Though I normally forget all of my dreams within a few minutes of waking up, I have a collection of some that I can still recount quite clearly. The earliest dream I can remember is from when I was about five years old, a weird sort of semi-nightmare that wasn't particularly scary but makes me feel a bit sick. But more about that next time.
Anyway, I've decided to document the dreams I can remember, purely for my own entertainment. There are actually a couple I'd written down in my diary, and when I reread them later I discovered that I enjoyed reliving the sensations I had during the dream. They're mostly things that would never happen in real life, and emotions that I don't normally feel, but that's the best part. It's like watching an incoherent fantasy movie in which I'm the main character. The stories I dream of probably don't mean anything, but it's fun and I don't care. So here goes.
This nightmare I'm writing about is the scariest dream I can remember. I've told this to a lot of my friends, but never in its entirety, because it's pretty detailed and lengthy. But it's so good. As in, it's not one of those dreams where a bunch of random shit is just jumbled together and has no story at all. This dream had an actual plot, and played in my mind just like a clip from a horror movie. The way the scenes changed and all that. It wasn't a complete movie, though, because I woke up before the most important part, and the story behind why my godfather was a psychopath who wanted to kill me wasn't explained. That part will remain a mystery forever.
So the dream starts off at night, in a huge scrapyard that is completely ablaze. There are trails of gasoline splattered on the ground that haven't burned yet, so you can tell that this fire is arson and not an accident. The camera (or my eyes, or whatever) closes in on a pair of people: a father and son, bloody, badly injured and covered in dirt. They are struggling to climb up some sort of manhole. I can hear the fear in every ragged breath, and each time they grip a rung on the ladder, the metal lets out a muffled ring. The son, who looks to be about 7 or 8 years old, starts to clamber out first.
Then the screen focuses on a pair of black shoes slowly walking toward them. The son, almost completely out of the manhole, freezes and looks up to see my godfather (I have no idea why it had to be my godfather, but he's the villian in this dream), dressed in black, holding up in front of him a pair of gigantic scissors the size of a wok pan. The father notices my godfather, goes ballistic, frantically attempts to shove his son to give him a boost, and screams "RUN, _________ (don't remember the name), GOOOOOOOO!!!!!" Then I think the screen shows my godfather's face laughing or something, and then everything goes black. So I don't know what happened to both of them, but I'm assuming they're dead. Heaven knows what he did to them with those scissors.
Now the scene changes and it's mid-afternoon, and I'm in 5th or 6th grade. School has just ended for me and it's time to walk home. I'm aware that my godfather is after me as well, so every day I'm living in terror. I don't think I know a thing about the father and son, or whether my scene takes place before or after theirs; I think the dream was just setting the mood to show just how crazy and terrifying my godfather was. The school I'm attending is P.S. 169, the elementary school in New York I actually graduated. My school, my house, the neighborhood - everything is exactly the same as it was in real life.
I always took Route A home, but since I'm hiding from my godfather in my dream, I decide to take a different path, Route B, for the first time ever. Route B is a quieter road, in my memory, with more trees and grass and nice houses. I walk home, thinking that I should probably start running for my life once I reach Bell Blvd., because from there it's familiar territory and who knows where he might be lurking.
But suddenly, at 16th Ave, in one of those pretty houses with front steps that lead to the door, my godfather walks out. He actually lives there. He looks gruesome, wearing these weird turquoise sweatpants and windbreaker. Come to think of it, it's the type of clothing my weird uncle normally wears - my actual godfather has way better fashion sense. Anyway, he walks out from the door and scans the street. My heart nearly leaps into my throat, and I quickly duck behind a big car that's parked next door to his place.
So I'm crouched behind this car, and I'm trembling while my mind races. If I run in the other direction, he'll probably catch me. If I stay still, he might walk past and notice me. Whatever I do, I can't think of any scenario in which I'm walking away alive. I wait and wait and wait, but I don't hear any footsteps, or shuffling, or the sound of a door closing - nothing. Thinking I may have missed him leaving or going back in, I raise my head about a fraction of an inch, to peek at his front door through the passenger seat window...
And I find him staring straight into my eyes. He knew I was behind the car the whole time, and he was the one waiting for me to come out.
OMG HOW SCARY IS THAT?! It's like getting caught in hide and seek, except the consequence this time is DEATH. Until this moment, I'd never understood what it meant when someone's heart sank in novels, but here I think I actually experienced that physical sinking sensation, when I realized that I was going to die a painful death very soon.
Anyway, my godfather starts walking toward me, and he looks seriously angry. His steps are slow and deliberate. I stand up and slowly back away, but I don't look at where I'm going and eventually my back bumps into one of the neighbor's front door. I'm trapped; at a dead end, and there is nowhere else to run. He's holding those gigantic scissors again, and snips a few times at the air, making this sickening sound. His face is all distorted and ugly. "What did I tell you," he says, "about hiding from me?"
I have no idea what he told me about hiding from me, because that part wasn't included in my dream. He probably said that some time before. Not that any of that matters. I don't know what to think anymore. I'm just standing there, paralyzed, just like the little boy who climbed out of the manhole. He gets closer and closer.
