Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'*

I opened my eyes with a start. My sleep-befuddled mind gradually took in where I was.

I was sitting on a chair by the fire. Looking around, I noticed I was in the kitchen.

By my side on a small table was a glass of red wine with a pink lipstick smudge on the rim.

Looking down, I could see that I was wearing a dress. I recognized the dress; it was the one that I had been wearing in the dream.

My black nylon covered legs were stretched out in front of me; the sandals were the ones in my dream too!

What the fuck was going on here. Perhaps I was still dreaming.

I pinched myself and could feel the pain. Do you feel pain if you are dreaming?

I wanted to get up, but felt rooted to the chair. I couldn't move!

I wasn’t scared. People like me don’t scare easily. There must be a logical explanation.

Perhaps I’m not well; I remember getting chilly as I changed for bed. I also remember waking up with my nightdress soaked in sweat. Maybe I have a fever and I’m still in bed. This must be a hallucination.

There was a bang and the door flew open. A man was standing there, knife in his hands. It was the man in the dream, this was unreal. He was coming towards me.

‘Robert, no, what are you doing. I can explain!’

What the hell was going on? I had no control over what I was saying.

‘Pretend that you are a girl, eh? Lead me along and make me fall for you? I found out about you. You are nothing but a queer in a dress, you bastard.’

‘Thought you could make a fool out of me? No one treats me like this and gets away with it. You are going to pay for doing this, if it’s the last thing I do.’

He thought I was this girl. It’s a dream, it must be. I had no control over what I was saying or the actions of the body I was in. It was as if I was a spectator, yet the body felt real. I could sense my heart thumping, the sweat breaking out all over me. I was trembling uncontrollably. That was it. It was part of the hallucination. I was obviously ill. I needed help and hoped that I would wake up soon. This felt too real to me.

He came after her; I could see that he meant to kill her. I found myself getting up and running from the room. I was trying to stay calm but it all seemed so real. It must be a nightmare. It didn’t make sense. I had no control and I just went along for the ride, seeing things through the eyes of this person I was sharing a body with. A name popped into my head, Paula, this must be the woman’s’ name.

She tried to stop and take off her shoes, but Robert was too close she had to get away fast. I could feel her fear, the gasps of her breath, the panic that she felt as Robert chased her through the house with a knife; convinced that he was intent on killing her.

Paula/I ran through the house, he was like a maniac; he hated Paula and was insane with hatred.

‘Robert, please… No! Have mercy. I love you. Don’t hurt me!’

Paula screamed again for him to stop and show some forgiveness as we rushed up the stairs. I could feel her voice go hoarse with her screaming and shouting.

Robert was following close behind and he was shouting for Paula to stop.

About half way up, one of Paula’s heels broke. She couldn’t take the shoe off, there was no time.

Gasping for breath, Paula hobbled into the bedroom and slammed the door closed.

Paula frantically looked for the key, but it wasn’t in the lock so she grabbed a chair and with sweaty hands jammed it against the doorknob.

Suddenly, there was a loud thumping at the door.

‘Let me in.’ he shouted.

‘When you calm down. We need to talk.’

‘I don’t want to talk to you. You lied to me. I wanted to marry you; have kids, everything and now this!'

He banged on the door again. He was screaming and ranting now. This must be a nightmare. Things like this don’t happen. I don’t believe in ghosts or any sort of afterlife, that was for mugs. The only thing important is power.

Paula put her hands over her ears and eyes. If it was up to me, I would have stared him in the face. I'm no coward, but hey, this was not real.

Paula huddled down in the corner, shaking with fear. I had no fear. What was there to be afraid of? I was lying in my bed with some sort of bug and it was making me see things.

The chair fell on the floor. I could hear the door open. Paula looked up.

The look on Roberts face told it all. He was beyond reason; he had gone to that place that sane people never go. He had crossed the line. The dribble going down his chin, the look in his eyes; he wasn’t there, just some madman out for revenge. He was grinning and coming toward us with that huge knife.

‘Please!’ Paula whispered.

He pulled the wig off, looked at it with a puzzled expression then threw it in the fire.

Turning back, he hit Paula across the face and I could instantly feel the pain.

Paula fell back and in an instant he was coming at her, me, us…I don’t know, with the knife.

I was too wrapped up in this. I could feel everything, the pain, anguish, terror. It seemed like it was me he was going after. I could'nt sense Paula being there anymore, just me!

I tried hard to get back to reality and screamed in my head. ‘Wake up, wake up. It’s a dream, it’s only a dream.’

I shut my eyes and found that I suddenly had control over the body I was in!

I quickly covered my face with my arms. I was shit scared, alright, damn it, I admit it.

I couldn’t look. Perhaps when I opened them again, all this would have gone away and my fever, if that is what it was, would be gone.

I screamed as I felt the knife cutting into my arms. Robert slashed away without mercy.

He then violently pulled my bloodstained arms away from my face and I looked into the eyes of a madman.

‘Time to die.’

I shut my eyes and felt the knife plunge into my neck.

He was laughing as I heard him run out of the room.

******************************************************************************************************

I opened my eyes.

Looking down I could see the blood on my arms and legs. My nylons were torn and ruined, funny I should think of that at a time like this.

There was a bloody pool growing in front of me. I felt my neck and could feel the red gore pulse out of me, covering my hand. I was getting weak and there was a sort of fog in front of my eyes.

I looked up and saw some figures appearing out of the fog.

I recognised the figures; they were Robin Smith; with his wife and child standing in the background. I had killed them just a few hours ago. What were they doing here?

Robin came up to me and looked down. He had a neat hole in his forehead where I had shot him.

It was getting dark now and the fog was thicker, swirling around me. Robin leaned over and grabbed me by the arms, hauling me up.

