Her perspective changes, and she is now seeing herself from the creature’s point of view. It looks upon parts of her sleeping face, magnifying portions at will. Each pore, each hair follicle is closely examined under its sharp, microscopic vision.
(She always would be stung awake by the extreme closeness; this time the dream continued.)
The deafening sound of her breath didn’t bother the ominous being, as it studied her face. It increased its magnification. Groups of skin cells shook with each shallow breath. Closer still, it examined a single cell wobbling in rhythm with its surrounding siblings. It adjusted its focus and zoomed in further: a strand of DNA floated innocently in a viscous pool. The twisted ladder flexed and stretched. Her breathing accelerated beyond her control, and she started to choke. She inhaled sharply and held it beyond capacity—a thorny needle pierced through the doughy cell wall, shocking her innards and shoving her awake.
| 4 |
She woke up violently choking and clutched the side of her face. Sitting up quickly, she began coughing uncontrollably, as she rubbed her cheek in search of an abrasion; she found nothing noticeable. The noon sun baked the interior of the tent, making her sleeping session roughly 16 hours.
The sleeping bag was thoroughly soaked, along with her hair and skin. She frantically unzipped the tent with pruned fingers and slouched outside, still coughing. Forcing air back into her lungs, she vomited over the ground outside the tent door. Her bulging eyes watered; her insides wrung out their contents. What seemed to be nothing more than lake water mixed with the dirt and leaves in front of the tent. Muddy soup pooled and trickled down towards the lake. Her bloodshot eyes watched the water escape from the tent, picking up little pieces of dirt and debris in its path.
The rusty liquid expelled without burning her throat. It had no taste or smell and felt as natural as exhaling, but she wondered why there were no traces of berries or roots from the previous day. After the last purge, she spat away stringy saliva and caught her breath. A feeling of euphoria ensued.
She fell onto her side and looked at the high sun through the thin canopy. A gentle wind pushed branches, and sunlight flickered in code. She quickly propped up on her elbow; her lower half still wrapped in the soggy sleeping bag. She breathed in the cool afternoon air and looked back inside the tent; the stagnant air inside evaporated into the autumn.
She rolled back into the tent and patted the sleeping bag. The outer layer seemed dry, but when she unzipped it fully, the lining was completely soaked. She pushed her hand into the soft gray cushion. The pressure pushed liquid to the surface, darkening the gray fabric to charcoal. Lifting her dripping hand to her face, she smelled her palm—no odor. She tasted her shriveled fingertip—no taste. Thankful that she didn’t wet the bed, she slid out her waterlogged legs onto the bag. Gasping at the sight, she traced the contours of her wrinkled limbs. The tread on her fingerprint skidded across the grain of swollen nerve endings, forcing her to clench.
Carefully maneuvering over the newly made puddle, she stumbled out of the tent into direct sunlight. Her softened feet imprinted the debris on the ground, sending up shocks of pain. She tiptoed to a smoother clearing to absorb the sun’s heat and gather her thoughts. Strobe flashes of her dream stabbed her senses and shot her eyes open to avoid the unsettling, up-close visions.
Looking around camp, she began to remember the previous evening. She padded over to the scattered boots, pulled out the wet socks, and carelessly threw them towards the tent; they landed in the dirt like scoops of custard. She winced at the extreme friction of the boots against her tender instep and gingerly walked back to shore.
Her tongue felt dry and stomach empty, although she wasn’t thirsty or hungry. Sweat from her forehead dripped into her eyes. Anticipating a sting, she wiped them with the back of her wrist. However, the sweat did nothing but soothe her eyes and sharpen her view of the path to shore.
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