It Must Have Been a Dream

Originally sent to newsletter subscribers in June, 2024. Sign up for the free newsletter now to receive exclusive stories months in advance.

You were little the first time it happened. You barely even remember it now, the time you woke up in a room of colors. You seem to recall watching yourself playing on the carpet of the living room, watching your mom brushing her teeth, watching your dog rummaging through the trash in your bedroom.

Though it’s faded, you remember watching yourself get a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer. You watched as you snuck up behind your mom and waited, the scissors held up high. You watched yourself lunge forward, just as she turned around and screamed in horror. You watched as the scissors cut her arm before clattering to the ground as your body passed out in the gathering pool of blood.

You remember waking up on the bathroom floor, crying. You remember your mom whirling around, scared to see you on the floor beside her. She swore she didn’t see you come in. You begged for her forgiveness. You swore it wasn’t you, that it was someone else in your body.

But your mother’s arm was fine. There was no knife on the floor with you.

“It must have been a dream.” That’s what she said. That’s what they all said.

Over time, that’s what you started to believe. It was all just a dream.

#

There’s that sound again. The humming. The one you’ve been hearing for weeks, always behind you and slightly to the left. You glance over your shoulder but, just like every other time, there’s nothing. So on you walk, under the canopy of leaves covering you from the light drizzle that has started falling, trying to ignore the unshakeable feeling that you’re being followed, stalked like some helpless prey.

The street light flickers up ahead, and in the brief moment of darkness, a single shining white eye peers back at you. You jump backward. A yelp escapes your throat before your hand jerks up to cover your mouth. The light flickers again. It’s only the reflector of a kid’s bicycle.

You laugh aloud, though the sound rings hollow. You tell yourself you’re being silly. You know, deep down, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You just let that woman get in your head, the one with the matted black hair living in the parking lot of the swimming pool. The one who knew more about you than she should have. The one who told you that it has its eyes set on you, that you’re in for a wild ride. You should have just kept walking.

Maybe, if you had, you wouldn’t be so scared.

You just had to argue with her, push for more. You just had to see how much she knew, to see if you could justify these weird feelings you’ve been having.

Ping!

Your heart jumps and, suddenly, the weird lady is the least of your concern. It’s Ray, asking where you are. Even now, after two years of living together, you get nervous when he texts. If only you could tell him the truth. You settle for a quick text telling him to go to bed, that you’ll be home soon.

“Remember to turn on the camera system when you get here.”

“You got it. Good night, Ray.”

“Good night.”

The rain stops and a low, thick fog settles over the street. The humming tickles at your ear once again, but you force yourself to look straight ahead. There’s no point in looking. You know there’s nothing back there.

Huughh

A blast of hot air hits the back of your neck.

You whirl around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you swing wildly at whoever—whatever—is breathing down your neck. You swing again and again, stumbling backward and spinning around before coming to a stop.

“Who are you?” you call. “Show yourself.”

A light flicks on in the house across the street. The door opens. You wave at the gentleman, Mr. Frederick, and laugh. “Sorry, just singing a song. I’ll see you at the festival this weekend?”

The normally jovial Mr. Frederick doesn’t respond. He just stares, first at you and then through you, at something beyond, his face blank. With a shrug, you continue on your way. The humming starts up again. This time you turn. Mr. Frederick is still standing on his porch, still staring at you. And he’s humming.

You turn and run as fast you can, never looking back as you sprint the last three blocks. You’re panting by the time you reach your front door. You throw yourself inside, barely catching the door before it slams shut and wakes Ray.

It’s totally dark inside, but at least you’re home. You’re safe.

And you’re exhausted.

You rush through your nighttime routine, eager to crawl into bed with a box of crackers and fall asleep watching some random sitcom. Your teeth are brushed, your hair combed. You’re about to go to bed when you notice a red spot on your cheek. You should probably wash your face.

After scrubbing away with the exfoliating wash, taking particular care to clean your cheeks and nose, you bend down to rinse, splashing water on your face. The humming starts up again, but you force yourself to ignore it. Maybe you should get your ears checked.

Huughh

The same sound. The same hot air.

You want to jerk up, to scream, to cry. But you don’t. You splash one last handful of water onto your chin and slowly, slowly, look up.

