There was a door inside my head.

I've gone on trips inside my own mind on many occasions.  Some are more successful than others.  Sometimes it feels like a simple exercise in imagination, but other times I can put myself into a state I cant only describe as a waking dream.  I see people I don't recognize, places I've never seen, sometimes even creatures that are beyond even what I would believe I could imagine.  I consider it a trip to my subconscious, a way for me to explore my dreams from the outside in a way.  I don't have control; these aren't the "lucid dreams," I've had before.  These are more of a viewing, a playback of something.  At least, that's how it feels.

This was unlike either of those.

My eyes were closed, but I was still awake.  I was in a meditative state of sorts, a technique for concentration that I've gotten better at assuming over the last few years.  I'll be honest: I first learned it merely as a means to help me get rid of hiccups.  Now it's useful in all sorts of situations, from work to normally uncontrollable anxieties.  It also helps me get into a mindset that I can normally go on these little trips.

I blacked my mind.  It's one of three ways I normally do this: blacking it out, filling it with light, or (if I've got a bit more time) picturing my thoughts being thrown into a fire.  For stronger meditative states, the ones that tend to affect my physical body as well as my head, I use numbers and imagine them being created in fire and steel.  This particular time, as I only thought to do so quickly, was a blacking.

When I first saw the door in my head, I was very confused.  Blacking doesn't normally leave anything, especially not something quite as specific as this.  Sometimes there are distractions and sounds that get through, but a large, wooden, double-door and frame, floating in the darkness?  This was strange.

I pictured myself walking to the door.  I'm still not sure how this worked, to be honest.  I was aware in my mind that I was still standing at the door, but somehow I imagined what would happen should I choose to open it.  This second me, the fiction inside of fiction, came to the and cracked it.  All this me could see on the other side an orange dancing light like a fire, and eyes that stared back at me, through me.  I gasped within my head, and the image was lost.  I found myself once again outside the door.

I was unsure what to do.  The door hid something.  It felt like a necessity; I felt that behind that door, there was something important, a part of me that I didn't understand or accept or something.  I went through my head, recognizing some of the strange and dangerous thoughts I've had in the past, but I did not move from in front of the door.  Did I construct it?  Did my subconscious construct it for me?  I've done and planned terrible things in my past.  What is behind that door that frightens me so?

Emotion started to make my concentration waver.  I knew I didn't have much time, and it felt dangerous to throw open the doors when I could not spend the time to deal with what I might discovered.  I turned, or, perhaps, it moved to the side.  I cannot say for certain.  All I know is I made movement to distance myself from it for now.

I opened my eyes.  A face appeared surrounding my vision, as suddenly as the door appeared behind my eyelids.  It was white and hollow, almost more of a skull than a face but it stretched and moved like skin.  It wailed, silently, before fading into my peripheral vision.  I closed my eyes, and I could see it again.  I shuddered, wondering if this is a sign of a good decision, or a bad one.

I don't suppose I will know, until the time I open the door, and see which truth lies behind.