I see myself now as I do every night. The scene is different now. New dreams are rare these days, and the uncertainty makes me restless. I know who haunts my dreams every day. It's me, but she looks odd, smaller and chubbier. Her hair is longer than mine and she walks funny, slow and unsure, almost with a limp. She's standing in a wide pool of strange, thick liquid. Her once white dress is dyeing yellow as the dark sludge that covers the ground seeps into the cotton. The light is strangely defused, almost as if we are underwater, and the light travels slowly, confused. I soon make out the walls around us, stained and peeling wallpaper running parallel at our side. A hallway, I conclude, oddly familiar. I see her ahead of me as if I'm looking down at fish in a pond, ripples distorting the view. After her frequent visits in my dreams, I decided on the name Noone. It suits her quite well. Their eyes follow her wherever she goes. I feel them on me now as well, but I can’t pull my gaze off of her to find the source of those cool chilled eyes. Its pressure always rests uncomfortably on my lower back, piercing me like a dull, slowed drill. I have this feeling, no, a certainty that she doesn’t know I'm here. As if she's unaware this is my dream she's invading, yet I follow her every night. Deeper and deeper she goes, with me following behind, but we can’t seem to shake their eyes. She’s struggling, I notice. Her legs fight the dark sludge that covers the floor and holds her down. I feel a pain of guilt. I can move much more easily while her small body struggles and her bare feet trudge through the sediment. Toys and dolls float around the sludge, their colors dimmed. The shapes of the toys are off. It’s almost impossible to make out the edge of each object, as if they are blending into the sludge. Up ahead, I notice the goo seems to move on its own. A small wave seems to be moving ever so slightly towards Noone. No, that's not the sludge. Something is alive in the oozing liquid, dodging toys. Something scaly and long, weaving in the sludge and creating a twisting wave. Occasionally it overlaps itself; it as well seems to be fighting the sludge. I almost feel sorry for it until I notice it's heading towards Noone, almost undetectable. Noone’s unaware of this, I realize. The dark oozing liquid is enough to distract her and captivate all her attention as she dodges obstacles. I try to shout out, to warn her, tell her to run, but my voice finds itself lost. Noone slows her movement and I become frustrated with her. She needs to escape. Why doesn’t she realize she has to keep going, keep fighting? I’m stuck here with her too, I can only follow. Doesn’t she know both our lives rest on her ability to escape this creature? It isn't until my eyes adjust to the weak light that I find why she's stopped. We have reached the end of the hall and a great door stands in our way. Its size is disproportionately large compared to Noone’s tiny frame.
Shadows play at the door like a movie projected. Muffled sounds of people arguing inside ring in my ears, but their words, or rather their meanings, are unfamiliar. I fear this door, I realize. Some memory locked deep in my mind knows what's behind this door and knows enough to fear it. It does the same for Noone. She's shaking. Her feet give out and she topples to the floor. I try to get to her, help her up, but goo locks my feet in place, becoming almost solid. The sludge works fast and starts to take her as she thrashes around, looking for some way to get out. She's being pulled down by her legs. A long rope, no, a snake, grabs hold of her leg. The creature sneaked up on us and is taking her from me. I try to go to her, but the sludge holds me back, becoming thicker than ever. The voices become louder. They’re yelling at me because I didn't protect her. I let out a piercing scream, but I know only I can hear it.
My scream echoes in my ears, waking me. I take big gulps of air, my lungs desperate. My heart is beating profusely, and the air in my room is thick and heavy. I am hit with the feeling of concern that someone might have been woken by my scream. That thought is destroyed, crumbled to pieces in my mind, when I remember no one is home. It's just me and Noone, tortured by the shadows of a hollow home. I let myself drift back into slumber.