THE BUG

Okay, so I actually made a story outline of this nightmarish dream I had because I actually what to turn it into a short horror/ sci-fi story. The names are all made up — in the dream they were people based off of myself and some of my friends (they were us but not us, if that makes any sense! I see everything from Emma’s POV.)

It’s a zombie-esque plague with the resulting monsters looking like a mash between District 9 aliens (the roach-like appearance) and something out of Junji Ito’s manga.

 

Anything in bold is added for narrative, so it will actually flow more for a story. Everything else is from the old noggin’.

THE BUG

  • 100ish year in the future
  • A.I.M.I. (Artificial Intelligence Management Instrument) Everyone has one. Part of a large (societal?) system that all interact with each other
  • 5 friends: Emma, Brynna, Ryan, Renee, and Arnett
  • High School
  • Crossing the street scene – A.I.M.I. refuses direct transport for non-emergency. (Street lights out for repairs) Emma waits for A.I.M.I.’s word in order to cross the busy 4 lane business highway. But before she can cross, she sees a man slowly making his way down the road. Appears to be in pain. She sees him fall and rushes over to him. The man has fallen to his knees and is making retching sounds. Emma asks if he is alright, but now sees that the ground below him is splattered with blood and teeth. A.I.M.I. gives her a warning signal, and Emma backs up. Guy looks up at her. His mouth is contorted and large. All of his teeth are missing, and out of the top gums are 2 black, pincer-like protrusions,and his tongue is now a long, black slimy rope that snakes down his throat. His mouth is bloody and dripping. He makes a weird hissing noise. A.I.M.I sets emergency protocol, and Emma is transported back home.
  • Emma tries to explain what she saw to her parents. A.I.M.I plays it down as a stranger who had gotten into an altercation. Says there is no captured footage of the man in her system. When Emma confronts in private. A.I.M.I. she is unable to share “blocked” information.
  • Emma keeps an eye out newsfeeds — no reports of the terrifying man.
  • Emma explains to her friends. Friends try to reassure her.
  • They notice a girl in their class is acting strange. Seems lethargic, but her eyes are shiny and appear VERY observant.
  • Emma sees more and more street people acting strange. One girl slightly older than them is crying on the curb. All A.I.M.I.s redirect their routes.
  • Whatever it is seems to have gathered the attention of everyone in the school despite the lack of news reports. Kids whisper about sick homeless people and bizarre behavior of local shops and law enforcement. Even the teachers seem on edge.
  • Brit is late for school the next day. Claims to feel a little sick, but does not go into detail.
  • Friends try to continue normal activities, but feel a sense of foreboding.
  • Group is walking home. Brit is still sick and appears to be getting worse. Her A.I.M.I. is gone —supposedly for repairs. The group encounters another group of people roaming together several yards away. They are moving strangely and though they can’t make out too much detail, they can tell that their mouths seem to be far too large. Group begs A.I.M.Is to transport them to Ryan’s apartment – so they can be together. (Fear. Parents either working or not reliable, Ryan live in his own apartment. )
  • A.I.M.I’s refuse and recalculate their route.
  • They are jumped by the strange girl at school, who is now a monsterous form of herself. Arnett hit the thing with his lacrosse stick, knocking her back. A.I.M.I.’s begin to set emergency protocol, but the girl spits at them as they are being transported.
  • Greenish acidic liquid burns Renee and Ryan, some lands on Emma’s coat, which she quickly removes when they land. It burns Renee and Ryan’s skin.
  • They are transported into what appears to be a hotel room.
  • The bang on the door to the hall. It’s locked from the outside. A male voice speaks from the other side of the door that they are in quarantine. Brit coughs and vomits blood and a couple teeth.
  • Arnett and Emma hole themselves up in the bathroom as their friends scream and cry in pain. (Acid works far faster that coming into contact with contaminated blood.)  
  • Realizing that they will probably never be saved, they choose to leave the bathroom to become one of the monsters — at least they will be with their friends.

 

Rating: 10/10. I did not really see this as a nightmare, but as an intense story that flowed really well for a dream — I really only had to add adults to the narrative, since my dream was unusually absent of them. Really creepy but loads of fun.

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The Black Door

This dream is pretty short, but it filled me with a sense of dread.

It started off surreal — my fiance (R), brother (S), and I were driving walking the streets inside of this building. Imagine a large, multi-floored, car park, but instead of being lined with open windows or staircases, it was full of apartments. It was like a small city street on the inside of the building. The streets were even marked like actual streets, only there were no cars. This building was one of three similar buildings that were connected by the aptly-named street: Connector Road.

We walked up the incline into the first of the three buildings, minding the road lanes like we were in a car as we tried to find some food stand at apparently served amazing food.

