8: nightmares

I met David where I always did: at his trailer in the abandoned parking lot of an old broken down supermarket. He always had friends with him, each one reeking of cigarettes and weed. This time wasn't any different---I knocked on the door, he opened it, and that smell came rushing into my face as he did.

He flashed a wide smile when he saw me. "Ey, 'sup, man? Haven't seen you around here in a while."

"You know what I'm here for. I don't plan on sticking around."

His smile faltered slightly, but he nodded. "Sure, sure, just give me a sec." He turned back into his trailer and I stood on the front steps listening to him rummage through his stuff for what might've been about five minutes. When he came back, he handed me a plastic baggie full of small brown seeds. It was labeled "datura stramonium", which I could only just barely read in the dim light.

I looked back at him. "Man, what the hell is this? This is not what I paid you for."

Then his smile became the nervous type of smile. "Look, I'm actually out of acid..." I opened my mouth to speak, but he quickly continued on. "BUT! But, you can totally trip hard on those seeds. I've got a buddy down in SoCal who deals with all sorts of psychedelics, you know, he grew this stuff, and he says that this shit is so much harder than acid. Even he won't take it."

I sighed, irritation making my eye twitch. "What is it?"

"Jimsonweed," he replied. "It grows naturally, it's a flower, right? It's like acid, but it lasts way longer and the trip is a lot more real."

"Have you taken it before?"

He shook his head. "Just got this stuff. There's about 150 seeds in that bag, which is how much people usually take to get a decent high."

I drew in a long and steady breath before exhaling, rubbing my head. I wasn't in the mood to try any new drugs, but at the same I definitely did not want to spend the night sober, after everything that happened. Reluctantly, I put the bag in my pocket and turned to leave. "David, if this shit blows, you're giving me my money back."

He nodded. "Of course, man. And don't worry, I'll let you know when I have more acid."

"You better."

He shut the door behind me as I turned away. After I left, I headed to a park near a town center type area. It wasn't far from Jessie's club, and it wasn't far from the university campus. While the idea that one of my friends might find me, which was the last thing I wanted to deal with, hung in my head, I wanted to be close by just in case I needed to get back to the dorm. It wasn't like I'd be able to get any further on foot anyway, and wandering all the way to the freeway would just make everything worse.

I sat down at an empty bench nearby a tree and decided to take the seeds. For a moment, I was unsure whether I should chew them or just swallow, but without water, I decided to chew them. They were awfully bitter and it took everything in me to not spit them out. I managed to force down a majority of the seeds, some chunks even getting stuck in my teeth. After the horrible ordeal, I decided to just leave the rest of the seeds in the bag. It reminded me of the first time I tried shrooms: having to force down the vile-tasting plant. I hadn't taken shrooms in years, since they weren't nearly as strong as I'd like them to be, and LSD was really just what I needed.

After about 20 minutes passed, I was starting to think they were a bust. It was around then that my mouth started getting horribly dry and my eyes felt like they were spazzing out. I couldn't focus on one thing for too long. I decided to get up, thinking of going to a fast-food restaurant for some water, unable to bear how dry my mouth was. But when I did, my body felt like it was being held down by weights, and I practically stumbled along the sidewalk, thinking I was going to fall over with every step I took. I managed to cross the street and found I had to brace myself against the walls of the buildings as I continued on. When I saw people pass by, just the thought of "try to act normal" kept repeating itself in my head. All that did was make it more obvious that I was fucked up. Always trying to focus on being normal just made me fuck it up even more.

When I passed by a couple who were getting into their car, I saw them look at me, and I quickly glanced away. I heard the woman say, "He looks like he's on drugs."

The man replied, "Yes, you can always tell."

I managed to make it to the restaurant, which had very few people inside. I stood at the front counter and asked for some iced water, which felt far more difficult than it should've been. After each word, I momentarily forgot what I was going to say next. I thought the cashier was looking at me weird, but when she came back with my water, I realized that she didn't have a face at all. It was just a blurry mess of flesh, moving slightly as she spoke to me words that I didn't hear. Uncomfortable, I just nodded wearily and took my water, turning away and looking for a place to sit down.

I found a booth close to a window and slumped down in the seat. I removed the cap of the cup and chugged all of the water, but none of it helped. With all of the water in the cup gone, I just started to take the ice out and chew it. That seemed to work a little better, but my mouth was still horribly dry after all of it was gone. In fact, things just started to feel so much worse. My skin just felt like it was too tight on my body, and every time I moved just slightly, I was overcome with waves of dysphoria. Even worse was the fact that the presence of the parasite inside of me just seemed to grow even more and more pronounced, rather than fading into the background like I expected it to---it was wet and slimy, sticking to the sides of my esophagus as it moved up and down, and then pressing soddenly between my ribs. I thought I could feel it moving under my skin, a lump pressing against my clothes and writhing whenever I moved and I couldn't sit still I couldn't relax, my perceptions increasingly oppressive on every area of my mind.

I suddenly felt like I needed a cigarette, and reached into my pocket for one. When I retrieved the cigarette and held it to my lips, it was already lit for me, which I found to be rather convenient. I took a few minutes smoking the cigarette, and it seemed to relax me a little, which was a relief. But a brief flicker of awareness came to me, and I remembered that I didn't even smoke. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, the cigarette disappeared from my hand. It was then I decided it would be a good idea that I just ought head back to the dorm and go to sleep, since I was feeling completely fucked up. There wasn't any way I was going to get any better just wandering around the streets.

I left the restaurant and started heading back the way I came. The ground felt mushy beneath my feet, as though I was walking through mud. There were less people around, though the people I did see didn't have any faces, just like the cashier. They all must've been looking at me, I was sure, and they were saying words that I couldn't hear or understand. I tried to walk a little faster, wanting to get away from them.