The reflection in the mirror, your reflection, is in the wrong place. It’s not bent over the sink, as you are now. It’s staring with the same blank expression as Mr. Frederick, its eyes focused on the exact spot where the humming seemed to originate. You tilt your head ever so slightly, trying to see what the reflection of you is staring at.

As soon as you move, the reflection of yourself meets your eyes.

You freeze.

It opens its mouth and screams.

You cover your ears and drop to the floor, the wail piercing the air around you. You rock back and forth, your hands clasped to your head and your eyes buried in your knees.

All of a sudden, Ray’s arms are around you. “What’s wrong? Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. What’s going on?”

You point to the mirror.

“What? What is it?”

You open your eyes, the light blaring bright overhead. Rising up onto your knees, you glance at the mirror. Your reflection follows your every movement, as it always has. Everything is as it should be.

“What are you even doing up?” Ray asks.

“I just got home. I was getting ready for bed.”

“I thought you said you were almost home a long time ago? What were you doing?”

“I was almost home when I messaged you. I was only a couple of blocks away, and I was moving pretty quick in the rain.”

Ray looks at you, his face serious. “It’s almost three o’clock in the morning. You texted me at ten thirty.”

You search for an explanation, your eyes constantly darting back to the mirror. “I don’t know. I guess I fell asleep while I was washing my face or something. I honestly don’t know.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, more genuine than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Just tired.”

“Come on,” he says as he helps you to your feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You follow Ray to your room, apologize for waking him, and crawl into your bed. Pulling the blanket up around your head to avoid seeing your body length mirror, you feel the weight of the day weighing on your mind. Within minutes, the allure of sleep beckons you closer.

In your final moment of wakefulness, you hear the humming once again, though this time it comes from directly before you.

#

You awaken on the floor in the middle of a room shining with prismatic light, a kaleidoscope of rainbows illuminating the barren ground. As you slowly turn your head from side to side, you find that the six walls are transparent, though the images beyond are warped and bent. You stand and approach one of the walls, its image becoming clearer as you draw nearer.

Standing directly before the wall, you find yourself looking into your own bathroom. You see the cap still left off of your face wash, the place where you dropped toothpaste on the counter, now dried and flaking. Though the lights are off, the image is as sharp and bright as if it were the middle of the day.

Confused, you turn and stand before another wall. This time, you see Ray, asleep in his bed. The clock beside his bed reads 3:27. Nothing is out of place, his clothes for the day neatly folded on his desk, his collection of memorabilia arranged perfectly on the shelves.

Continuing on to the next wall, you see your own room. You’re asleep in your bed, as well. “This is a weird dream,” you say to yourself. The body, your body, moves.

You scream and fall backward onto the floor, surrounded by the images of your home. You run to another wall and pound against it. Beyond, you see part of your living room and the hallway leading to the front door. You spin in a circle, hitting everything in your reach.

You freeze.

Something was different.

Turning slowly to the right, you see yourself standing before the wall looking in on your bedroom, staring at you. You yelp and retreat as far as you can, until your back is against the opposite wall. You scream again, pinching your arm in an attempt to wake yourself from this nightmare.

You, the other you, holds its finger up to its lips.

You watch in shock, unable to move, as it retreats from the wall, the mirror, and leaves. You spin around, searching for it in each of the walls, until you see it emerge where you least expected: in Ray’s room.

The other you shakes his shoulder, stirring him from sleep. “What’s going on? What is it?” Ray says. The other you just motions with its finger. In his half-asleep state, Ray follows. It pulls him along, guiding him into its bed.

You watch as it nestles into the crook of Ray’s arm, its head resting on his chest as he falls into a deep slumber. From somewhere beneath the pillow, the other you pulls out a kitchen knife. It holds it up, the light from the streetlight outside reflecting off of the knife like an eye.

The knife slashes downward.

“No!” you cry out as you dive toward the wall.

#

You’re in your bed, the soft blanket tucked underneath you as you shiver form the cold. You try to move, to crawl under the blanket, but you’re too weak. Your arms feel like lead. And it’s just so cold. Even Ray’s body heat isn’t enough to keep you warm.

There’s a familiar humming behind you. You jerk to the side as much as your feeble body will allow and hear a squelching sound beneath you. All at once, a burning fire erupts in your side, leaving your body sweating despite the intense chill.