There were many residents on the road, walking in and out of their apartments and minding the 4-way stop in the middle of the building. Unfamiliar with the layout of this strange city, we accidentally got into the center lane rather than the right lane, so we would have to turn around in the stump of a street straight ahead which only lead to a few apartments (haha, dream logic.) Once it was our turn, we walked forward. I knew that this little street was supposed to end within a hundred or so feet, however, once we reached where the dead-end should be, we found the the street continued passed the grouping of apartments and narrowed slightly around the corner. It was a dark, empty street.

“I don’t remember this being here,” I said like I had been in this area before.

“Let’s check it out,” R suggested. “We aren’t in a hurry.”

I shrugged, not caring one way or another. At this point, I wasn’t scared, because I knew this indoor city was quite safe. There were no signs of private property or warnings, so while I found it weird, I figured that it was a small street that I had never noticed.

We all walked together up the slow incline. The street was far darker than the rest of the city, but it was still lit by dim lamps. There were brown doors along the brick walls of the street, but unlike the other apartments, these ones did not have apartment numbers, doormats, or door decorations.  Then suddenly, the street ended… and it ended right at this black, wooden door. Other than its dark color, it was very non-descript, nothing unusual looking about it. Despite this, I was filled with a deep, primal fear. Something about this door was very, very wrong. R and S must have felt the same way because we all turned around. It was suddenly far darker than when we had arrived, and despite going downhill, it felt like we were pushing through molasses. As we ran further out of there, it became steadily darker. We pushed on, struggling against whatever was trying to keep us there.

Then, the heaviness lifted and we could see dim lights downhill. I took a step forward, but instead of the steady incline, I had reached a step. The world became vastly brighter, and we realized that we were now walking down a staircase. We reached the bottom, and realized we were in someone’s living room. A woman, an old lady, and two small children were sitting on their couch, watching television. They looked up at us with confusion, but no hostility.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking. “I don’t know how we got here…”

“You saw the black door, didn’t you?” the woman asked, looking worried. I nodded.

“You must have gotten close; you’re very lucky.” She saw our confused expressions and continued. “You’re in the last unit of (building three.) If you had gotten any closer to that door, you would have never found your way back.”

“What do you mean?” S asked.

The woman began talking about being friends with someone that lived on that little street in building one. They occasionally saw the mysterious street in the early mornings and late evenings when they left their apartment. Everyone in the indoor city knew about this horrific street. Many people dared to enter the creepy road, only to appear in someone’s apartment, usually in a panic. Some people who entered never came out. The closer you got to the door, the less likely you were to come back.

I wished I had been able to focus and hear the rest, but the little boy kept bugging me and stealing my attention.

“The door’s was gonna bite ‘cha!” he jeered, pretending to attack me. I pushed him back in disgust. He tried again. This time I forced him away with my foot. He then grins up at me, evilly and then bit down on my foot.

I woke up with my foot hurting.

 

Score: 2/10. A whole lot of nope. I would be happy if I never saw that door again. Points for the cool indoor city, though!

Wedding Disasters…Again!

As the date of our wedding quickly approaches, I’m not surprised that I’ve hand another dream full of panic and insanity revolved around getting married. (A little backstory: we are having a Halloween-themed wedding, traditional ceremony with a costumed reception. This plays into the dream.)

I’m in my costume (a female version of Watson from Sherlock Holmes). For some reason, I was sitting in one of the chairs in the middle of the row, before the ceremony was to begin. I knew I needed to get back and put my wedding dress on, but I was immobile. Everyone was frantically running around, doing last-minute touches and I was unnoticed in the frenzy.

I was shocked out of my paralyzation at the sight of my maternal grandfather, who was standing near the altar, facing away from me. My grandpa has been dead for the past fourteen years, and I knew this.

Still sluggish, I struggled to stand up. My brother walked by and noticed me.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“I see grandpa!” I answered, ignoring him. This was much more important.

“Yeah,” S replied. “He’s here just for a little while. He wanted to see you get married.”

“I want to go see him!”

“There’s no time!” my brother insisted. “ They’re starting the music soon!”

I was thrust into a near-empty hall, where my bridesmaids and the groomsmen were already lined up. My paternal grandfather and his wife (C) were standing there as well.

“There you are!” my grandpa exclaimed. “We were afraid that you would miss the ceremony, so we put C in your dress as a decoy.” (This is actually hilarious, because C is much shorter and more frail than I am, and is in her seventies.) She was wearing my dress and her face was covered with a veil, so people would not see her face. She quickly slipped off the dress and threw it over my head. I struggled with trying to take off the jacket of my costume and get the dress on.  Then, the music started. The wedding party started walking down the aisle. My maid of honor and R’s brother were the last to move and they walked reaaaalllly slow to give me a chance to get my dress on. I practically ran down the aisle, hoping that my pants would not be visible beneath my white dress.

