"Four nights," the mystery man repeated again.
Yes, and what of it! Zach bit his lips to stop himself from saying. But what he really wanted to know was why this man was in his room, even if this was a dream.
"I've said nothin' these last few nights since ye seemed the quiet type, at least when there was daylight-" the voice spoke from the dark.
But Zach did not love the rustling he heard from the corner.
"But four. Bloody. Nights. Ye have ruined my sweet sleep," The voice repeated. Clearly tired and unhappy with Zach.
Zach tried to think about who he had recently angered at work or in his personal life that had invoked them to show up in his dream. No one in particular or perhaps everyone in particular? was the conclusion he came up with.
Then he heard the sound of metal clanging about as if this unknown person in the dark was assembling something. I know this is a dream, but I do not want to be maimed by some weapon, Zach told himself, trying to wake himself from this weird and highly realistic dream sequence. Maybe lucid dreams made you feel pain. Zach wasn't keen on finding out.
Zach was breathing heavily now, heart pounding. His arms stretched out to the wall, trying to find a switch to a light, but he felt nothing but the rough texture of unsanded wood.
Ouch, that was definitely a splinter, so lucid dreams can also induce realistic feelings such as pain. Noted!
Zach was still busy trying to pull one of the splinters that he felt in his hand when a match was struck out of nowhere, and an old, wrinkled hand was illuminated. It was lit too far from the figure's face, but Zach could tell by the shape that it was a burly man.
"Fuck. fuck. Fuck Holy-mother-shitballs," Zach blubbered in a panicked whisper.
"This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream." He must have repeated it a thousand times like some type of mantra, one that will wake him up.
"Yer better keep that yapping down! You'll wake the old hag," the man seethed out in an angry whisper. Well, at least it was the loudest whisper Zach had ever heard.
Old hag? There was another one of you in my dream, Zach thought.
"Uh-huh," Zach said with a nod. He wasn't sure the man saw since he stood in the dark. It was all he could say at that moment.
Wait a minute, why the hell am I being so submissive? Zach was troubled by his easy compliance. He mused if he didn't know it already, He knew for sure now that he would definitely die in a horror film.
The man brought the lit match to what looked like an old lantern lamp, the vintage kind you see displayed in a museum.
Wait, did I see that right? A freaking lantern? Umm, okay, go on, weird dream, keep getting weirder!
As the lantern lamp flickered, a soft, luminous, warm glow filled the room, Zach could finally look at the room and the mystery man better. Zach thought this dream was much better when there was no visual, as he ascertained everything.
The man's face was a sight. His face was tanned with deep creases all along his forehead and mouth. He had dark hair that was peppered with white along his hairline. His eyes seemed dark, but it was hard to know since the lantern didn't provide sufficient lighting, even in this small room. He wore a tunic-looking shirt that hung loosely on his small but defined shoulders. The man could have been between fifty and seventy years old for all Zach knew. Either way, this man looked like he could take on a bear and still have enough strength to take him down.
Zach found himself looking around and noticed that the room they were in was not familiar to any rooms he had ever been in; in fact, he thought it a crime that he first considered this a room at all, more like a pantry or a small storage room.
There were two beds on each side, both smaller than a standard single, too small to even call a bed. Zach would know since he had one of those during his college days. What this room had was more like a wooden palette stacked together, and his mattress was a sorry lump of whatever. From where he stood, he could tell it was more like a burlap sack filled with random materials.
The walls were wooden and rough, much like a barky tree trunk when they first cut it. By the way, they were asymmetrically nailed, and Zach could tell that no real care was put into building this place.
Then there were those windows he saw before, three little square frames with a crisscross metal mesh over them. As the wind blew, it lifted the dark, raggedy curtain, revealing that it didn't have a glass over it, letting the cold in and showing the weird yellowish-tinged half-moon. Not a streetlight.
Okay, interesting, he thought. He had to give himself credit for creating such a real-like place. Even the small minute details gave the feel of a dungy, damp residence. His complaints about his small apartment seemed silly compared to what he thought of this place.
"Boy, why the hell are you so rowdy in the evenings?" the man spoke, quietly observing Zach, who was taking in the room.
"Uh," Zach faltered in his speech, having almost forgotten about the man's existence. He turned his face and body towards him but kept close to the wall for support.
The man hacked out a phlegmy-sounding cough and then swallowed; Zach almost gagged at the sight and sound.
Then the man ran his hands through greasy strands of hair that fell across his face, and he said to Zach," I know the work is hard, especially for such a young boy, but you were the one who asked, begged for it."
Me? Beg for labour, nope, it can't be me, the thought ran through Zach's mind.
"Ah-" he started to say, but was interrupted.
"Look here, boy, if it's all too much for you, then you should quit it before you're in it any deeper," the older man said, then continued ", I mean, look at me, still working the floor for over three decades. You're young. You shouldn't be working a laborious manual job like this; better yet, you shouldn't be working at all and be enjoying life or going to school." The man finished his speech compellingly, but his voice revealed his tired state.
"Me? Begged for work? Laborious manual work? School?" Zach said in a small voice, mostly for himself, feeling incredulous at everything he heard.
First and foremost, he was not the type to beg for work, especially a laborious one. He worked in sales, which was as hard a job as he would ever do. Second, the man kept referring to him as a boy and even mentioned school, which threw him off. Maybe this was a sign from god that he should quit that darnjob. The thought briefly crossed his mind.
"Umm, sir-" Zach started, unsure how to refer to the man.
"I already told you Dreja is fine!" the man asserted.
"Dreja-"Zach started again, " wait, were you referring to me just now?"