I am the Werewolf

I was running through this old, decrepit mansion with another woman I didn’t know and a wailing baby. We were being chased by two large men that wanted to hurt us. The three of us weaved through the decaying rooms, trying to avoid capture. We finally managed to get enough distance between us and our pursuers to run into a bedroom and hide in a closet. I tried to barricade the closet door with a small dresser that was inside of it to put something between us.

The woman and I tried to remain silent in hopes that they wouldn’t find us. However, the baby began crying and the woman tried to quite it, but the sound he made was loud enough to attract the attention of the men, and they were soon forcing their way into the closet.

“What are we going to do?” the woman cried, holding the still wailing child. It was then that I realized that I was dreaming. I stood there in a lucid state as the closet door was being broken into.  An idea stuck me as the outside threat came closer and closer to harming us.

I let out a guttural sound that came from deep within my chest. I felt my my height grow and my hands and feet become clawed and twisted. Grayish-black hair grew from my face and arms and I could feel my canines lengthen until they poked over my slightly open lips.

“Howooooo! Werewolves of London!” I howled before busting through the closet and mauling the men on the other side of the door. They never stood a chance.

I woke up and had a little chuckle before falling back asleep.
Score: 5/10. Random, but kind of funny.


Stab, Your it! The Sequel (and more)

Dream 1: I had a dream last night that is loosely based on the dream I had earlier this week. The previous dream was referenced as a dream in this dream (very meta.) This dream started off on a much more sinister note. My family and our close family friends were hiding in various places of my parents house, in hopes of avoiding Jason Voorhees and his giant chainsaw. My parents hid upstairs, while my brother, Aunt L, and Uncle J, and I hid in the basement (which was about 3x the size it is in reality.) My brother squeezed himself in an old toy box and closed the lid, my Aunt A hid behind the bar, and my uncle had managed to remove the ceiling panels and hide in the space between the two floors (haha, what?)  I chose to hide in my dad’s workshop/storage area –there is a space under the stairs that someone could potentially hide in behind a line of things (this is actually a place that I commonly hide in nightmares involving my parent’s home.)

I heard the roar of Jason’s chainsaw and screams from upstairs. I panicked and ran from my hiding place, thinking it wasn’t good enough and that I would be caught next. I scrambled to where my uncle was hiding and begged him to let me share his hiding place. He told me to just remove another one of the panels and climb up. I managed to get up and slide the panel back in before I heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Jason had arrived.

From a crack in the ceiling, I could see Jason stalking around, looking for his next victim. He walked right beneath me and I held my breath, hoping he couldn’t hear my racing heart. He finally started to walk away and I sighed with relief. Then the paneling broke.

I fell from the ceiling and onto a pile of boxes. Jason turned and revved his chainsaw.

“Wait. WAIT!” I yelled. Jason paused, but the chainsaw kept running.

“I know how this works, and that you have to kill me,” I said. “But could you please make it quick? No tortuous chainsaws please!” Jason turned the saw off and stared at me for a few seconds before whipping out a gun and shooting me in the head at point-blank range.  I heard the shot, but felt nothing. I opened my eyes — well, eye, since I no longer had my left one. I could see and feel the oozing blood pouring from the wound in my head.

“Aww,” I whined. “I thought I picked a really good hiding spot this time…”

“Should have stayed where you were,” my uncle said, coming down from the ceiling.

“Ya, got me good this time, too!” I said, touching the bloody mess on my face.

“Can we call you Cyclops from now on?” my brother asked, climbing out of the toy box. Everyone laughed, including Jason. I made an overly-dramatic pouty face before laughing along with them.

Score: 6/10. I give this one such a high score for ending on such a “lighthearted” note. A weird bizarro world where people are mutilated without feeling pain or succumbing to their injuries.  Where the other dream I had started off fun and innocent and dissolved into disaster, this one started off terrifying and ended like a cheesy episode of the Twilight Zone.


Dream 2: I was a lab mouse that had somehow gained the intelligence and memories of a human being as part of an experiment. I wanted to escape the confines of my cage and see the ocean, which my human mind remembered fondly. There was another female mouse, who remembered a human life in Mexico, where she lived by the ocean. We agreed to team up and escape our prison.

The dream was a mix of scenic landscapes and hopeful discussions. I remember trees, rolling hills, deserts, and then finally an ocean town with cobbled streets and rolling waves.  I wish I could remember it in better detail, but it was beautiful.

 Score: 7/10. Weird. Surreal. Nice.


Sneaking through Ellen DeGeneres’ Home & Saving Christmas

So, Friday night, I had some perfectly wild dreams.

