[Working Title] Dreams

Jeff Krolly gets out of bed, first his left leg-then his right. With enormous effort he lifts his body upright. It takes a few seconds for the room to stop spinning, he just closes his eyes- he can feel the sunlight on his face, and can see the orange and red of it through his eyelids. While his eyes are closed he rubs his palms against both eyes, this caused all the gunk to become dislodged somewhere on his bed. He opens his eyes and places both hands on the bed, palms down.

He leans his head this way and that, cracking the bones in his neck. He raises his arms and stretches, letting out a long grunt. Then he inhales deeply-gets up-and takes a shower.

Once out of the shower he gets dressed, the same black suit and red tie, everyday. His black leather shoes, white socks, white under shirt, everything the same-everyday-nothing changes. He looks at himself in the mirror, stiff as a board, his shoulders are right angles. He inhales and with his briefcase in one hand, leaves his apartment.

One the roof of the thirty story apartment building, Jeff Krolly is looking over the edge of the balcony. He looks down at all the little people walking around, all with their destinations in mind. He stands at the edge of the balcony, inhales, and jumps. With his eyes fighting to stay open from the hard wind he's falling into, he watches as the ground rushes toward him. And he's about to hit-that split second before the impact-he blacks out. A blur of images, and harsh wind in his ears-silence.

All is black.

There's loud music blaring in his ears. It startles him, and he wakes up with a jump. The crowd of people around him, jump back. Not one asks him if he's okay or alright. Not one. No helping hand, helping him to his feet. No doctor in a white lab coat to tell him what's going on. No cliche goth party with 'undead' ghosts dancing to Goth Industrial music. Here, they like trance. With a push up, he gets up. On all fours, he gets on his knees. Then he leans upward. Finally, he gets to his feet and looks around. Everyone is dancing, like a really good music video, everyone is dancing. He walks around the club, like a snake through sand, sifting through the crowd. As he slides in between all the people there he notices he's bleeding. Jeff stops and touches the right side of his head; feels the huge gash in his head and begins to feel the room sway from left to right. The room gets blurry and Jeff loses his balance, he falls and hits the floor.

The floor feels like soft sheets.

Jeff Krolly gets out of bed, first his left leg-then his right. With enormous effort he lifts his body upright. It takes a few seconds for the room to stop spinning, he just closes his eyes- he can feel the sunlight on his face, and can see the orange and red of it through his eyelids. While his eyes are closed he rubs his palms against both eyes, this caused all the gunk to become dislodged somewhere on his bed. He opens his eyes and places both hands on the bed, palms down. He leans his head this way and that, cracking the bones in his neck.

He raises his arms and stretches, letting out a long grunt. Then he inhales deeply-gets up-and takes a shower.

Jeff thinks to himself, "Some kind of crazy vivid dream?" He's almost convinced it was all just a lucid dream, until he feels the scabs across the whole right side of his head and face. His soul shaken, he stumbles out of the still running shower. He swipes away the steam that clings to his mirror, like he's swatting flies. This way and that. Left and to the right. Back and forth his hands go, wiping the steam off his reflection.

He looks at what he's told himself since birth is himself. He touches his face, feels nothing but skin, and the reflection shows nothing but what he feels. Jeff lets out a sigh of relief, and looks at himself before getting into the shower again. The reflection winks at him and its skin begins to crack like china falling against a wall. And the blood begins to pour.

[Incomplete idea that never really evolved into anything.]

-Sir Jestro