Remembering dreams: not always great

I woke from a nightmare.

I was in my childhood home. In it, there was a man who lived with his parents. He was both me and not me. Like I was riding in his head and knew what he was going to say but I couldn’t make any decisions.
He lived in the house and it was just him living his life. The whole time there was a vague unease. Like everything and everyone was subtley off. It seemed that this man’s parents flinched from him. Everyone he met seemed to interact kindly to him but all with a vague air of fear almost. And I feel it too. This vague pressing sense of dread fills every action, look or words.

He took his parents out for a drive. And he told them he wanted to show them a house he was going to buy. The father was in real estate and he knew there were no houses in the area up for sale and their fear ratcheted up. He told them not to worry, that he knows of a house about to be available.

He turns a corner in a street in my childhood neighborhood. And points out a large grey house. 2 stories with a covered carport. There are a couple of cars out front and a woman gets out of one. She is crying and has a bundle of red roses in her hand.
Someone from the house meets her on the driveway and they hold each other and cry. There are no ‘for sale’ signs on the house or any indication that it is or will be up for sale. It hits me and the parents at the same time. The only way to know that this house will be for sale soon is to arrange it. This guy who is me and not me has killed whomever is in the house. I’m shocked and incredulous. The parents are scared and less shocked. More resigned. Like this was something that they were hoping wouldn’t happen Again. Like they have been living with this secret monster for years. They drive home.

Then there is one of those jump cuts and the man who is me and not me is talking to someone on his porch. The parents are there but they seem like caricatures. I am no longer in the guys head. I’m watching in the third person and also feel trapped.
The guy who looks like me invites the guy in. He feeds him and paralyzes him. Informing him that his meal was his last guest and did he enjoy it. The parents seem to waver then like they aren’t there. Like I’m in this me/not me’s mind and he sees the parents but they aren’t really there.

He invites in people and kills over and over again. And I’m trapped watching him. I can’t wake up. One of his victims gets away. I, somehow, am then seeing through the victims eyes. I nudge the person to certain places in the house. Places he can barricade. Me/not me hunts him. And victim/me starts to panic. We close a door but it won’t latch and we put a small metal step ladder in front of a door, under the handle but the serial killer hits the door in such a way that it pops it open. We slam the door shut on his hand and he howls in agony. The victim opens the door and pulls the killer halfway in. He pounds the killers skull in with the door pinching the skull like semi hard candy until a part of it breaks away and there is a little boy version of me/not me. There is also a apparition of this person’s mother who talks to the boy. Telling him what to do.

I/victim run and we get away. As we run I, but not the victim, hear the ghost mother telling the boy to eat up. That he needs to heal and eating this brain (his adult brain) will heal him. Like he’s some kind of immortal monster trapped in some pocket dimension reliving his life and death over and over again.

The victim gets far enough away and I wake. Heart pounding. Full blown panic attack. From a nightmare.

My nightmare, my hell

Just woke up from a nightmare, my kind of nightmare, no maniacs or feelings of dread or anything. I have tripwires are the best way to describe it that will wake me to lucid dreaming if those happen.
This was at a vast mansion party. It was filled with debauchery which I’m normally fine with but there was a pervasive understanding that the people were being forced to participate. There were women wearing heavy chain collars described as soul mates of the person they were with who were forced to perform sexual acts on people other than their desire at the urging of their so called mates and both had hollow eyes empty of desire and this element of silent pleading.

All around broken people perverted love to satisfy physical lust. There was no passion or desire just the physical moment of release without any emotional connection. Anyone in one of the heavy chain collars was meat for the feast. These were all the so-called soul mates of others who had enslaved them and destroyed their will to the point where this was accepted. But there was no joy in it.

This is what the general public views BDSM as. This breaking of the will and using of others for pure physical release. And it is a perversion of all that I’ve enjoyed in the lifestyle. Of everything that I am.

There was no love there. No joy. No pleasure. No consent. Just destruction of sacred bonds and me, a ghost at the feast.

I couldn’t act. Couldn’t stop it, couldn’t twist the dream. I was awake enough to remember. Awake enough to be aware but not awake enough even to save those people.

It was a nightmare. To me, a living hell. A perversion of everything I’ve ever stood for or tried to convey. Sex disguised as love and rotting at the root of those involved. Destroying their ability to see and love. To see love as something other than this fear and destruction. And any that break free of this, few as there was the sense that the only freedom offered was death, there was only isolation and despair. The bedrock belief that none could love them after this experience.

