When I was a child we had a dog – a mix between german shepard and a labrador to be exact. Her name was Alma. Although I was quite young when she was alive, the memories I have of her are nothing but positive. It was a couple of weeks ago that Alma started to appear in my dreams.
I might be wrong, but from what I’ve heard there are few that can recall what we dream down to a T; whether our experiences are pleasant, surreal or nightmarish. At least, that’s how it was for me up until a couple of days ago because when I woke up I could recount just about everything.
In the dream, I was the same age I am now. I was standing in the woods and in the distance, between the trees, I could make out what looked like a house. It was quiet, apart from the distant sound a dog barking. Could it be, I thought. No, it was too good to be true, but what if? I started running. With a youthful agility and vigor that I hadn’t felt in 30 years, I skipped over roots and rocks. But no matter how fast or for how long I ran, the dog always seemed to be just out of reach. Eventually, I woke up.
My bedroom was illuminated by the streetlights’ dim glow outside. The faint barking had been exchanged and had transformed into the monotous hum from the inner city. Outside it sounded like someone smashed a glass bottle which was followed up by laughing. Seemed like some people had decided to start celebrating the weekend early. I only had one more day of work before I could fully kick back and relax. I got up, went to the bathroom and then went back to sleep for one more hour before I had to get ready.
That Friday was no different than any of the previous ones – replying to e-mails, making phone calls etc. Lunch. Talking with colleagues about their plans for the weekend etc. The memory of the previous night’s dream gradually drifted away throughout the day finishing up projects at work. After work I went out with some co-workers, had a couple of drinks and then went home at around midnight. I had all but forgotten about the dream, until I found myself in it again.
Once more I found myself in those familiar woods, only something was different this time around. Apart from it being night time, I could now also make out the contour of a dog among the trees.The faint light of the moon broke through the canopy, reflecting in the creatures short, black fur. It was moving away from me and as it started to blend in with the wilderness the barking picked up. It sounded playful, as if it wanted to show me something. I started running while calling out. But the same thing happened again. I just couldn’t keep up and as soon as it disappared, I woke up. Yet again I was greeted by the ambience of the cityscape. I’m not sure if it was because of something I ate or the dream I had just had, but I had a strange feeling in my stomach. I ended up making myself some chamomile tea. 30 minutes later I managed to go back to sleep.
The following days were uneventful. Even though I managed to supress my most recent dream as well, I still found them strange and oddly specific. But it was after the third one that I actually started to become concerned.
I had been working late and didn’t get home until 9 PM. After chatting to one of my neighbors, I unlocked my door and entered my apartment. Since I was tired and therefore had no inspiration to cook anything fancy, I ended up heating up a frozen dinner. It didn’t taste like much, but it would have to do. Afterwards I sat and watched TV before I ended up dozing off.
It didn’t take long before I yet again entered my dreamstate. Before me stood a large house in a clearing surrounded by vast and deep woods. I soon realized who the house belonged to. I hadn’t seen it since I was very young, but it was without a doubt my childhood home – the exterior painted in red, corners in white and with dark roof tiles. My dad’s old pick-up track stood parked on the gravel driveway, just outsided our garage. No lights were on, so I figured that either everyone was asleep or that they had gone somewhere on foot. There was quite a distance between our house and the closest neighbor, and at times you ended up feeling quite isolated. I was about to move closer when I heard something; a dog’s bark – identical to the ones I’ve heard previously.
I could tell that it was coming from behind the house. My old room was in that direction and my window faced the woods. As soon as I rounded the corner I spotted something at the forest edge. Beneath the starfilled sky, in front of the densely packed rows of pine trees, I could barely make out the shape of a shadowy figure. There was no mistaking it. Positioned in front of me was none other than Alma. I felt a jolt of happiness. As I already told you, I was very young last time I saw her. I was told that she had ran away and was never seen again. But here she was. Even though she was a creature of my imagination; I was overjoyed seeing my four-legged friend again. I started drifting closer, but as soon I was able to see her more clearly, I stopped.
Something felt ”off” and it didn’t take long for me to understand what the glaring issue was. Her black fur, the white teeth and heaving tongue, were nothing out of the ordinary. However, the more I focused on her eyes, the more they changed. Gone was the playfulness and her inqusitive nature. I distinctly recalled that they were hazelbrown, but now they were blue and cold as ice. They radiated a sort of hunger. A sort of emotionless and yet calculated intellect – rudimentary and bloodthirsty. There are animals that I can think of that could you give you that sort of look, but this was something more than just animalistic instincts – something more than just a predator. Before I could take another step, I woke up.