And that's when I wake up.
Anyway, I've decided to document the dreams I can remember, purely for my own entertainment. There are actually a couple I'd written down in my diary, and when I reread them later I discovered that I enjoyed reliving the sensations I had during the dream. They're mostly things that would never happen in real life, and emotions that I don't normally feel, but that's the best part. It's like watching an incoherent fantasy movie in which I'm the main character. The stories I dream of probably don't mean anything, but it's fun and I don't care. So here goes.
This nightmare I'm writing about is the scariest dream I can remember. I've told this to a lot of my friends, but never in its entirety, because it's pretty detailed and lengthy. But it's so good. As in, it's not one of those dreams where a bunch of random shit is just jumbled together and has no story at all. This dream had an actual plot, and played in my mind just like a clip from a horror movie. The way the scenes changed and all that. It wasn't a complete movie, though, because I woke up before the most important part, and the story behind why my godfather was a psychopath who wanted to kill me wasn't explained. That part will remain a mystery forever.
So the dream starts off at night, in a huge scrapyard that is completely ablaze. There are trails of gasoline splattered on the ground that haven't burned yet, so you can tell that this fire is arson and not an accident. The camera (or my eyes, or whatever) closes in on a pair of people: a father and son, bloody, badly injured and covered in dirt. They are struggling to climb up some sort of manhole. I can hear the fear in every ragged breath, and each time they grip a rung on the ladder, the metal lets out a muffled ring. The son, who looks to be about 7 or 8 years old, starts to clamber out first.
Then the screen focuses on a pair of black shoes slowly walking toward them. The son, almost completely out of the manhole, freezes and looks up to see my godfather (I have no idea why it had to be my godfather, but he's the villian in this dream), dressed in black, holding up in front of him a pair of gigantic scissors the size of a wok pan. The father notices my godfather, goes ballistic, frantically attempts to shove his son to give him a boost, and screams "RUN, _________ (don't remember the name), GOOOOOOOO!!!!!" Then I think the screen shows my godfather's face laughing or something, and then everything goes black. So I don't know what happened to both of them, but I'm assuming they're dead. Heaven knows what he did to them with those scissors.
Now the scene changes and it's mid-afternoon, and I'm in 5th or 6th grade. School has just ended for me and it's time to walk home. I'm aware that my godfather is after me as well, so every day I'm living in terror. I don't think I know a thing about the father and son, or whether my scene takes place before or after theirs; I think the dream was just setting the mood to show just how crazy and terrifying my godfather was. The school I'm attending is P.S. 169, the elementary school in New York I actually graduated. My school, my house, the neighborhood - everything is exactly the same as it was in real life.
I always took Route A home, but since I'm hiding from my godfather in my dream, I decide to take a different path, Route B, for the first time ever. Route B is a quieter road, in my memory, with more trees and grass and nice houses. I walk home, thinking that I should probably start running for my life once I reach Bell Blvd., because from there it's familiar territory and who knows where he might be lurking.
But suddenly, at 16th Ave, in one of those pretty houses with front steps that lead to the door, my godfather walks out. He actually lives there. He looks gruesome, wearing these weird turquoise sweatpants and windbreaker. Come to think of it, it's the type of clothing my weird uncle normally wears - my actual godfather has way better fashion sense. Anyway, he walks out from the door and scans the street. My heart nearly leaps into my throat, and I quickly duck behind a big car that's parked next door to his place.
So I'm crouched behind this car, and I'm trembling while my mind races. If I run in the other direction, he'll probably catch me. If I stay still, he might walk past and notice me. Whatever I do, I can't think of any scenario in which I'm walking away alive. I wait and wait and wait, but I don't hear any footsteps, or shuffling, or the sound of a door closing - nothing. Thinking I may have missed him leaving or going back in, I raise my head about a fraction of an inch, to peek at his front door through the passenger seat window...
And I find him staring straight into my eyes. He knew I was behind the car the whole time, and he was the one waiting for me to come out.
OMG HOW SCARY IS THAT?! It's like getting caught in hide and seek, except the consequence this time is DEATH. Until this moment, I'd never understood what it meant when someone's heart sank in novels, but here I think I actually experienced that physical sinking sensation, when I realized that I was going to die a painful death very soon.
Anyway, my godfather starts walking toward me, and he looks seriously angry. His steps are slow and deliberate. I stand up and slowly back away, but I don't look at where I'm going and eventually my back bumps into one of the neighbor's front door. I'm trapped; at a dead end, and there is nowhere else to run. He's holding those gigantic scissors again, and snips a few times at the air, making this sickening sound. His face is all distorted and ugly. "What did I tell you," he says, "about hiding from me?"
I have no idea what he told me about hiding from me, because that part wasn't included in my dream. He probably said that some time before. Not that any of that matters. I don't know what to think anymore. I'm just standing there, paralyzed, just like the little boy who climbed out of the manhole. He gets closer and closer.
And that's when I wake up.
Comments
Post a Comment