I stopped at a street corner, having forgotten where I was and where I was trying to go. I looked around for the street signs, but I couldn't find any. Confused, I said aloud and slurry, "Who took all of the street signs?" I heard someone behind me say something in response, but when I turned around, there wasn't anyone there. I called out, "What did you say?" but was only met with silence.

Somehow, I ended up back at the park, with little memory of the walk in between. I was looking for something, not sure what, but was immediately distracted when I caught sight of a body hanging from a tree. Moving closer, I saw that it was Alaya. Unlike everyone else, she actually had a face. She was hung by a plain rope, her body swaying side to side. Every time I blinked, her swinging motion would reset, as though she were an animated GIF.

I stopped in front of her and saw that she was crying. It seemed like her tears would just never stop, and watching her, I felt horribly guilty. My tongue feeling thick and heavy in my mouth, I barely managed to ask, "Why are you crying?"

She sniffled, and responded, "Because...because you won't have sex with me."

I felt even worse as she said this. "No, no, Alaya, I promise, I'll do whatever you want. Please don't be sad." I started undoing my belt, but suddenly, I blinked again, and she disappeared. There was nothing but blood left, pouring down from the tree as persistently as water from a leaking faucet. I stepped back, afraid of getting it on my shoes, and then tried to remember what I was even doing here.

Looking around at the dark and desolate park, I was overcome with a horrible sense of childlike fear. It's too dark, I thought. Too dark and too empty and too quiet. There were monsters hiding in the bushes, waiting for when I would turn my back. I wanted so badly to leave and go home, to hide underneath my blankets. So I turned and ran, trying to get out of the park, but the park went on forever, becoming a forest with darkness at every turn. I knew I was being chased, but by what, I didn't dare turn around to see what it was. I just wanted to get away. As I was running, I saw more hanging bodies, all of which were people I recognized. They weren't alive like Alaya was, instead possessing this horrifyingly empty and dead expression on each one of their faces, each swaying slightly in the wind.

I don't know what I tripped on, but I tripped and I fell onto hard concrete. Slowly, I stood up, and saw the door to my house sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. Relieved, I walked inside, and was met with the sight of the living room and the smell of food being cooked. I wasn't exactly sure which food I was smelling, for it was too vague, but it smelled good nonetheless.

As I stood there, my dog, Nova, walked up to me, excited that I was home. She was a border collie that we had while I was in elementary school, who died when she was hit by a car after getting out of the backyard. She looked just like she did when my sister and I found her in the middle of the road: bloody, broken, flesh ripped off of her face. I leaned over to pet her, and she wagged her tail as I did, trying to lick my hand.

I felt myself laugh quietly, dreamily. "Aww, you're so cute," I said.

When I looked up, I saw my mom walking out of the kitchen, wearing an apron and an oven mitt. She smiled at me and said, "I just finished making dinner. You're home right in time."

"What's for dinner?"

She said something that I couldn't hear, then said, "I'm going to take Nova for a walk. Do you wanna come?"

I didn't get the chance to say anything before she walked over and attached the leash to Nova's collar. I watched as they both walked towards the front door and dissolved into the floor completely. I turned around to look at the living room again, and when I blinked, everything became dark and silent. There was no warm lighting, no comforting smell of home-cooked food, just darkness and cold emptiness.

Then I felt it again. That godforsaken creature crawling around inside of me as though it were filled with unbridled excitement. It squirmed its way up my throat, and I gagged. I retched and coughed and convulsed, all until I managed to vomit up the parasite completely. It fell to the ground with a sick splat, covered in fluid that regurgitate fluid. It looked just how I expected: a fleshy pulsating sack that looked like an insect had lost its exoskeleton. It had legs on either side of it, skinny and black and centipedal, and a long pointed tail that looked like the stinger of a stingray.

I watched in horror as the creature convulsed, its skin rippling and bubbling up as though something was climbing out from inside of it. A hand broke through its skin, and with that chipped red nail polish and those pale bony fingers, I immediately knew whose hand that was. Her other hand pushed through next, and she clawed her way out, pulling herself to her feet, completely decimating what the parasite was. She stood in front of me, looking at me with that stupid fucking drunken smile.

She was wearing exactly what she was wearing that night: that weathered down red Paramore shirt, those black skinny jeans that didn't even look black anymore, that cheap jewelry that her ex boyfriend had given her. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed. She had come home heavily intoxicated. "Jake," she said, voice thick with fluid sticking to the back of her throat, spilling from between her lips, "Do you even know how to kiss a girl?"

I stepped back, shaking my head. The memories were vibrant in my head, coming back to me all in a violent rush. I knew exactly what was going to happen next. "No," I pleaded. "No, no."

She stepped closer, her balance uncoordinated. "How are you going to be a good boyfriend to Rachel if you can't even do that? I can show you how to do it right."

"No," I said again. "Stay away from me, don't touch me, please."

Without any acknowledgement of what I said, on and on, "You're such a fucking pussy. No, we're not doing anything wrong. This is exactly how it's supposed to go."

She pushed me to the ground and climbed over me, her limbs moving and twisting unnaturally, like a spider crawling over its prey. Her smile only grew wider, her eyes pointing in completely different directions, and drool dripping from her mouth in thick rivulets, spilling over my face. I cried like a fucking child, whining and pleading for her to stop, for her to leave me alone.

"What's wrong?" she asked. It didn't even matter that she asked, because she just kept repeating this question as I babbled out broken answers.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?"

Again and again, a tinny screech like that of a banshee in my face and in my throat, in my skull and in my chest,

"WHAT'S WRONG, JAKEY?"