Nočná mora

Nightmare

Martin Repa

I save the changes and close my laptop. I'm exhausted, but I fight the drowsiness. I'm afraid it will come again. Tossing and turning in bed, I feel terrible. I've tried everything, but nothing helps. Yet, living without sleep isn't an option. There's only one thing left, getting used to its presence.

The door creaks, the floorboards groan. It moves through the bedroom. My arms and legs are paralyzed, I can’t move my head. Slowly, it approaches. It stops. Out of sight. I feel the chill, and shivers run down my body.

“Get out! Please!” I scream, my throat burning. But my lips, frozen with cold, release no sound.

It’s all in your head. Move a finger, and it will vanish. I urge my mind.

“I hear you. I’m here,” it whispers into my ear, clutching my heart in cold hands.

My eyes dart around. I cry. Out of fear.

“Nightmare, nightmare, don’t come near my bed until you’ve counted the sand in the sea, the stars in the sky, the roads on the earth,” I chant the incantation.

“I hear you. I’m here,” it shouts.

Leave me alone, I beg silently.

“Shh! I like it here,” it murmurs, covering my face with a pillow and pressing down.

I scream for help, pulling at invisible chains binding me. I’m suffocating.

“Enough. Sit up!” it commands, allowing me to breathe.

I sit up, gasping for air.

This time it’s different, I think as I turn my head.

It’s gone! I feel relieved.

Suddenly, I feel a weight on my shoulders. I cry out in horror. It’s sitting on me.

“Stand up! Let’s go!” it orders, tugging at my hair.

“Where?” I ask as I stand.

“I’ll show you my world so you can get to know me. Roommates should introduce themselves, don’t you think?” it laughs shrilly.

“But…”

“Move!” it kicks my chest so hard I lose my breath.


“Move it! Morning’s almost here,” it rushes me across a meadow. Night moths flutter out of the grass. Despite the dimness, I can make out the colors of their wings.

“There?” I point to the treetops shimmering in the moonlight.

“That’s the forest of dreams. We’re not going there,” it grumbles.

“Then,” I gesture toward bushes resembling grapevines. Fireflies illuminate them with an orange hue.

“The orchard of thoughts? No! Every evening, thoughts are planted in fertile soil and grow by morning. We’re seeking something eternal. I’ll show you the valley,” it pushes me forward with its heels.

I drag my feet; the weight is unbearable. I’d rather collapse. I hope that once we reach the illuminated valley, it will let me rest.

“The clock strikes two,” a night watchman shouts, as if to welcome us. He pays us no attention and continues lighting stars on a long pole.

Crowds of figures, light and dark, scurry through the narrow streets.

“What are they?” I whisper.

“The moonlit ones are murderers. They kill the darkness every night. There are more of them, and less darkness with each passing night. The shadowed ones are thieves. They steal sleep.”

“Where are they rushing to?”

“Time is short; morning is near. Quickly! Onward!” it commands.

“To where?” I turn at the crossroads.

“Deeper into the valley,” it strikes, knocking the breath out of me again.


We leave the city lights behind. The landscape changes. The ground is covered with thousands of fireflies. Their abdomens flicker in a dying glow, like fallen stars. The sky is empty. The moon hides behind a dark cloud. Beneath my feet, I feel crushed stones. Night moths hang motionless in the air, as if suspended by invisible threads.

“Stop! We’re here!” it tugs my hair.

“What will we do here?”

“Meet. Nothing will disturb us,” it chuckles.

“I don’t want to! I don’t like it here!”

“Oh, but you will. Nothing grows or fades here. I’ve lived here forever.”

“Why?!”

“Time doesn’t exist here. No fleeting moments, only eternity.”

“Please, let me go!” I plead, summoning the last of my strength.

“See you tomorrow,” it whispers into my ear as the weight lifts.

I move my fingers and wake up.


I lie in the meadow, front-row seat to the best view. Crickets play their life’s symphony, and the stars shine without the watchman. I’ve planted a thought, walked through the forest. Collected more moments than yesterday. I feel she won’t come tonight...