The scene cuts to after the ceremony. We were outside with all of the family. My bridesmaids were wearing mismatched blood-red dresses (I didn’t seem to mind this as it was normal in my dream. In reality, they’re wearing black.)  However, I wasn’t happy with the fact that my aunt was also wearing the same color dress. My aunt found this funny and joked about it, as well as pointing out over and over again that the turnout to the wedding was terrible, claiming that people didn’t come because they would rather have their own Halloween parties, rather than see me get married. I stood there, flabbergasted, unable to argue or kick her out.

The dream ended with me upset and crying. Boo.

Dream Score: 1/10. Horrible like the last one, but I was happy to see my deceased grandpa even though I didn’t get to talk to him.

Wondering Wednesday: Stab, You’re it!

 

Have you ever had a dream where you felt pain? I mean, physical pain so strong that you wonder how it was possible to feel that level of pain when nothing is actually causing it? I had a horribly painful dream that night that not only made me want to cry, but created a strong level of fear and annoyance.

I was a kid again, and all the kids of the neighborhood were playing hide and seek tag. (In the dream, there were tons of kids, rather than just the few I grew up with.) The person who was ‘it’ would count to a hundred, then try seeking the hiders. If they spotted you, then you could run to a “safe point” (one neighbor’s deck). If they caught you before you reached the deck, you were now “it.” Easy enough, but one kid had a different idea on being ‘it.’

The game started as normal. This one chubby kid with brown hair was ‘it.’ He began counting and we all ran into the wooded area between our houses. I hid up in a tall, full-brush tree. I sat there for a while, waiting.

“I see you!” the boy said from the base of the tree, pointing up at me. I squealed in childhood surprise and giddiness and shimmied down the tree, trying to find a way to jump far enough from the trunk and run past him.

I attempted a leap from one of the low hanging branches, and the idea worked, I had managed to not be caught at the tree. However, I was not fast enough to reach the “safe” point and he caught me…by stabbing me in the back…with a knife. It was a blinding pain, I could feel my never shoot across my back violently.

Even though this kid does not exist in reality, I felt a huge “Et tu Brute?” moment as he twisted the blade next to my spine. We had had a huge dream history together. He had been my friend.

The game stopped at this point and I managed to get away, the pain slowly subsiding. But the terror didn’t end there. The rest of the game continued in a two person game of tag where I was always running from “it.” He caught a stabbed me several times in the back, chest, and stomach, and each time I managed to escape and heal only to be chased all over again. The worst pain was the being stabbed in the stomach. I remember crying. I have never been stabbed in reality, but my dream did a great job at making it feel excruciatingly painful.

I’ve experienced pain in my dreams before, usually by being bitten or scratched, but the stabbing was by far the worst.

 

Stealing Hearts and Moving Doors

I’m rarely the antagonist in my dreams, usually I happen to be the hero, an innocent victim, or a floating observer. Everyone once in while, I am the villain; performing heinous acts that range from annoying to disturbing. Last night, I was a very disturbed version of myself.

In the dream, I am myself, but not quite myself. I’m only about 13-15 years old, and instead of being curly blonde, I have straight black hair. I am also in a version of my childhood home that M.C. Escher would be proud of — random staircases that end in impossible angles, bizarre decorations, and doors that are able to slide across walls.

I was an angsty teen with a terrifying agenda. I wanted to make friends and keep them close to me…forever. And I had the perfect way of achieving this goal. I had just invited a dream friend over; she had pretty red hair and a shy smile. I was luring her into my bedroom, while trying to keep my annoying family out of the way. My brother (who was around nine) kept trying to barge into my bedroom to annoy us. I growled and grabbed the frame of my door and pushed it across the wall until it face outside and too high up for my brother to reach from the ground below. My anger was then replaced with a devious smile. I turned to my new friend, who was observing a figurine on my windowsill. I picked up a large book off of my desk and smacked her upside the head with it. She fell to the floor with a small thud. I pulled out a large, vintage box from under my bed, which contained a small dagger, a black notebook, and a large china doll with the same orangey-red hair.

The scene played out like a cheesy horror film as I cut out the girl’s heart in a gory fashion. Luckily, there was far less blood than there should have been. I pulled out the notebook and chanted a few words, the heart kept beating in my hand. I set the book down and grabbed the doll, which had a little latched opening in the chest. I shoved the beating heart in and locked it back up. The doll vibrated in my hand (not unlike a game controller) and then it blinked. Once. Twice. Then, it looked up at me. I smiled down at her.

