I had a strange dream last night.
I was at work in a large glass covered office building. Myself and a few other employees were mulling around the empty bottom floor looking at each other, but refusing to speak. Suddenly, we heard a loud boom outside.
“Probably thunder,” someone said.
I knew it was something else. I stepped to the glass doors that led to the company pool and looked up in the sky. The sky was covered in a sea of milky, green glowing clouds and for a brief instant I saw what appeared to be the underside of a giant spider with more than eight legs floating in the sky, surrounded in a muted halo of green. It was only visible for a moment as if it were hopping across the sky.
The sight made my spine tingle and my breath stop. We need to lock all of the doors, was my first thought. I looked around at my fellow employees, most of whom I did not know, and they could tell by my look what I was thinking. They scattered in all directions towards the outside doors.
Within minutes, a lady dressed in office attire was outside the glass door closest to me. There was something not right with her face and the way she carried herself. The muscles under the skin on her face kept moving and twitching like she had lost control of their function. Instead of standing up straight, she leaned to one side like a drunken person. A man dressed in a suit and tie, minus the jacket, headed towards her to open the door.
“Wait,” I said.
He looked back at me with his hand on the lock.
“Look, she’s not normal,” I said.
He peered through the glass and then slowly stepped back in realization and horror.
A woman screamed at the other end of the hallway. I looked past her and saw another person, a man this time, outside of the window trying to get in. This one had a white hairless head like a pumpkin with the eyes in the wrong place. It also stood at an angle. It began slapping its hands against the glass and dragging them downward, creating a horrible squeaking sound.
And then I was gone. The images stopped. Maybe I woke up?
The next moment I was standing fully clothed in the company pool surrounded by my fully clothed co-workers as normal. We were all splashing around like idiots. I knew it was the next day and I knew something was not right. I constantly scanned the sky, searching for signs of the terrible bouncing spider. Everyone else seemed oblivious to what had happened the day before.
Then it hit me.
“Does anyone remember what time it was yesterday when they came?” I said.
“Around five-twenty, I think,” said a man behind me.
I looked down at my watch. It was five-twenty. My heart stopped.
“We need to get back inside!” I shouted as loud as I could. Everyone made a mad dash to the glass doors. The sound of a hundred people trying to get out of a pool at the same time is amazing, like a flock of birds beating their wings against the surface of a smooth lake. Within seconds of the last person entering the safety of the building, the boom was heard, the horrifying spider flashed in the sky, and the stumbling, odd-looking people copies appeared outside again.
And then everything went blank again. Damn my restless sleep patterns!
A minute later I’m at home with my family. It’s late in the evening, dark outside, and we hear the boom. We turn out the lights and huddle in the kitchen. The neighbors across the street have left their garage door open and I worry for their lives. I want to go and warn them, but I know I can’t leave my family alone. I grab the butcher knife from the wooden block and hand my wife the big serrated bread cutter. The kids beg for a piece of cutlery, but I refuse to give them any because I fear an accidental bludgeoning.
We huddle in silence and listen to the rain quietly tap the windows.
Then I hear a loud tap on the window beside the kitchen table. I sneak over beside the table and pull back the curtain. Staring me in the face is a one of them, a man with twisted lips and crooked teeth. He is silent, but I notice he is trying to fumble with the lock from the outside. I react by opening the window and stabbing him in the eye, then through the neck. He drops quickly to the ground. There is no blood. A clear gooey liquid drips from the wounds and my blade. I wipe the knife on the curtain, wondering if the substance is diseased.
I’m awake again. For the next several minutes I drift in and out of sleep as an array of images appear and disappear in my waffling sleep-awake-mind.
From what I can remember after waking up, the alien invaders were captured by the military and forced to apologize on television for their actions. The leader, whose features are a blur to me, and who can somehow communicate with us, explains that this was their first attempt at invasion and they are sorry for causing any trouble. From what I could gather, it was just another case of poor planning and execution.
I have to stop eating sugar before bed.