Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > We Thought Immortality Meant Never Dying
It was another dream. One of those dreams where you know it's a dream but you can't force yourself to wake up so you have to let the dream sweep over you with almost no hope of ever stopping it. All of my future-telling dreams were like that. It sucked. I could tell it was going to be the Gerard one again, so while I was in that strange dark place right before a dream I tried to yank myself suddenly out of sleep, tried so hard, but the dream was like a tornado, sucking me in with such force that I had to succumb, and it washed over me with a strange coolness like waves on a beach. "Wake up!" I commanded my brain, but the nightmare tugged me into full, helpless oblivion, and I was lost in my horrific dream hell all too quickly.
I was sitting on a bed in a hotel room. I had seen it before, it was very similar to the ones in all my other Gerard dreams. It was really dark, and I could barely see a few feet in front of my nose except for the faint sickly glow emanating from the cell phone held by the man sitting in a chair in the corner. It was Gerard, I could already tell. The medium-length, messy black hair, the skinny black jeans, the profile I knew so well and the beautiful hazel eyes lit up by the phone's light, yet shrouded with worry. Almost in a trance, without any permission from my feet, I suddenly got up from my seat and glided over to Gerard. I already knew he couldn't see me. I had tried to talk to him before, with less than great results.
He lifted the phone to his ear and spoke. "Mikey........ Mikey? Listen, if you're there, I'm getting really worried. Please come back, it's been over an hour and a half. Mikey? Please?"
He sighed and hung up, muttering, "No answer, for the tenth time!" under his breath. There were a few minutes of silence, with just slow breathing and occasional scrapes of shoes against the hotel room floor to puncture the silence. Then came the part that began the nightmare. The phone rang.
For some unexplainable reason, the voice was suddenly magnified from Gerard's phone to fill the whole room. It gave me chills up and down my spine even though I had heard it before in these dreams. "If you want precious Mikey," it cackled, "go to Fourth Street. He'll be waiting for you."
Gerard instantly tried to trace the call, to no avail, and I could almost see the war he was waging with himself. His safety.... or his brother? It was a no-brainer for Gerard. He slipped on a hoodie and walked into the night. I followed, like a second shadow.
Gerard walked down long streets. It was a foggy, cold night, but I couldn't tell where we were because the fog shrouded the buildings around us. We passed by a sewer vent, and the stench made me lightheaded. I braced myself and walked on.
We soon reached a lamppost, where, in the faint glow, I could see a sign saying Fourth Street. Gerard looked around, and I shivered. Again, I knew what was coming next. But I had to do something! I tried to scream out a warning, but suddenly, the dream changed. A shadowy figure grabbed me by the throat and forced me, gasping and choking, into the light, then pressed a knife into my flesh.
"Here's precious Mikey," the stranger rasped. "This is your choice. He goes free.... in exchange for you!"
I was Mikey???
Gerard hesitated, then spoke. There was no hint of a tremor or regret in his voice. "Done." He stepped forward.
"Gee, no!" I screamed, but the man pushed me forward and I sprawled into the street. He grabbed Gerard and was about to stab him when Gerard elbowed him in the stomach and the man doubled over in man. I r3egained my footing and groped for control of the knife, but the stranger twisted it away and stabbed me in the arm. I screamed, and Gerard, still trying to pin the man down, looked towards me.
"Mikey!" he yelled.
I saw it happening in slow motion. As Gerard loosened his grip inadvertently in concern for me, the attaxked smiled, wriggled away, and plunged the knife into Gerard's chest.
"No!!!!!" I howled. "Gerard! Gerard!!!!!!!"
Tears poured down my cheeks and I fell into the gutter, sobbing and banging my fist against the cold stone.
I woke up, tangled in the bedcovers, sweat pouring down my thin frame. I took a deep breath. "It's a dream. It was just a dream," I whispered, trying to calm myself.
Suddenly, pain shot through my arm. I looked down at it and saw a tiny cut, red with blood, on the exact place the man had cut me in the dream. I gasped. This was my warning flag. It had all been a dream, but if I didn't do something, it would become a reality.
I was sitting on a bed in a hotel room. I had seen it before, it was very similar to the ones in all my other Gerard dreams. It was really dark, and I could barely see a few feet in front of my nose except for the faint sickly glow emanating from the cell phone held by the man sitting in a chair in the corner. It was Gerard, I could already tell. The medium-length, messy black hair, the skinny black jeans, the profile I knew so well and the beautiful hazel eyes lit up by the phone's light, yet shrouded with worry. Almost in a trance, without any permission from my feet, I suddenly got up from my seat and glided over to Gerard. I already knew he couldn't see me. I had tried to talk to him before, with less than great results.
He lifted the phone to his ear and spoke. "Mikey........ Mikey? Listen, if you're there, I'm getting really worried. Please come back, it's been over an hour and a half. Mikey? Please?"
He sighed and hung up, muttering, "No answer, for the tenth time!" under his breath. There were a few minutes of silence, with just slow breathing and occasional scrapes of shoes against the hotel room floor to puncture the silence. Then came the part that began the nightmare. The phone rang.
For some unexplainable reason, the voice was suddenly magnified from Gerard's phone to fill the whole room. It gave me chills up and down my spine even though I had heard it before in these dreams. "If you want precious Mikey," it cackled, "go to Fourth Street. He'll be waiting for you."
Gerard instantly tried to trace the call, to no avail, and I could almost see the war he was waging with himself. His safety.... or his brother? It was a no-brainer for Gerard. He slipped on a hoodie and walked into the night. I followed, like a second shadow.
Gerard walked down long streets. It was a foggy, cold night, but I couldn't tell where we were because the fog shrouded the buildings around us. We passed by a sewer vent, and the stench made me lightheaded. I braced myself and walked on.
We soon reached a lamppost, where, in the faint glow, I could see a sign saying Fourth Street. Gerard looked around, and I shivered. Again, I knew what was coming next. But I had to do something! I tried to scream out a warning, but suddenly, the dream changed. A shadowy figure grabbed me by the throat and forced me, gasping and choking, into the light, then pressed a knife into my flesh.
"Here's precious Mikey," the stranger rasped. "This is your choice. He goes free.... in exchange for you!"
I was Mikey???
Gerard hesitated, then spoke. There was no hint of a tremor or regret in his voice. "Done." He stepped forward.
"Gee, no!" I screamed, but the man pushed me forward and I sprawled into the street. He grabbed Gerard and was about to stab him when Gerard elbowed him in the stomach and the man doubled over in man. I r3egained my footing and groped for control of the knife, but the stranger twisted it away and stabbed me in the arm. I screamed, and Gerard, still trying to pin the man down, looked towards me.
"Mikey!" he yelled.
I saw it happening in slow motion. As Gerard loosened his grip inadvertently in concern for me, the attaxked smiled, wriggled away, and plunged the knife into Gerard's chest.
"No!!!!!" I howled. "Gerard! Gerard!!!!!!!"
Tears poured down my cheeks and I fell into the gutter, sobbing and banging my fist against the cold stone.
I woke up, tangled in the bedcovers, sweat pouring down my thin frame. I took a deep breath. "It's a dream. It was just a dream," I whispered, trying to calm myself.
Suddenly, pain shot through my arm. I looked down at it and saw a tiny cut, red with blood, on the exact place the man had cut me in the dream. I gasped. This was my warning flag. It had all been a dream, but if I didn't do something, it would become a reality.
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