Sludge

I am suddenly aware of a man to my left. I'm not sure where I am, or how I got here- the single thing I'm certain of is that I am horizontal, and that I cannot see. My eyes are closed. I open them.

The man to my left notices this. He is standing next to me, and is wearing a black suit. He has brown hair, and is middle-aged. He reminds me of my uncle, although he has no beard and has a different build. I try to move, but cannot. My limbs do not obey me. I try to move my head, but that will not move, either. The only part of my body that I can move are my eyes. I look around me, see nothing but a blank white ceiling, the man to my left, and, to my right, a wooden door. The door opens with a creak. I see nothing. I hear a noise to my left, so I look. A man is there. The man begins, slowly, to open his mouth. His mouth is now improbably wide open, to the point where I swear I hear his jaw pop out of place. He looks at me, and closes his eyes as a thick, black ooze begins to pour from his mouth. I can see his throat working, pumping out the black ooze, and making a choking, vomiting sound. His eyes are open, and he's looking at me. His eyes are desperate, he's begging me with his eyes. My own breathing begins to become difficult. I am aware of a foreign taste in the back of my throat. I can't stand to look at him any longer. I glance to my right, and-

I wake up sweating and coughing. I feel like I've swallowed a spider. They say that during your life you swallow 20 spiders in your sleep, or some shit like that. I feel around my mouth with my tongue, trying to get the midnight scum taste out.

I throw the blankets off my sweating, pale body and step out to the kitchen for a drink of water. The dream still feels real, and I can still feel the taste in the back of my head. The guy in my dream- he looked like the sort of man you'd seen in a crowd somewhere, the vaguely familiar, almost deja vu feeling you get when your life just barely scrapes by another person's, where you go to the same stores and enjoy the same brands of beers and soft drinks but never actually meet. He was the sort of man that could have been a cousin twice removed or something. He was the sort of man you liked.

My cup was empty, so I made a space for it on my counter and went to flick the light off. An enormous cockroach fell from what, the ceiling? Total bullshit. I look up, expecting to see something, I guess, but nothing was there except for the off-white blandness of your everyday apartment building. The cockroaches were getting old fast. I pushed the flimsy light switch down and, newly blind, groped my way back to the bedroom.

I don't recall any more dreams that night.

**