hint of static.
I need to sleep, but I know now that the only way I’m going to get any rest is to go back to that horrible place. I have a glass of water and a pill of Somnidryl on my nightstand. Pray for me.