Dream 1: The dream starts off with R and I looking at an apartment within Ellen DeGeneres’ home. (Apparently Ellen needed some extra cash and was willing to rent parts of her home out to strangers.) Anyways, we were touring this beautiful, one bedroom space with a beautiful bathroom, kitchen and living area, but it was all set up like a studio. Ellen had stepped out of the apartment space for a personal phone call, leaving us alone in the apartment.

I got the great idea to poke around outside of the apartment space and snuck out when R was checking out the bathroom. Ellen’s house was a maze of corridors full of doors that lead to rooms that had no earthly reason to be next to each other. For example, there was a large pool room next to a walk-in meat locker, next to a large library. (This theme of bazaar room arrangements, is something very common in my dreams.) Then I stumbled upon the master bedroom, which had an amazing walk-in closet that was full of exotic looking fur coats. Curious, I walked into the closet. Not wanting to ruin anything, I tried my hardest to avoid touching any of the coats. Unfortunately, I accidentally brushed up against one of the coats and set off an alarm.

Scared, I ran out of the master bedroom to find a place to hide. I run into a nearby room that looks like a giant workshop. It’s full of long wooden tables and benches that were under piles of stuff. It looked like a giant indoor garage sale. I hid under one of the tables, trying to push the bench underneath it out of the way. I settle in my spot, trying to wait out the possible punishment for sneaking into place I wasn’t invited into. Just as I was becoming confident in my hiding place, I nearly jump out of my skin when I see Ellen DeGeneres’ face peering down at me from the other side of the table like a FNAF jump scare. Jeezus, Ellen!

I found you!

Dream Score: 5/10. It was a beautiful (albeit strange) home. But that ending though…

Dream 2: Apparently, this little jump scare was not enough to wake me up, but enough to make me forget the rest of that dream and suddenly come to awareness int the middle of a new one. In this dream, Santa had gone missing and I had found his sleigh and was trying to deliver toys to the entire world.

The worst part of the dream was controlling the sleigh. It was like trying to operate a glitchy game; turning was near impossible, the reindeer either flew way too high or too low, and there was literally a operating system on the dash of the sleigh the recorded points per delivery based on time and efficiency.

The second hardest part was returning to the North Poll. The tundra was freezing and hard to see through. I finally ended up crashing into a wooden fence in the middle of the Arctic.

Ho Ho …shhiitt.

Annoyed, and sick of trying to drive a sleigh of flying animals, I said “F**k this, I’m going home.” Then I woke up.

Score: 2/10. Cold and far too much work only to crash in the middle of nowhere and never actually see the North Poll. I’m still a bit bitter about it.

Lesson Learned: Don’t Sneak into RVs

Okay, so this dream started off with me as a child. I wasn’t really myself though… I actually think I was a young boy. I was playing games in the street with a group of kids my age — it was a parody of Little Rascals or Sandlot — which seemed to be a common thing for us to do.

We were just about to play dodgeball, when we noticed a large RV roll up the street. It parked in front of a house that we didn’t really know, and a man got out and went inside. The leader of the group suggested that we peek into the RV to see what was inside. We were all curious; it was like a traveling tree fort, and we wanted to see how cool it was.

When we reached it, we noticed that the back window of the RV was open. It was just wide enough to crawl through. Being the smallest of the group, I was hoisted up on someone’s shoulders to look inside.

“We should crawl in!” The leader said. “Then we can see some really cool stuff!”

“I don’t think that — ahhhh!” I cried as the guy holding me pushed me in through the opening. The leader and two other boys scrambled through the window as picked myself back up. As I stood up, I heard a tearing sound. I looked down to see that I had landed on a pile of paperback books, and that I had ripped one of them between my feet as I had stood up.

“Hey! What are you sneaks doing back there!” an angry voice sounded from the front of the RV. Mysteriously, the man was back in the car and was glaring at us through his rearview mirror. We all screamed in terror and scrambled to get back out the window.

Luckily we made it out. Unluckily, this lead to one of those epic chase scenes that I often dream about. Normally, dream where I am being chased are fun. I love running from monsters and I treat it like a game. This time, I was not excited; these weren’t monsters, they were men, and it terrified me. Apparently, the RV guy was not the only one, there were at least three of them chasing us.

Now I don’t remember the entire chase scene, but I do remember two very distinct moments of hiding/running from these guys.

The first, was us hiding behind a large, elongated row of pillars. It was difficult to hide behind these thin barriers as they slowly drove by, trying to spot us. You had to shift quickly to one side as they drove by so that they didn’t catch a glimpse of us. Despite not being able to see us, they kept driving back and forth on the street, staring at the pillars like they expected us to be there.

