lucid.

i had some inspiration from this weeks events and other people's ignorance of how everyone has to have been teased to snap. unfortunately teasing is not always the case of morbid violence.

it wasn't a big deal. he just had weird dreams. they were just viciously realistic.
but they had gone away, or so he thought. it hadn't been a problem since he was a little kid. those restless nights where he would wake up screaming and washing his hands in the bathroom. every night he had woken up in the bathroom with the scolding hot water running. eventually everyone in the house he lived in would grow accustomed to it and sleep through his screams. he would sit in the bathroom and cry for hours because of his visually realistic dreams. the dreams of murder where he would kill animals and slam them on the concrete of the street.
they had began to occur once more. but he thought nothing of them because he himself had grown accustomed to them. there he sat sitting on the long island rail road train as it began to slowly pull out of penn station. he was on the older train and the lights went off and it rocked from side to side. the only thing that emerged from the darkness was the emergency instructions poster that was a light green glowing in the dark.
he took out his fiji water bottle from his briefcase and opened the orange pill tube that was in his black trench coat folded over his lap. he unscrewed the orange container and shook two pills into his hand. then he unscrewed the bottle and swallowed them both. it was the medicine his doctor had prescribed him, they were supposed to decrease your awareness in dreams and seeing as he'd be on that train for two hours he anticipated falling asleep. he put the briefcase down on the floor and glanced at his watch. it was 8.54 and the had just emerged into queens. he looked up out the window at the dark sky above and stared at the 7 train tracks before they passed beneath queens blvd.
he sat there in silence looking out of the window. the train wasn't empty yet it wasn't packed. there were people scattered all throughout the train as was typical at 9 on a Friday night. he looked around and then quickly back out as the rain had began to pour on the city.
the train was an express and he watched the blur of trees, cars, lights, stations, and houses. it was intoxicating to see everything speed by. and he drifted asleep to the swoosh of another train going into the city passing by. he thought he was awoken as the train creased it's way into jamaica station. the doors opened and a handful of people deboarded. the train stood there as an announcement was made of the upcoming stations. "the next stop on this train is new hyde park"
he knew he was still dreaming because he looked at his watch and couldn't see the time. he knew this was a reaction to a lucid dream, he was having a dream that his conscious was aware of. he hated these dreams. these were the violent dreams. "the pills must've not have been fast acting" he thought to himself. he just sat there hoping the dream would fade out.
he stared out of the window as the train slowly disembarked the station. it began to pick up speed and the windows were all blurred the darkness consumed the outside world and he couldn't see anything other than his own reflection against the glass.
he laid his head back on the navy blue seat. he sat there and thought of everything that went through his life. rage had suddenly filled his head, an uncontrollable rage that he had no clue why he was angry. the dreams usually made him feel like it and so he didn't try to wake up because he'd probably start screaming on the train.
at that time it felt like he was two people. a person filled with hatred and anger towards everything around him, and then there was the other normal person that would rationalize everything and control every situation. in his dreams though the angry side would reveal itself. he decided to just let the dream continue uninterrupted because he needed the sleep. it was as if he were watching a horror movie in his head.
the train glided past queens village at a high rate of speed. he dug into his briefcase and took out the box cutter. he worked in an architecture firm and would bring it in everyday for his projects. he didn't know why he took it out. he stood up and began walking through the aisle of the train.
the rage filled his head he couldn't control what he was doing. the emergency break was pulled right after the train passed bellerose station. people were screaming, he knew he was still dreaming.
he woke up in the bathroom of the train washing his hands. the train was stopped for some odd reason and there were people yelling throughout the train. he didn't know why because his door was closed.
someone began slamming on the door. "hold on!" he yelled as he dried his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror and was obviously shaken by his dream. the slamming continued and as he turned around to face the door it swung open off the hinges.
he screamed as he was tackled to the floor by the nassau county police officers. he panicked as the grabbed his arms and threw the handcuffs on him. he was confused by what was going on and didn't see anything as he was taken off the train that stood idle in the middle of the tracks.
he walked down the hill from the tracks asking "what happened?"
one of the police officers said under their breath "sick fuck"
he sat there in the interrogation room waiting for an explanation of why he was arrested.
when he found out he was horrified at what he had done.
16 people killed on a train and 4 in the hospital all with stab wounds.
he went into shock and was later placed in creedmoor psychiatric center, never regaining his healthy conscious.