The shambling darkness

Post somatic hallucinations; that's what my psychologist calls them. Merely images created by my subconscious as I wake. It seems that unlike most people, my body wakes up before my mind does, which results in a state of half sleep, not unlike that of a sleep walker. In a few delicately formulated phrases, Dr. Shawn O'Neil was able to explain the reasons behind my torturous childhood, plagued with the dark creations of my subconscious.

"Nothing to worry about really." He explained while chewing on his unlit pipe. "Many people suffer from the same disorder, it usually fades away after childhood."

"Shit Doc, I'm 26 now. Spare me the empathetic bullshit, what can I do about it?" I replied, perhaps a little harshly; I was never very diplomatic.

"Well now, I could prescribe you a medication that will lower the count of dopamine..." Dr. O'Neil began while waving his pipe around but stopped as he saw me glare at him.

"Ahem...I mean, it will slow down activity in your brain while you sleep which should stop you from dreaming..." He reformulated while frowning. "..but I cannot recommend such a drastic measure. Dreams are quite healthy, you see, they release stress and tension..."

"I'll take it." I interrupted.

"Really my boy, the best solution would be to train your mind; Understand that the hallucinations you suffer from are nothing but figments of your imagination. Holding them back could have serious repercussion on your psyche." Dr. O'Neil explained, reclining on his chair. "I recall a similar case in Boston, where a young man about your age seeked religious help to his post somatic hallucinations. Truly a shame, you see, instead of receiving practical help like you are right now, those witch doctors only reinforced his belief that the illusions were quite real; Demonic spirits sent to devour his soul if I remember correctly. The occurrences increased in severity and no amount of "spiritual" help could protect him. The poor man's sanity finaly failed and he ended his life in..."

"I said I would take the medication, don't patronize me, you don't have a clue what it feels like. To always be stalked, to live in fear inside your own house. I don't want to fight it, I can't make them go away with the wave of my hand. If the medication can stop them, then I'll take it. I'll deal with the repercussions." I flared.

"Calm down Richard. I'll write the prescription. Just keep in mind that those hallucinations are not real." O'Neil replied calmly.

"Yeah, whatever.." I thought. I truly did believe him however. I knew that the "things" that visited me at night were not real, that my mind brewed them up; but I was tired of fighting and most of all, I was tired.

I cannot recall a night where I truly slept soundly. I was constantly awakened by twisted creations slowly advancing toward me, whispering evil things. Shambling creatures of formless horror that made no sounds as they moved. Even on those rare and blessed nights on which they remained hidden, I received little rest from fear that they might still be lurking in the dark, scrambling within the walls like dark skinned rodents. The stress and the lack of sleep were already showing signs on my body and mind; Strands of gray hair sprouted here and there amidst auburn hair, I was gaunt and already showed signs of a weak back. What should have normally been the youthful gait and enthusiasm was replaced by bitterness and a fatalistic attitude unfit for one as young as me.