The second, was me running into a hotel and hiding in an elevator. I was trying to avoid one of the goons by getting in the single elevator, waiting until the goon saw which floor (the highest floor) I was going to and wait for them to run up the stairs, then hit the button to remain on the first floor. I managed to do this a few time before finally getting caught.

Distraught, I cried in defeat, trying to escape their grasp. The guy had picked me up like a football and carried me over to a nearly empty parking lot. The only cars there were the RV and a small limo.  I panicked as I saw the other goons, including the RV driver, thinking that they were going to kill me.

“Wait,”  a heavily-accented voice called from the side of the limo. A blonde, middle aged woman in elegant clothing had opened the door of the limo and stepped out. She looked me up and down.

“Dis? Dis is ze spy?”

“Yes. Ma’am,” one of the guys responded.

“You idiots, dis is one of ze neighborhood kids. Definitely not a spy,” she scoffed. “Put ‘im down.” the man dropped me on the pavement. She spat at him and picked me up by the armpits and set me on the trunk of the limo.

“I see you went exploring in my van,” she laughed, pointing to the open RV window. “And you destroyed one of my books,” she held up the ripped copy of George Orwell’s 1984. “It vas my favorite,” she pouted “Now apologize.”

“I’m sorry!” I cried. “I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t want to go in, and I didn’t mean to ruin your book.”

“So you learned your lesson?” she quizzed, nodding her head at the goons around her. I nodded violently.

“Vell, you said sorry, and you meant it,” she huffed. “Now go home and never speak of this.” Again, I nodded and ran off.
Dream Score: 5/10. Typical, kinda boring overall…but I gave it bonus points for the possibility of falling into the RV of either a secret agency or drug cartel. Nice.

Hiding and Crying

I had two very unrelated dreams last night, but both put me on edge. At least, as I was reaming them.

Dream 1: I was trapped in a three story house by this really creepy old guy. He was thin and bald, and walked with a hunch. Why I was afraid of a guy that I could physically take down easily, I’ll never know.

The house was a hoarders paradise; it was full of boxes and trinkets –many of the broken– that filled every corner of the house. Everything in the house was gray-toned, like Tim Burton had filmed the scene.  

For some reason, I had it in my mind to hide my phone from the man. For whatever reason, I knew bad things would happen if her got ahold of it. So, instead of spending my time trying to escape the giant, messy house, I spent my time trying to use the junk to my advantage and hide my phone in a place that he would never think of looking. I finally chose to hide it in an empty soup can that was inside of a bucket hanging off of a tree branch near the open window on the top floor. Nothing came of the dream.

Score: 2/10. There was no point to this dream. What would an old creepy guy want my phone anyways? Also, it already had a password lock.


Dream 2: I’m getting married in October, so it is a large presence in my life at the moment. So, I’m not surprised that I had a wedding dream.

I was getting ready to walk down the aisle. I had just finished putting on my wedding dress in this large fitting room. We were getting married in a mansion (in reality, were are tying the knot at a golf course.) My mother was helping me, but she was dressed in casual street clothes. I found this odd, but shrugged it off as “mostly unimportant” in my mind. I just wanted to get married.

The ceremony was a disaster. My brother ran down the aisle without my friend, M, who was trying to walk slowly. I saw all of this from a bird’s-eye view, even though I wasn’t even in the room yet. My maid of honor almost missed her cue, because she was trying so had to manage everything that she lost track of time. I almost missed my cue, because I was so confused.

My aunt was up at the altar with my fiance, ready to marry us (in reality, my mom’s close friend will be conducting the ceremony). Before I could even get part way down the aisle. My aunt stops the ceremony to announce that she had terrible news: some random great aunt from my dad’s family had just passed away, so they would postpone everything right then for mourning. Everyone nodded in agreement.

I was told to sit down in a seat, in my wedding dress, so that I could reflect on the life of this woman I hardly knew. In that moment, I became livid. I remember standing up and saying that I didn’t really know the woman, and that she was 98 years old! (In reality, I don’t think anyone in my dad’s family is that old.) I was then yelled at of being a “bridezilla” and wanting everything to go my way. I started crying, because all I wanted was to walk down the aisle, say my vows, and get married to my fiance. I was so frustrated and upset in my dream that I woke up whining/half crying.

Score: 1/10. So nonsensical, and horrible. I know this scenario could never happen, but jeez. I just hope that these kind of dreams don’t start flooding my sleep as the date get closer.