Creatures in dreams

It all started about a week ago. I was sitting at work as usual when a friend (let's call him Dima) called. He was very agitated. I don't remember what we talked about. It happens to everyone, though: when you're interrupted by a call from something important, it seems like the person on the other end is talking nonsense, but you listen out of politeness and obediently say "oh." That evening, Dima called again. This time he was scared, talking about crocodiles and the return of monsters, and there was some kind of static and jumbled noise in the background (it's worth mentioning that he doesn't even have a cat). It's a perfect scenario for a horror movie, but when you hear this from someone who's not quite right, you just send them to bed. That's what I did.

The next morning, I was expecting a call, because yesterday, Dima didn't seem inclined to heed my advice to go to bed when I turned off my phone for the night. But he didn't call. That evening, his mother called and asked for help with the funeral—for some reason, she was sure I knew everything. You can imagine my state of mind. Dima's body was still awaiting autopsy, and I was dutifully helping my friend's mother with the cemetery plot, the funeral service, and organizing the wake. When I finally got to Dima's apartment with his mother, I was shocked by the sight. It looked like he hadn't left his room for over a week, even though he was a very sociable, hard-working person. His mother took this for granted—to every mother, we're all slobs, especially when we live separately. But I was there often, and the mess astonished me. I asked his mother to give me the computer—I told her there were photos of Dima that I needed, and that I would also save them for her, since she wasn't very computer-savvy.

That evening, I learned the autopsy results: my friend had died of starvation and exhaustion about a week ago. But he called my mother and me literally the day before yesterday, which is why the body was discovered so late. There was no mistake—Dima's body had already begun to decompose and smelled like a corpse that hadn't been fresh for a while. To say I was uneasy is an understatement: the smell of a corpse was nauseating, and what the pathologist had told me gave me a headache.

When I got home, I quickly removed the hard drive from my computer. If Dima had been sitting in his room for over a week without sleep or food, I hoped to find the cause on his computer. A search of recently modified files found documents, memos, and one saved image. Opening it, I saw a pair of seated animals or people, although neither word describes the creatures in the image well. Two pupil-less, predatory faces stared into space...

When the phone rang, I tore myself away from the image and went to answer it, glancing at my watch along the way. It was already one in the morning, but I didn't immediately pay attention (although, according to the clock, I should have been staring at the picture for over three hours). Picking up the phone, I heard Dima's voice and fell into a completely mute stupor. Everything that followed was like a blur: the world instantly lost color, everything turned black and white, two monsters roamed the apartment, searching for me with empty eyes—they had nothing else to look for. I ran to my room and locked the door. The colors returned, the world became colorful again.

A rational explanation for what had happened immediately appeared: I had simply been sitting at the computer for too long and fallen asleep. It had all been a dream—the call, the monsters. But after such an awakening, I didn't feel refreshed for long. I lay down on the bed and decided to sleep a little longer. The nightmare returned, and the monsters reappeared. Two terrifying, plasticine-like monsters were searching for me; the dream became even more terrifying and real, the black-and-white world seemed real. I was also in complete control of my body in it, not watching from somewhere outside, as happens in dreams. I was sitting in the room, and those two had already begun to break down the fragile door...

I hadn't slept for two days. The first thing I saw when I woke up was their image on the computer screen. It was what helped me understand that I was in reality. I left the room and went to eat, drink, and continue living—until sleep took hold of me again. The most dangerous enemy, which, if you resist, takes you by force and attrition. Sooner or later, I fell asleep to find out how far those creatures had progressed in hacking at my door. I was convinced that when they were finished, I would be finished too.

Today's dream was unusual: I was watching myself from the outside, through someone else's eyes, and I was not in control of the situation. That is, for anyone, the dream would have been ordinary and pleasant, but I was afraid that when the dream lost my control, the creatures would break through and I wouldn't be able to do anything. And that's what happened—the door gave way, and one after another, they entered the room. I wanted to scream, but nothing came of it. The creatures were devouring the one who was blocking their entry. They did it without any malice, just like a normal routine, with awkward, slow, plasticine movements. Then they turned toward the one through whose eyes I was watching the dream, and that was it.

I woke up, and I was alive. Everything was fine, except for the fact that I wet myself a little.

The only sounds that emerged from the nightmare into the real world were the sounds so similar to those with which the two creatures were devouring me.