I want feedback on this, damnit. You’re allowed to tell me it sucks, but I want constructive criticism, okay? Thank you.
The hallucinations don’t surprise me anymore. It’s been seven weeks since I last slept. Not even downing half of the bottle of sleeping pills that’s in the medicine cabinet helped. So, when the grey-haired man appeared and said, “Hi,” I wasn’t shocked.
No, he wasn’t an illusion. That’s what scared me.
“Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Right. Showing up in my apartment without opening a door is the perfect way to do that.
Why the Hell are you here?, I ask him. For some reason, I’m starting to trust him.
“Your insomnia’s getting worse, isn’t it? You’re jumpy, irritable. Tired of seeing things that can’t be real.”
The Grey Man pauses.
“Your hallucinations? They’re real.”
“You’re seeing, for lack of a better term, the Dream World, the plane where your consciousness goes when you sleep.”
I remind him I don’t sleep anymore.
A smile crosses his face.
“Because you’re beyond it now. You can walk between the realms at will.”
Why are you telling me all this? What am I supposed to do?
“Simple. Save us.”