Hot Dreams

Time doesn’t even really seem like a thing anymore. I know I am laying in the dark. Well it might not be dark. My eyes are closed, that I know. There might be light on wherever I am. Probably a hospital. But I can tell that my eyes aren’t working. At least not the way that they normally do. They are not registering light at all. They are just showing me what I am calling dream images. I’m not calling anything anything. I am thinking of it like that. I don’t have any functions other than to imagine sights and sounds. But there is a buzzing that is coming from outside of me. I think. I think so. No. I’m sure of it. Okay, yeah, I’m going to assume that that is the case. I’m sure I’m in a hospital. What did I do to get myself here? Drugs? An accident? Was I attacked? It’s amazing. I don’t really remember anything about myself. I feel like a blank slate. I have wants and desires beyond waking up. I’m pretty sure that I understand the world. But maybe I don’t. I might just be a brain in a jar. Or maybe brains don’t exist and I’m something else with implanted memories of a world that doesn’t exist. No. That’s stupid. I have to go on what I know. Play by the rules that I understand. It’s like someone is telling me a riddle but they are not sure how it goes and also I am the one telling the riddle and neither of us knows what the answer is or if there’s an answer. In my mind I can make it seem like I just got here or that I’ve been here for years. I don’t really feel my body anymore. I think I can imagine the general size and shape of my body. But I can’t move anything, even my eyes, even if I look around. If I look around it feels more like I am moving around even though I have no center of gravity. It just feels like floating. Like I’m zoning out while watching a planetarium show. Now, whatever that means any more, I hear voices from outside of me. I think that they are outside of me. I am sure of it. They are saying what I think is my name. A word that makes sense to be my name. They are talking about what I want. Never wanted to be a vegetable. Brain dead. Gone already. Pulling the plug just a formality. Now wait a minute. I’m here. I’m fine. Don’t do that. I try to do anything but nothing happens. I just keep hearing them. There are so many of them. Or maybe two. All voices sound like my voice. Now they are arguing. Or they are back. A voice wants to see if I can get better. I know I am fine. Wait, it says. I agree. But the other voice says that it can’t stand it to see me this way. I try to dream other dreams. But no shapes will appear in what counts as my vision any more. I just live in their words. Hoping I can do anything before they do.

Joe Bielecki

Joe bielecki is a writer from Michigan working in radio and television. He hosts a movie podcast called Sharing Everything with his wife Cady, and produces noise music under the name Ring of Roses. His work has appeared in Faded Out, and he has work forthcoming in Moonchild Magazine and Occulum. He can be found on instagram and twitter @noisemakerjoe. 

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