Next day, during lunchbreak, I snuck away to get some privacy. Once I knew the coast was clear and I would not be bothered by anyone, I started looking up sites that delved into dream interpretation. Not too surprisingly, there were many theories regarding what the dog could symbolise. Intuition, loyalty, genorosity and allegiance. But then I found an article regarding what it meant to dream about your OWN dog. According to the author; something or someone was missing in my life, but it could always mean that I should relax more and take a step back.
At the time it made perfect sense. Work had been very stressful as of late and I had just recently moved to my new flat. That said, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat weirded out by my most recent dream. My parents always spoke fondly of Alma, how she was a guardian – a protective and loyal member of our family.
Before I went home from work, I decided to have a word with my boss to see if I could use some of my vacation days to take care of some personal things. We’ve always been on good terms, so for her it was no problem. I decided that three days would be enough to recharge my batteries and get back on track.
I ended up spending most of my free-time unpacking boxes and fixing things at home, but I also managed to squeeze in a visit at a friend’s coastal house. The weather was great and the breeze was cool, the rays of the sun glimmering on the oceans deep-blue surface. We had a small barbecue and had a couple of beers while discussing everything from work to failed relationships. The hours just flew by and before I knew it the sun had started to go down. However, instead of taking the bus home, we decided that I would crash on his couch and head back to my place the next day. I slept like a baby and didn’t dream anything that night or the next. It was honestly a relief, but on the night leading up to work, it happened again.
I found myself in my old room, looking out the window. It was night time. Everything looked similar to how I remembered it. On the walls were posters of Transformers, Masters of the universe and other iconic franchises of the 80’s and 90’s. Every toy and action figure were lined up perfectly next to each other both on the bottom and upper shelves. My old Atari 800, that my older brother, Tom, had gifted me after he moved out, was connected to an old-fashioned tube-tv, that sat on top of a rickety tv-bench my dad hade built. Last, but not least, there was a desk cluttered with crayons, paint brushes as well as piles upon piles of sketchbooks containing my so called ”masterpieces”. The aforementioned window was situated just above the desk and I would often look out for inspiration. Now and then, the nightly breeze would make the blinds move gently.
I studied the outside more closely. Our lawn had just been mowed and I couldn’t see anything beyond the treeline. All was black and quiet, but soon enough the silence was broken. I had, for obvious reasons, expected to hear the same thing I’ve heard in previous dreams, at least sooner or later. However, this was different. It was a gentle, scratching noise – like claws scraping against wood. I felt unease fill me and so I naturally backed away towards my bed. Once there, I sat down and pulled up my legs. I glanced at my action figures, almost as if begging for them to come to my aid, but I got nothing but cold, empty stares in return. Every second felt like an eternity before the scratching eventually stopped and as it did, something started emerging from behind the window. Due to the lack of a sufficient light source I couldn’t make heads or tails of what I was seeing. It was shrouded in darkness, formless and blurry. I tried to back away as much as I could before my back touched the wall. I was cornered, bound to be devoured by whatever the thing was that stared in at me. Accepting fate even though it was just a nightmare, I shut my eyes, expecting to feel sharp teeth sink into my throat.
But nothing happened. Instead, I heard a soft whimper.
Gradually, I opened my eyes, still not sure what I would see. The room looked the same, but now I could make out what or rather who was looking at me.
It was Alma, my long lost four-legged friend.
She looked curiously at me, while her heavy breaths came out as small puffs of smoke in the cold night air. Her eyes had returned back to normal, now radiating love and devotion. I sighed deeply, and slowly got up from my sitting position, all the while she was studying my every move. The moment I had both of my feet firmly planted on the floor, I started sneaking closer to the window. I wanted to touch her. Run my fingers through her soft fur before reality would deprive me of my last chance to say good-bye. I would, however, not get the opportunity, because as I was about to reach out, that scraping sound returned – freezing me in my tracks.
I am not sure how to describe what happened next, but I’ll do my best. Shortly after the scraping resumed, we locked eyes with each other and in that moment everything changed. Alma’s loving gaze transformed from innocent to cruel. The warmth of her hazelbrown iris’ drained until they were icy blue; two frozen lakes encircling two precipitous pupils. The horrific realization soon dawned on me that I was no longer staring into the visual organs of an animal, but something that wanted to hurt me.
