As I close my eyes to sleep tonight I am reminded of my own insecurities. Me, a struggling writer for as long as I can remember, had barely made a dent in the workload I was given. In my youth, overflowing with curiosity and energy, I easily could have become more than what I was today. Alas, dreams are sometimes more trouble than they are worth. So, I close my eyes and let my lackluster mind wander into the cosmos of dreams.
For maybe a brief moment I slumbered, only to awaken in a startling huff in a White Room. I couldn't tell you what my first thought was, nor how I came to be in this room. However, I could tell you that the room was so intensely white that my eyes burned the way they do if you look at the sun for too long. White ceilings, white walls, white floors, all without a speck of dirt or dust to be seen anywhere. To be honest, I take no shame in admitting that I was the dirtiest thing in this room. My old shabby pajamas, which at one point were rather white, paled in comparison to this room. My olive skin seemed much darker here as well as my unkempt hair. I couldn't help but feel completely out of place. That my very beginning here was a travesty of its own accord.
Now, it is notable to say that during my initial look around the room, inspecting the different corners that were all just as bright, I had seen nothing else except my own self. However, upon turning to have a look again, there was a single table as white as the walls and a chair to match. They were at the center of the room where I had awakened but I had not noticed them before. I pondered to myself for some time. Was this truly here all along and in my own carelessness I failed to recognize it? Or possibly a much more terrifying explanation. Did it just appear while I was distracted by the glory of this white room?
Without much delay, as it was just a table and chair, or so I convinced myself, I began to inspect them inch by inch. I am no carpenter to say the least, but even I could decipher between wood and metal objects; Yet here, in this white room, I could simply not tell which material the furniture was made out of. The white chair was cold to the touch, as was the table. The material itself, however, didn't have the smooth finish you would find in most metal objects nor did it have the texture embedded in the grain like wood. I was puzzled once again.
My puzzlement grew as things progressed.
I had turned my back on the table and chair to try and gather my thoughts. I'm unsure now how long my back was turned but I can recall the hair standing on every inch of my body. A soft, almost ghostly sobbing could be heard from behind me. I trembled lightly, unable to turn myself to face where the noise was coming from. Up until this moment, I had not seen a door or any kind of exit at all. I saw no windows or speakers or anything else that could explain the sound. I did try to convince myself that maybe the walls were thin and what I was hearing wasn't coming from my own white room but somewhere outside of it.
That notion didn't last long as the once soft sobbing became increasingly louder. It was undeniable now, I knew I had to turn and face what awaited me.
A genderless figure was sitting in the chair, with what looked like his head nestled into what looked like arms. It was sobbing; not very human-like. Its sobs were more choked and desperate than anything I have ever heard before. That wasn't the only surprising fact about this figure either. I was more put off by the fact that it didn't match the room. It wasn't brilliantly white or polished like the floors or walls, it wasn't even solid like the table or chairs. It was a jet black mist in the shape of a human being without any distinguishable features. My heart was racing wildly in my chest as I felt the familiar anxiety of my flight or fight response. My body was ready to run, but my mind couldn't determine where to go. This room was all there was, and I was stuck in it with the mysterious jet black, mist-like figure.
I jumped as it lifted its head from its arms. It seemed to be staring at something in front of it, but I was not close enough to see. Despite my better judgment, I moved forward, only to be completely shocked. In front of the figure was a single sheet of white paper and a pen. Confused and probably without much thought, I spoke;
"What are you doing?"
My own words sounded just as foreign to me. I am not sure now or then why my voice seemed unfamiliar at the time, but I will never forget what the figure said back;
"I don't know what to write…"
Through my puzzlement, I blurted out the first thing that had come to my mind, "You can write anything you want to."
The figure jerked its head towards me now. Its mirror-like eyes reflected my disheveled self. The figure stood abruptly and stalked towards me. At this moment I was unable to move or speak any further. The figure was much taller than I had expected and much darker. As it stalked towards me it seemed as if it was getting larger and larger, tainting the white room with its black mist. I shut my eyes tightly, too afraid of seeing what would come next.
It seemed like hours passed, but nothing happened. I let myself relax before I opened my eyes. Still too afraid of what I might see. However, when I finally opened them, the white room was just as brilliant without a trace of the figure that once shrouded it in darkness. But, my heart still raced violently in my chest as I made a horrifying realization. I was sitting in the chair at the table with a single black sheet of paper and pen. My hand, without my wanting so, was erasing every trace of white on the paper with the pen, filling every space it could. As it did so, the room around me began to fill up as well, slowly shifting from light to dark. I felt uncontrollable, like I was drowning in a sea of black ink. I tried to no avail to get my hand to obey me, but it continued to fill the paper with its black streaks until I was completely consumed by the ink.
I awoke in a daze, gasping for every lung full of air that I could. I had broken out into cold sweats somewhere along the line and my body felt cold. I pulled my aching head up from my cold white desk, my familiar room, with its familiar smells; filled my senses. I noticed I had fallen asleep at my desk, pen in hand and paper ready for the pain. The dream drove back into the depths of my mind, as I stretched and brought myself back to reality.
"Just a dream…"
I chuckle softly to myself, before standing and making my way to the bathroom. I flicked on the lights and caught an all too familiar glimpse out of the corner of my eye. Turning to the mirror, facing it, made me gasp and faint. The jet black mist, resembling a genderless figure, stood where my reflection should have been; mimicking me to the very last detail. Its mirrored eyes, still reflecting the white room, yet with me helplessly trapped inside.