The sun had set for at most an hour and the town seemed to barely be alive, that too only because of the few street lights still on. There wasn't much to do in Polgar at night, especially with winter being right at the doorstep.
A young man dressed in a tracksuit was running swiftly while panting for breath. He did go out to jog, but that wasn't the reason for his mad dash, no. He had just entered Virag Street and was just some steps away from the fence gate of his house.
Slamming it open and sprinting for the door, he inserted the key he was holding in his hand and gave it a powerful twist; the rusty lock didn't fail him this time. Closing it again hurriedly he gave a sigh of relief and stumbled himself towards the sofa, falling heavily onto it.
"What! The! Fuck! Was that?"
"Calm down, calm down. This doesn't even make sense, how did it even appear like that?"
Remembering the encounter with the shadowy figure growing out of the wall in the alley behind the bar he still couldn't compose himself.
It looked like a plume of dark smoke, in the shape of a … dog? Or maybe a wolf? It was very aggressive and "wild", so it would fit the latter, but it more so looked like a ferocious Bernese Mountain Dog, which in itself sounds like an impossibility (those fluff balls are just so cute).
Clothed as he was, even with sneakers on, he fell asleep on the hard sofa he would normally not even deign himself to sit on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Yaaaaawn!"
Johannes stretched his arms, rolled around to his back and rubbed his face. Last night's sleep was very rejuvenating and he felt full of energy, almost like never before.
[Huh? Why is it still dark? Is it before dawn? Or… did I sleep a full day?]
Suddenly he didn't feel so good. He had surprisingly met Krisztina the other day. She had returned home since summer it seems, but to help her mother, instead of his "existential" reasons. Well, not like he had anyone to take care of anyway.
For old time's sake they had decided on going together around town, reminiscing and even catching up maybe, but now he could have actually slept through the day.
He patted his tracksuit jacket and then his trousers…
[No, did I forget it in the bar? Or did it fall during my running? But I'm sure I had my pockets zipped]
[Wait, besides my phone, what about my wallet? Did I lose that as well? But I never took it out from my inner pocket. At the bar, Old Farkas paid for my beer]
He looked down at his hands and slowly he noticed something wrong. These hands didn't feel his. It's weird to explain, they looked marginally different, as if less defined, but mostly, it was a tactile sensation.
It felt like wearing gloves, only the hands were the gloves, and they were worn over something else. In fact his whole skin felt as if it was being worn by something of a mannequin in the shape of his body.
Shifting his gaze to the cabinet near him, he noticed the edges being blurry, almost as if being out of sand, and rounded, as if the sand was starting to fall off.
At that moment, as if a train leaving the station or a bull entering the ruedo, his mind had a moment of insight, a breakthrough.
[I'm dreaming!]
[But how am I conscious?]
He had in fact experimented with lucid dreaming before, but never got satisfactory results, even under the supervision of so-called experts. He grew skeptical of the whole thing, thinking either it was impossible for him (and perhaps others as well) or it was a scam like any other. They are especially popular with these spiritual mumbo-jumbo these days.
It seems though, that he could in fact do it. What caused it still needs to be investigated, but for now he needs to look into this dream more. He wants neither sleep paralysis, nor to see some freaky shit, especially with him still not being over what happened earlier.
[So, finding a way to get out of this as soon as possible is imperative. But how do you even start with that? Just think hard about waking up? Or maybe something like dying? But the latter seems risky, it should only be done as a last resort.]
[But going around for too long may also bring all sorts of problems. Maybe after some time, I'll just have to try ending it by my own hand?]
"Sigh…"
[How do you even tell the time in a dream?]
Looking towards his right, the clock on the wall wasn't even ticking. It was stuck at 8 o'clock.
[First let's look at the house. Maybe I can find something to help me here. Also, see if there is anything missing, as is the case with my phone and wallet.]
In the living room, which one entered as soon as you got past the front door, there was only the sofa, a cabinet to the left of it, a clock on the wall to the right and an old TV on a stand.
[Nothing seems to be missing. I got the carpet to the cleaner because it was more dust than cloth by considerations of weight only. The coffee table was ruined by wood worms, so after removing the rotten parts, the rest could only be used as firewood.]
[I'll look more closely just in case.]
Getting off the sofa he approached the cabinet to the left of it and opened the slightly hanging door after sliding the latch to the right. Inside were some pieces of chinaware: a teapot, four tea cups with matching saucers, a few shallow plates and a small bowl.
In the bottom rung of the cabinet were some treats, but remembering that these have been here for years, it's safe to assume they aren't safe to eat. On the other hand, a bottle of clear liquor towards the back was a welcome surprise.
"Palinka!"
"I haven't had any in quite some time. Wonder what this is made of? Obviously homemade both by looking at the bottle and the fact that rarely would anyone around here even go to local stores for this, let alone get one of those commercial brands with all sorts of additives."
He put his hand over the cap, ready to open it, even if just for a sniff, in order to see (or rather smell) what kind it is when…
"Knock Knock"