By

S.J Asher

Daily writing prompt

When you think of the word “successful,” who’s the first person that comes to mind and why?

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Sometimes, I have this dream. It doesn’t come every night, but when it does, it leaves me shaken for days. It goes like this:

When I think “successful,” I don’t picture a person. I see a door.

It’s out there somewhere. Sleek, modern, gleaming. Probably mahogany or some obscenely expensive wood I can’t name. The kind of door that practically screams “important people only.”

I’ve spent years clawing my way toward it. Sacrificing sleep, relationships, pieces of myself I’ll never get back.

All to someday stand before that kind of door.

In that dream, something feels… wrong.

I smell ozone near that door, like the calm before a storm.

There’s a low, constant hum from the other side. Not machinery. Something alive.

My fingers touch the cool metal handle. The door isn’t locked.

I should feel excited. Driven. Instead, my stomach churns with dread.

What waits on the other side? Is it everything I’ve dreamed of? Or something altogether… different?

The hum grows louder. Insistent. Hungry.

A terrifying feeling settles in my chest. I realize I’ve never seen anyone come back out through that door.

Should I turn the handle?

Should I run?

I turn away quickening my steps. The hum fades, replaced by the gentle sound of my own breathing.

I feel truly awake while still being asleep.

I’m not running away. I’m running towards something else.

Towards myself.