It was a nightmare of epic proportion to me. I wish I could say that I woke of my own volition. But it felt like I was released.

Now, I want to find that dreamscape lucid and burn it down. Even as a dreamscape it is fundamentally wrong. And I can’t allow it to exist. Which may sound like madness. But I’m a dream walker. And it may be madness but, sadly, that doesn’t make it less real.

I have to confront the dream to make myself sane. To not allow the fear of that place win.

I just had the worst dream I’ve ever had.

I just had the worst dream I’ve ever had.
I was in my home city but it was as if everything had become run down and shady. All of the apartments buildings were crackhouses and drug dens. The businesses were pawn shops and thinly disguised brothels. I was at one of the apartments retrieving my cat Dylan (Thomas not Bob). I was walking to my car when I was interfered with. A group of mobsters were around me and were trying to extort me regarding some other piece of business. They escalated to a physical confrontation. I pulled my blade and cut them to ribbons. I was going for the last and most dangerous and somehow a person I love got between me and my quarry as I was delivering a killing blow. I saw the look of surprise on her face and then her throat parted. Everything in the dream came to a full stop. I screamed for minutes, for hours, for eternity. Holding her in my arms. The cops showed up, too late, and with her dead in my arms, I went after the cops hoping they would kill me. They didn’t. I was kept alive for some reason. I was trying to taunt them into taking the shot when I woke. I felt the pain in my heart as if it had been ripped out. My throat felt like I had been screaming but people in the house say no. Even now, I’m haunted by the image. I would do anything to make it not happen. Even though it was ‘only’ a dream.

I had a nightmare

I had a nightmare
It was a dream I’d had before, in some variation. I was walking in my parents backyard. I was talking to some people who I had the impression that they were family. We were trying to get to the house because the house was safe. Safe from what, I didn’t know. We were running away but before we did that we had tried to fight. As ninjas this time for some reason. We failed time and again until the only option left was to run. So we ran and we had made it to outside parents house. But it’s in a place where I have always had the feeling it was hungry. When I was young, the nightmare was that animals or bugs carpeted the ground and every time I tried to cross it I’d almost get devoured. This time there was a thing in the shape of a man standing by a tree that had no business being there. We were resting and it was searching for a way in, almost like it was trapped. Eventually it pushes its way into the world/area we were at. Part of that was I taunted it for some reason. I don’t remember why but it invaded and turned into a raving ravenous creature. It cut through us and the only thing left was to run. We were almost home but it was too far, and everyone but me fell. All alone I make the door and slam it shut. The turn the bolt but it fails to strike home and I get the sense that this is where I died previous times. But I am lucid dreaming at this point and I slam the bolt home. The thing is screaming and raving outside, talking about what bits it wants to eat. But I control the dream and I cage it in light. Again I get the impression that this had failed on prior occasions, but this time the cage is strong enough. This time the being is destroyed. I sever it’s ties to the yard and make the area inhospitable to creatures of its kind. Then I wake up

Sometimes sleeping sucks

Just sitting around at 4 in the morning, unable to sleep. Or rather I did sleep for about an hour. But then my dream turned all creepy, with the door to my bedroom open, which it never is. And murmuring voices right outside of it. And I kept getting up to close it only to find myself back in bed, looking at the open door. After about 15 tries and rising panic, I managed to force myself awake. So I get to deal with that panic and being bone tired but kinda afraid to go back to sleep. And wondering if this is real, as all of the trapped in my dream effects cause this disjunction in what seems real.

A nightmare

So my brain finally figured out something that would scare me and not trigger one of my subconscious tripwires. Which draw me into a lucid dream should a nightmare prove too scary.

It was pretty typical weirdness. A pharaoh brought back to life, filming a movie and not being friends with the extras who didn’t want to be friends with us anyway. A house party, and a snowstorm.

Then I receive a email. A email chronicling the manipulations of the person I’m in love with. The person who (in the dream) is manipulating me. Screwing with my head just because she can. Laughing about how she got my trust. Got into my life. About how utterly foolish I am. About how she got access to my wordpress account.

About my wordpress account being scoured of content.

I rush to check it and I’m locked out. I reset my password and get in and everything is gone. The account isn’t deleted. But everything is gone. Just this barren shell of everything I’ve written and worked on for more than 3 years.

Then I forced myself awake and it was one of those times where I kept waking but not up, just into another dream. Making it particularly horrible.