Believe me, I wish I could have woken up or at least will my ”dream-self” to run away, but it was as if some invicible force made me gravitate closer. For every step I took, I could feel how ”Alma” survyed me with an almost fiendish slyness; something I’ve never before seen in an animal. Nearer and nearer. It was useless to resist. My every attempt was futile. At this point the scratching had reached its crecendo after which it suddenly ceased. What followed was a brief silence, so prominent that you could hear a needle drop, before a new sound picked up. Something heavy was rubbing up against the wall; getting closer by the second. It was almost as if Alma was about to put up her paws so that she could heave herself into my room.
To an extent, I was right.
But what I saw gradually appearing behind the windowsill did not belong to a dog. It looked like pale, thick stumps; similar to a small crowd of chubby worms. They proceeded to grow in length, becoming skinnier until I could see that they were attached to wide and bony palms – humanoid hands, attached to the animals front legs. It was if they belonged there; a natural part of their physique. The grotesque appendages started to reach further into the opening; fondling the air like a disgusting insect. I tried to look away from them, but made the mistake of setting my eyes upon her face.
That horrible glass-eyed stare was now that of a snake charming its prey. Alma was, for a lack of a better word, ”smiling” and at times I could see her now cleft tongue slithering through her razorsharp teeth. I wanted to scream, but the sounds that came out of my mouth were nothing but pathetic yelps. I can’t be sure, but it almost felt as if my reaction amused that damn thing. Almost as if to insult me, the creature started mimicking my desperates cries for help. I couldn’t move a muscle, just stand there, helplessly witnessing how the hellish nightmare creature made its way through the window and land on the floor with a squelshing thud. The second this happened, I finally managed to get my bearings and scream for my life; a scream that would break down the walls of the nightmare and bring me back to world of the awakened.
I managed to untangled myself from my sweat-soaked sheets. My heart was throbbing, ready to burst through my chest, but eventually I managed to calm down. While focusing on my breathing, I tried to take in my surroundings. It was quiet apart from someone playing some sort of elctronic music in the flat above mine – as odd as it might sound, it actually helped me relax. It was if my heart synced up with the bassdrum, putting my mind at ease. Slowly, I turned to face the bedroom window, as if to make sure that the thing from my nightmare hadn’t followed me Of course.. I was alone. Just lamp posts and lights from other apartments. Further down the street a group of drunken youths were making their way downtown. I listened to them laughing and hollering until their voices disappared into the dead of night. It had just been a bad dream; a gut-wrenching, fever-inducing dream. I laid flat on my back in bed, taking a deep breath. I remained in that position until morning, as if to make sure I was still anchored in reality.
The following day was a saturday, which meant no work. With that in mind I made myself a pot of extra strong coffee, that I for some reason thought would help me keep the nightmares at bay.. But no amount of caffeine, sugary foods or watching Youtube for hours could prevent me from eventually passing out on the kitchen table in front of my laptop.
Oddly enough, I didn’t dream anything that night.
Next morning I decided that I needed a change of scenary, so I went to a café a few blocks away to eat breakfast. It was one of those hipster joints. It was literally packed. Once it was my turn to place an order I got myself a cup of coffee and a sandwhich; and soon enough found myself a spot in a somewhat private corner. But even the onslaught of voices and background music blasting from the caféterias soundsystem couldn’t distract me from contemplating the dreams, or should I say nightmares, that I’d had.
Once I got home I turned to the Internet again in search for answers, but came up with nothing. It was then that I realized that the answer had been right in front of me the whole time; my mom.
Due to how young I was when Alma ran away, my memories of how it all happened were extremely fragmented. As a matter of a fact, it was my parents that had told me. Had my brain, by its own accord, for some reason tried to find an answer? But why now? Tried as I might, I couldn’t come up with any sensible explanation.
I brewed myself a cup of tea, grabbed the phone and sat down at the kitchen table. After finding my mother’s number and pressing the call button, I looked out the window. Large, dark rain clouds had gathered above the roof tops. There was something threatening about the them, almost as if they carried more than just rain. A premonition? A warning of some kind? My train of thought got interrupted the second I heard my mother’s voice on the other end.
”If it isn’t the prodigal son! Hi, sweetie! Haven’t heard from you in a while. How are you?”
”Hi, mom. Yeah, sorry about that. Been busy. I’m doing ok, just getting settled in I guess. How are things in your neck of the woods?”
She was right. I hadn’t made any attempt at calling her ever since I got hired and moved to the new apartment. That said, I knew she wasn’t one to hold grudges. After my dad succumbed to cancer 3 years ago, me and my brother would call and make visits as often as possible. It was rough, to say the least, but my mother has always been able to bounce back, no matter what life has thrown at her. Compared to my dad, she was quite the extrovert and due to that she had many friends. So, in that regard, there was always someone there that she could talk when me and my brother were too preoccupied with our own lives.
