The Shape: a dream sequence

An interlude from one of the novels I'm working on, Far Beyond Driven.

The Shape: a dream sequence

Reign found himself laying face down on his bed at home. The night was heavy outside his open window and his bedroom was dark with its shadows, sent dancing by the murky orange light of a single flickering candle. He knew it was a dream. He had experienced the same dream many times before and it was always the same. He couldn't move, despite knowing that none of it was real, and as always there was a foreboding sense of dread. He knew what was coming, it always came, and so he waited. He waited, knowing that when It came he would panic. He would scream silently and thrash desperately within his paralyzed body. He waited for the looming presence of the Shape standing over him, savoring his fear. He waited for the cold feeling of great powerful fingers coiling into the back of his shirt, its jagged nails tearing at his flesh. He waited for the gut wrenching sensation of being torn from his bed like a helpless child. He waited...and waited...and then he was done waiting.
No! He cried franticly in his head. I've had enough of this! I'm tired of being stalked like prey. I won't lie here helpless anymore! I will fight, and the thing I once feared will cower before me.
Finally it came, the faint sound of its soft footsteps in the grass, careful, predatory. It's long deep breaths dissipated against the screen as it reached up to pull it from the window. Now Reign fought against his dream with all his strength, struggling to lift the invisible weight that held him still. He managed to get to his hands and knees then sit with his back to the wall as the Shape crept through the window, shrouded by a thick fog that poured in from the night, its movements lithe and dangerous. Reign got good look at the Shape for the first time as it stood before him. It was freakishly tall, with broad shoulders, jutting ribbs and long lanky arms that hung down past its knees. Its entire body was covered in mangy, black and gray hair. The putrid smell of it burned in Reigns nose. Part of him cringed away as it reached for him with its large, gruesome hands, but he wouldn't be taken this time. Not this time.
All of a sudden the weight was gone, and Reigns hand shot up and caught the Shapes wrist in a violent grip, its bones cracking beneath his dream induced power. The Shape bellowed a deep, bestial howl of pain, but it didn't fight his grasp. Its howl simply faded into ominous, mocking laughter.
"You won't take me this time monster." Reign spat, tightening his grip as he pulled the Shape closer. He would see this thing face to face. The Shape laughed at him again before it spoke, its voice full of amusement and contempt.
"Well boy, it's seems you have some conviction after all. That's good. That's real good. Peace through aggression, victory through violence. Those are the virtues you'll need if you’re to be rid of me."
"But then again," the Shape chuckled, "you just might become me in the process."
In that moment Reign finally knew why he could never move before this, why he wouldn't move. He was afraid to find out what part of him already knew, why the Shape's presence was so familiar. Fear smoldered in Reigns heart as he looked upon the monsters scarred, disfigured face, a twisted smile on its cracked, bleeding lips, for it was his own face that he saw leering back at him. It was the product of living in the throes of hatred and anger. The truth of his violent determination. The dream fell away in an instant, but the horror of it would be with him forever.

Author's Note

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