I was pulled up as if I weighed nothing more than a feather and the fog suddenly lifted away slightly.

‘Robin you are dead. How can you be here in my dreams?’

Robin looked at me and smiled. It wasn’t a warm and friendly smile. It was cold, as cold as the house we were standing in.

‘What dream? Look Mark,’

He pointed behind me and I turned to see the body lying there, blood covering her pretty dress, arms outstretched and her eyes and mouth wide open in death.

‘I don’t understand. This is a dream.’

‘No, it’s your nightmare and mine also. We killed people to gain power, through drugs and prostitution, we made lives a misery. You killed me, then my wife and child. Why you killed them, I don’t know but I am tarred with the same brush and I am paying for my crimes now. You have killed countless more than I have and you will be paying for it too, forever. Look out of the window.’

I went over and looked out. It was foggy but I could see thousands of faces staring at me. I knew that these were the faces of the people that I had killed, personally or indirectly and I now dreaded the consequences.

This could not be happening, I looked down and saw that I was wearing the clothes that I had been stabbed and slashed in. I could still feel the pain of my wounds. It was real and with an awful truth of understanding, I knew that this was my fate, to walk the earth being pursued by those who I had murdered and feeling the pain where I had been slashed and stabbed. This was not a dream or nightmare; it was my reality, one that I would never wake up from.

I felt myself go through the closed window somehow and out to the grounds below. There were outstretched hands coming toward me and I fell to my knees as I was overwhelmed by the walking dead.

…images flickered across a mental screen… Mark, putting on a wig… raising a gun and firing, swinging a knife... Semi human figures slumped in alleys, doorways, bathrooms… the smell of blood… the feeling of fear and betrayal, resignation… decay and death… and always, a chill breeze whispering words that could almost be heard…

******************************************************************************************************

I woke up suddenly, breathing heavily. My heart fluttered and I shivered as I remembered the weird and terrifying dream.

I looked down and saw that the bedclothes were tangled around me and I was hot and sticky. My nightie was clinging to me and felt damp.

I lay there for a moment as the nightmare faded and I got my breath back.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Come in.’ I shouted.

I smiled as Robert came in.

‘Hi Rob, I keep telling you, you don’t have to knock. Just got back?’

‘Yes. I hate the night shift.’

‘Well you wanted to be a doctor.’

‘Yes but I didn’t want to work eighty hours a week. You OK Paula, you look a bit dishevelled if you don’t mind me saying.’

‘Bad dream. Must have been the cheese or wine I had last night. Come and give me a cuddle.

I sighed as I felt his strong arms around me. After a bit of a nice snog, Robin sat back down on the bed.

‘That’s funny; I had a strange dream too. I was on my break and because I was so tired, I dropped off for a few minutes. It was a horrible dream but won’t repeat it as it might upset you. Anyway, changing the subject, are you looking forward to tomorrow?’

‘How can I forget, I’m a bit scared, but it will be worth it.’

‘Don’t worry. SRS has come on leaps and bounds over the last few years. Once your plumbing is sorted out we can have carnal pleasure on a monthly basis.’

‘Monthly! You sod, you mean daily and twice on Saturday, don’t you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I might have headaches and things.’

With that I threw a pillow at him and he rushed out of the room.

I laughed as he poked his head around the door.

‘You had better have a shower and get ready, remember mum and dad are coming over later.’

‘OK, see you in a mo.’

I smiled, thinking how lucky I was to have a man like Robert. I remembered how tender he was when I told him about my being a transsexual. He said that he loved me for who I was, not what I had between my legs. Our relationship was based on love and trust and that was just the way it should be.

I yawned. I was still feeling tired. I picked up the remote from the bedside table and switched the TV on. It was the local news.

‘And finally, just in, we have a report on the fatal accident early this morning involving a lorry and a BMW on the bypass, just outside of Straddling, over to our man on the spot, Philip Rosen.’

The scene shifted to the roadside, behind the reporter was the unrecognisable mashed up remains of a car.

‘As you can see, the damage was extensive. The driver has been named as Mark Jefferson, a businessman from London. The driver of the lorry said that Mr Jefferson’s car slewed across the road and he could not avoid the accident. It appears possible that, as there were no evident skid marks from the BMW, Mr Jefferson either suffered a heart attack or possibly fell asleep at the wheel. An autopsy has been ordered for tomorrow.’

‘As an aside, Mr Jefferson was being investigated for possible drugs and trafficking offences. A police spokesman also said that there were further investigations ongoing regarding an associate of Mr Jefferson, a Mr Robin Smith, found murdered with his wife and son late last night. If anyone has any information regarding this, please contact your local police station.’

I switched the TV off, shivering at the thought of such a nasty accident. There seemed to an icy breeze tickling the back of my neck.

I stretched, looked at the alarm clock and realised that I needed to get a move on.
I got up and walked into the bathroom.

My nightie felt decidedly uncomfortable and damp so I pulled it off and opened the wash basket.

I was just about to throw it in when I saw another nightie laying in the bottom of the basket.

Puzzled, I pulled it out. It was damp to touch. It was almost identical to the one I had just been wearing. That wasn’t important as I had quite a few of this type. I liked long white flowing Victorian style nightdresses, especially in this drafty old house.

‘I don’t remember changing in the night’ I thought.

I then shrugged, ‘Perhaps I’m sleepwalking or something. I knew I shouldn’t have taken those sleeping pills last night. They do funny things to my head.’

I put both nightdresses in the wash basket and then jumped into the shower. I was smiling as I remembered that this would be the last day that I would have that useless thing between my legs, and how soon I would be having my darling Robert inside of me, where he belonged.

Somewhere she could hear a mobile ringing insistently. It rang and rang…

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
* The Raven
Edgar Allan Poe 1845

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