You look down, somehow already knowing what you’ll see.

The knife handle sticks out of your stomach, reddened and slick from the rush of blood pouring out of you. A series of conflicting feelings wash over you. Hot and cold. The pressure of the knife and the lightness of your head on the pillow. Panic and bliss.

“Please be a dream,” you croak through the blood that fills your mouth. “Please, just be another dream.”

Huughh

That same hot breath. You fight against the weight of your eyelids, fluttering your eyes open just far enough to get a good look at the mirror that rests against the far wall.

Your reflection stares back at you, standing before the mirror. It winks as a small point of light, like an eye, appears behind it and to its left.

You hear the familiar humming as your eyes fall closed for the final time.

“Very good.”

#

You awaken in the same room scattered with rainbows. Your hands clutch at your side, but the knife is gone. In fact, you feel fine.

Sure this is all some elaborate figment of your subconscious, you spin around and search desperately before a way out, feeling along every wall and crevice but never daring to look through the walls. It is only as you scratch and crawl around that you notice there is one thing different this time. There are seven walls.

Finally daring to look, you see that six of them are the same. One shows Ray’s room, one the bathroom, and one the living room and hallway. Next, it’s your room. The mattress is covered in white plastic. The corner of a blood stain is just barely visible on the carpet at the foot of the bed.

You feel yourself start to panic. Your heart is racing. Your thoughts are swimming.

What is going on?

Stumbling around, you find yourself face to face with yourself, your own face, mere inches from the wall. It’s you, but paler. In fact, it looks dead. You stare back, rooted in place and unable to speak. The reflection of you tilts its head to the side, looking behind you.

You whirl around, but the room is empty.

When you turn to face the new wall once again, the other you has retreated. It looks like a hospital room, or maybe a morgue. The other you climbs up onto an operating table and covers most of its body, complete with a stitched wound in its side, with a sheet, leaving only its face exposed.

Your mom comes into the room. Even without looking at the body, she sputters as tears threaten her eyes, then turns to speak with a doctor. The doctor agrees to give her a few moments, then she turns to leave.

Your mother’s back is to the other you. She looks up into the mirror in the corner of the room, directly into your eyes. She takes a deep breath and starts to hum.

Finally able to look at the body of the other you, she cries, falls to her knees, and cries some more. She apologizes more times than you can count, seemingly blaming herself for what has happened. She turns her vitriol on Ray, cursing his name and vowing to make sure he suffers for what he has done. You call out to her, begging her to understand, but she can’t hear you.

At last, when she seems to have no tears left to cry, your mother rises to her full height and covers the body’s face with the sheet. Your mother takes one last look up at the mirror to wipe her eyes. You reach out for her, unable to break through that barrier.

Behind her, the other you uncovers its face. It looks up at you, meeting your eye and reaching back for you. Your mother turns in surprise, but the other you has already returned to its place beneath the white sheet. Your mother turns to leave.

A shriek of horror emerges from the other you, the same scream you heard in your bathroom, Your mother runs back to its side, begging for the other you to wake up and swearing she will help it as she rips off the sheet. The body is motionless, though the cry carries on.

The doctor’s enter, and the screaming stops.

The doctor and several nurses drag your wailing mother from the room, even as she scratches and pleads with them to save you.

The humming starts again.

“Please, end this. Please, stop.” Tears roll down your cheeks as you cry out for it all to end.

Huughh

You feel the hot breath on your neck and stand up, the anger rising in your chest as your prepare to face whatever is causing this and put an end to it, once and for all. The other you is standing before the wall of the morgue, staring in at you. In fact, as you look around, there is a reflection of you at every wall. Each one of them wears the same blank expression as their eyes lock on you.

They wave and speak in unison. “Until next time.”

Everything goes black.

#

You wake up in Ray’s arms on the bathroom floor, crying and begging him to forgive you, swearing it wasn’t you, swearing someone was in your body, swearing you aren’t losing your mind.

Behind him, your reflection looks back at you.

Huughh

Your reflection shivers as a small point of light appears over its shoulder.

You hear a humming.

It winks.

The humming stops. Your reflection is normal. Everything is normal.

Ray pats you on the back and hugs you. “It must have been a dream.”

End.