“You are so pretty,” I told her. I cradled her in my arms as I stood up. I walked over to my closet door and slid it open. On the upper shelves of my closet were several other dolls — some female, other male — who all stared at me with frightened expressions. I placed the new doll in the empty space. I smiled up at all of them with pride. I loved them all.

Dream Score: 2/10. Whoa….that was a very disturbing dream. Like I said, I’m not used to being the antagonist. I think the dream came from the various horror short-stories that I have been reading (one of them did involve a haunted doll.) I swear I’m not a psychopath…points for creepiness, though.  

 

Beware of the “Buwaahhg”

I had a series of fever-like dreams on one summer night last year. These multiple and very short dreams were a combination of perplexity and horror.

We were visiting my fiance’s parents and sleeping in his old, upstairs bedroom in the summer heat, which I am considering a contributing factor to these dreams. In the dream, I awaken in my fiance’s bedroom. The room looks as it does in reality, and nothing in the room in out of place. However, there is a woman standing at the foot of the bed. She is a very petite (small build and about 5’ 1”) black woman who appears to be in her forties. There is nothing off about her appearance; she has average facial features and dark brown eyes — a very nondescript woman. Despite this, I can’t help but feel this overwhelming sense of dread as I sit up and stare at her.

“Beware of the Buwaahg,” she said in a very bland, monotone voice. I raised an eyebrow.

“The what?”

“I said, beware of the…BUWAAHHG!” she suddenly shouted as her face distorted into this horrific face. It nearly impossible to describe how terrifying she looked. Her eyes bulged as parts of her face appeared to sink in while others seemed to expand in size. The closest thing I can think of is the ending scene with Judge Doom in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?  Though even his deformed half-cartoonish eyes doesn’t match the level of distortion of this woman’s appearance. I scream and wake up.

I’m in R’s room again, I get up, still shaking off the weird dream I had. It’s morning, and I do to get my day’s clothes from my bag in front of the closet. I bend down to grab my bag when the closet doors pushed open.

“BUWAAHHG!”

I’m on a bus full of people, riding to an unknown destination. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turn around.

“BUWAAHHG!”

I’m walking around a mall, passing all the shops in a fast, tireless pace. I weave through the crowds of people. A group of girls moves out of my way. Behind them is the woman. I turn around to run the other way. She’s now behind me.

“BUWAAHHG!”

I was hiding in the woods. Trying to stay hiding, trying to be found by her. I climb up a tall pine tree. At the top of the tree the sky is clear and bright. Something tugs on my pant leg. I look down.

“BUWAAHHG!”

On and on it continued in various places. Over and over this woman would find me, her face would distort, and I would panic only to “wake” up in a new scene.

Finally, I actually woke up. I looked at the clock of the beside table. It was just after four in the morning. I blinked and the time stayed the same; I knew I was really awake. I took several deep breaths, feeling more exhausted than when I had fallen asleep. I meditated. I realized how silly the dreams really were, no matter how terrifying the woman’s face appeared. I convinced myself that I was safe and secure before falling back asleep.

I “wake up” once again in R’s bedroom. Like the first dream, everything feels so real. The woman is again standing at the end of the bed, staring at me.

“Beware of the…”

“No. No. NO!” I shouted, interrupting her.  “Enough! Leave me alone…and stop doing that thing with your face.”

The woman closed her mouth, continuing to stare at me, though she looked like she was thinking.

“Alright,” she said with a shrug and turned around. “But beware…” she trailed off she walked through the wall behind her.

I spent the next few hours sleeping far more peacefully than I had the entire night.

 

Dream Score: 1/10. I know it sounds like a stupid thing to consider a nightmare, but if people could see the face that this woman made, they might understand why this little lady was so terrifying. I give it the one point, because I was able to tell her off.

The Witch in the Closet

So, last week I talked about the first “weird” dream I remember having, this time I am going to talk about the first dream I ever remember having. This was a reoccurring nightmare that took place from a very young age until I was about seven.

In the dream, I would walk into my parent’s bedroom. I was dark and the room was filled with a sense of overwhelming dread that radiated from the closet. In the dream, there was a hole in the floor of my dad’s side of the closet. Even though I was terrified, I would still find myself walking towards the hole, then the hole would suck me in and I would fall straight down.

I would land in a world that had a dark sky and a flat, grey ground. There was nothing there, only a small, shabby looking house. Then I would hear  a loud cackle that emanated from everywhere. I would start running away from the house, knowing that the witch lived there. I would run and run, sometimes catching quick glances of her horrid, green face, but most of the time it was her spine-chilling laughter that followed me. I would always wake up from these dreams in a panic, and ironically, go to my parents room and hop into their bed.

Dream Score: 0/10. First real nightmare. It will never be forgotten.

-The End-