After we discussing work, mom’s gardering and how much Tom’s twin daughters had grown, I drew a deep breath. This was it – time to grab the bull the horns.
”Mom, what really happened with Alma?”
She went quiet for a few seconds before she replied. I could tell that I had caught her by surprise, maybe even asked her something that I shouldn’t.
”What.. what do you mean?”
I steeled myself before elaborating.
”Not sure how to explain this, but.. I’ve been having these strange dreams as of late about Alma. It’s been so long since she ran away. I don’t want to make you upset by bringing this up. But, I really need to know. Is there something that you haven’t told me?”
Obviously, I couldn’t see her reaction, but part of me felt that I had touched a raw nerve or opened up an old wound. Without being able to stop myself, the words and questions started pouring out. I told her every single little detail about the dreams I’d had. She remained quiet throughout the entire thing. Once I was finished, she cleared her throat and said:
”I guess there’s no point keeping it hidden anymore. It’s been so long and you deserve to know what happened.”
By the time she started telling me what had happened all those years ago, the light rain had transformed into a violent downpour; hammering against the kitchen window. You could barely make out the buildings outside. It was as if the world was a canvas whose colors had started to wash away, giving the city this otherworldly, foggy appearance.
She couldn’t pin-point exactly how old I was when Alma disappeared, but she was certain it was during summertime. Alma was by no means a guard dog. That said, she was very attentive and would therefore react to just about anything. Since it happened so often and nothing ever came of it; my parents started seeing it as commonplace and therefore nothing to worry about. That particular summer, especially during evenings, she would go ballistic. Usually she was allowed to freely roam the yard unsupervised, but ever since she started behaving strangely, my dad would bring her in for the night. Then one evening, when he was busy working on something in the garage, Alma dashed away into the forest. My parents called out to her, but the only response they got were the fading sound of Alma barking and how she seemed to disappear deeper into the wilderness.
My mom was devastated, but my dad reassured her over and over again, that he had seen this kind of behavior before when it came to his grandfather’s hunting dogs. Apparently, they would sometimes catch the scent of small game, which would kickstart their primal instinct to hunt. It was, in his own words, ”perfectly natural”, but he also made sure to emphasize that they always came back home.
Unfortunately, Alma didn’t return the next day.
Dad decided to call his older brother, David, who was an experienced huntsman, to ask if he could help. Naturally, he obliged and showed up 20 minutes later in his pick-up accompanied by his two dogs; Chase and Cooper. As soon as the necessary preparations had been made, my dad and his brother, together with the dogs, went to work. Several hours passed before my mother saw them again and as soon as the two men appeared, she could tell something was very wrong. In his arms, my dad was carrying something that had been wrapped in a tarp.
I started to feel a tightness in my throat. She didn’t need to tell me what was in that tarp, because I already knew.
They had found Alma’s lifeless body a couple of miles in the woods, under a big pine tree. At first they thought that some animal had killed her; a wolf or maybe even a bear, but David ruled that out quickly. Even if the area was ripe with wild life, it was not very common that you would encounter any larger predators; at least according to his ”professional” take. But if that wasn’t reason enough to doubt the involvement of some woodland creature, the injuries that had ultimately taken Alma’s life, were strange to say the least. Upon inspecting the body closer, they found that she had been stabbed with something long and sharp, at least 20 times, before she was dragged away and hidden.
I was speechless; crushed and completely at a loss for words. Right after they found Alma, she called Tom who lived several hours away. She told him what had happened, but skipped out on most of the details. I felt angry, but at the same time I was young at the time – they knew that if they had told me what had happened, that I would be traumatised for the rest of my life. Mom’s voice quivered, as she tried to hold back tears. I didn’t have it in me to yell at her, to ask her why the hell she hadn’t told me sooner. I’ve no idea how long we sat silent before she spoke again. Apparently, that was not the end of it.
”After that.. things started to get even stranger..”
”What do you mean?” I said; my warm tears suddenly feeling cold against my cheeks. Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I was to hear.
A couple of days later, around 11 PM, I had walked into the living room where my parents were busy watching TV. I told them that I had heard a dog outside and how I was convinced that it was Alma that had finally returned. Since they had to uphold the lie, they dismissed this and then sent me back to bed.
