I like turning my dreams into short stories. I feel I have more vivid dreams than most people. I have tactics I’ve developed on how to remember them. A lot of my dreams are very existential horror. Here is one of my more recent bangers.
I woke up in a library. It was beautiful, but old. Broken green marble floor tiles that crackled beneath my feet; rotten wood bookshelves with rusted guilded plaques. Even the accompanying light fixtures were covered in cobwebs, and any surface was coated in a layer of dust. Others woke up here with me. No one knew each other. Greetings were foregone as we all understood what we needed to do. Leave, so we can figure out where we were. The issue was that we couldn't find out how to do so. There were no doors, no windows, only a set of rusty brass gates that were locked on the second floor. Like everything else in the library, it was too ornate in its design to have been made in this century. Behind it lied only darkness. The only thing everyone was certain of was that there was no choice forward other than opening that gate. "Over here, I found something I think you guys should see!" One of the strangers beckoned. I walked around behind one of the bookshelves to find the horror of several skeletons. They were in matching collared shirts with name tags. Positioned in seats with desks in front, at the top of each desk was a radial-dial phone. It was all as dusty as everything else; however, with this area being more well lit than the rest of the library, I started to recognize what it was. "These skeletons look real! What is going on?"
"What's going on is that someone wanted us to see this. That's why it's well lit over here. Which means we were doing something right. What I want to know is, Why is a fundraising call center in a library?"
I was interrupted by one of the phones as it began to ring. I was the closest to the phone. Slowly, my curiosity overpowered my fear.
"h-Hello?"
"Hello Sir, How are you doing today?"
"...fine? ...and you?"
"I'm doing just great; thank you for asking! My name is Mandy, and I'm calling you to inform you that your local library needs your help."
"W-wait wait. Stop. What? Where are you calling from?"
"If I could just have a moment of your time, I represent a charity foundation that..."
I stopped listening when I realized the name tag on the skeleton's chest. The voice on the other line would not stop talking. It was only trying to get donations. I hung up.
"Who was it?"
"I-I think it wasor at least supposed to be... the skeletons."
"What?"
"Yeah, the nametag matched the name of the person on the phone."
"This is absured!" one woman replied.
"I agree, but itor *she* wouldn't answer any questions. Just kept trying to sell me something."
One of the strangers then pointed out that there were brass notches at the base of "Mandy's" skull.
I was beginning to realize that my circumstances were very clearly designed. Perhaps even the people I'm with are not random. It soon became clear that the skull was the key to opening the gate.
"I'm tired of this; if decapitating a corspe is necessary to get out of this shithole, I'm all for it." One man bolstered. And we did just that, and the gate was finally open. The gate led outdoors, but you would hardly know by seeing it. There was no wind, no change in temperature. The overcast sky hung so low that one wouldn't even know what time of day it was, and the fog was so thick that none of us could see far at all. All that lied before us was a hedge maze. Each of us went in. There was no choice; it was the only way forward. It was a normal hedge maze; however, briefly, I swore I saw a skelital horse running off in the distance, but who couldn't be sure of anything at this point? One by one, people got separated, until I was the only one left. I lost all track of time. As soon as I was about to give up, I found myself at the end of the maze. It led back to the library. Everyone was already there, and they were waiting for me.
"Good, you're all okay, but I'm disappointed we didn't get out."
"Don't be!" a woman replied. "Look! There's a reward for completing the maze! look in your pocket." She was right. In my pocket was a brass coin. "What do I do with this?" "Give it to me," I did and she returned with a drink.
"Yeah, there is a machine in the library; it only accpets these coins aparently"
"That's great, but any news on how to get the hell out of here?"
"Well, kinda, but not really. The soda machine wasn't here before. So thats progress, right?"
"YEAH, AND NIETHER WAS THIS MOVIE PROJECTER, WE CAN WATCH SOME OLD MOVIES NOW!" A man shouted from across the room. The consensus was that we should all take a break for a while and enjoy the library because we completed the maze. I disagreed but obliged for the sake of the group. So I sat down, talked with the woman, and enjoyed my drink. "Thanks for the drink; are you doing okay? What's your name by the way?" "I'm doing just great; thank you for asking! My name is Mandy." My heart sank in my chest. Only then did I understand. Maybe I was the only one that could. The curse of this library. Perhaps it has an exit, perhaps not. Its danger does not lie in poltergeists or homocidal clowns. The curse is the game. The illusion of progress. The illusion of choice. This place rewards you just enough not to remember you're in a nightmare. It spits in your face by telling you you will stay, you will be a part of it, and you will be happy. This evil place has no true reward. You will donate to the library, but not with any real money. This is the library, and you will make a lifetime donation.
