What The Hell Was That?

Almost everything was red, I remember that much. There were faces, people with dark hair surrounding me, pressing on me, their red skin highlighted with orange. There was a dissonant pulse in the background, anxiety-inducing instead of soothing, like fingernails on a chalkboard. Foreign languages, harsh consonants, vile sibilants, unfamiliar breaks in the pattern. More pressing, louder voices I couldn't make sense of. A claustrophobic, helpless feeling. Loud. Red. Close to panic.
   And a child screamed.

That's when I woke up. It was ten minutes after I climbed into bed.
   The first thing I said - out loud - was 'what the hell was that?' I haven't had a nightmare since I was a kid, but I'm counting that as one. My heart was beating like I'd just run for my life and I was just a little disoriented. My mouth was dry.
   I tried to figure it out, what could be going on in my head that I would fall asleep and have that kind of dream almost immediately? I don't have an answer, but it kind of freaked me out. Usually my dreams, when I remember to write them down, are innocuous, sometimes nostalgic happenings. I'm in my old car, or at a pizza factory. Not some sort of hellish torture chamber designed to offend every sense I have.
   I kind of want it to happen again, though. I want to write it down, pick it apart, analyze it. I want to see if I can find out what's behind it.
   At least I'm pretty sure that's what I want...


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