A week past before it happened again. My mom was folding laundry when I came running, yelling that I had seen Alma. Before she could react I grabbed her hand and started marching back to my room. Once there, I pointed frantically at my window. She checked, but saw nothing other than the forest and darkness beyond. But just as she was about to turn away, she caught something in her periphery; a subtle movement in the night. For a second it had looked as if a shadow had slunk away from view. It was impossible to tell what it could’ve been, but at the time she chalked it up to a curious animal.
Roughly 4 days passed until the third incident, one that – judging from her voice, had really scared her.
It started off as any other day. It was a Saturday. Dad was, as usually, busy working in the garage while mom was in the living room relaxing and reading a book. I had some friends over, but since it was raining outside, we ended up just playing computer games.
Before I could ask, she told me that the police had already been there to investigate the crime scene. They didn’t find anything, but considering that it was ”just an animal”, they didn’t really seem to care. One of the cops even said that it probably just an animal, but none of my parents bought that explanation. Whatever was responsible for killing Alma, they prayed that it had moved on.
At 6 PM, dad drove home my friends and when he returned we had dinner. After the dishes were taken care of, we watched a movie and once the credits started rolling it was time for bed. Around midnight I woke up my parents. At first they thought I couldn’t sleep, but as soon I started talking, a chill ran down my mom’s spine.
She suddenly went quiet and for a brief moment all I could hear were her breaths. I tried to remain calm as I didn’t want to stress her, but sooner or later I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
”What did I say to you?”
”You.. you said that Alma had called for you again.” My mom’s voice was shaking.
”Ok… ”
She paused.
”You said she was scratching the wall just beneath your window, as if she wanted you to let her in.”
It felt like a thousand needles all at once pricked my skin. Then and there, I almost dropped the phone while trying to contain the fear I felt. While she might have felt relieved, being able to reveal the dark secret she had held within for so many years, I felt nothing but absolute terror.
She had picked me up while my dad went to investigate. Armed with a hammer that he had grabbed from his toolbox, he snuck into my room. 5 minutes later he came back, saying that all was clear. There was no one there, but just to be on the safe side he went outdoors to check as well. Nothing. Not a single sign of anyone or anything. The day after me and my mom went away for a couple of days to my grandparents place while dad stayed home.
Two days later, they got a call from my dad.
It is the following piece of information, the one missing piece of the puzzle, that freaks me out most of all.
Apparently he had received a phonecall from his brother, David, who had told him to come over ASAP. When asking what was wrong, he refused to explain and more or less demanded that my dad just got in his car and set off. Some time later, as soon as his brother’s house came into view, he noticed a police car parked outside. He could see how David just got done talking with two police officers, who both greeted my dad before they got in their vehicle and drove off. Once they were gone, David recounted everything he had just told the police.
About a day ago, Cooper, one of his dogs, had gone missing. At first he wasn’t really concerned as both of his dogs would go exploring every now and then, especially in the patches of wood behind his house. Once it got dark and Cooper still hadn’t returned, he went out to look for him. Oddly enough, and even with the help of Chase, he didn’t find anything. Eventually, he gave up and decided to resume the search the next day.
It was around 3 AM that he woke up to what sounded like a dog barking out back. Since he was quite delirious, but also a bit drunk, he wasn’t sure whether or not he was dreaming. He was about to pass out again, when he was disturbed by something else: a scratching. This bolted him awake. It had been very brief, but it had without any doubt come from the direction of his bedroom window. He got up and glanced outside, but saw nothing. Still, he decided to get dressed and head out, but not before bringing a flashlight as well as one of his hunting rifles.
Once he stepped outside he started calling out for Cooper. It was dark and cloudy; the only sound present the chilly breeze blowing through the trees. Other than that, it was as quiet as the grave. He started making his way towards where he had heard the barking. At the exact moment he rounded the corner, he saw something at the very edge of treeline. It stood on all fours, but it was no dog, no animal; not even a creature or anything paranormal.
It was a naked man. His appearance was wild and unkempt; long hair, full beard and long, almost claw-like nails. In one of his hands, he clutched what appeared to be a long knife-looking object that was coated with a dark, brown-reddish substance. He couldn’t recall how long they stared at one another. For a couple of seconds it reminded him of when he had been hunting in the past and spotted a deer, only this time, he didn’t dare to shoot. Instead he just stood there, frozen in fear. The strange, nude man studied him cautiously and before David could say or do anything, he let out a howl before hobbling away and disappearing into the darkened bossom of the forest. David remained still, listening to the sound of twigs and branches breaking before all was quiet again.
It was the last thing that David told my dad that made my heart sink into the pit of my stomach:
”Out of what I saw that night, the one thing that I’ll never forget are those damn eyes… so cold and blue… like ice on a frozen lake…”