It happened again last night. One whole month of the same nightmare, I think. I don’t remember exactly when they started. I wasn’t one of those people who paid much attention to dreams or nightmares, thinking that they were just a psychological manifestation of whatever thoughts were floating around in my head while I slept. But after you have basically the same nightmare for a week, you start to pay attention. I tried changing my habits, my diet, everything that I thought could be causing the nightmare.
I even looked up some psychologist who specialises in dreams to try and sort it out. They said it must be some repressed trauma that they wanted to work through with me, but that’s ridiculous. I know - I know that by definition, I wouldn’t know that I repressed something. But I had a good life. I grew up middle class, only child, with both my parents in my life - they’re still together and we even go out for brunch every now and again - hell, I wasn’t even bullied in high school or had to deal with any creepy or mean teachers. All in all, I had a good life. I’m not going to say that they were bogus or that they were some shrink who just liked buzzwords. I’m sure they’re very qualified and genuinely thought it was trauma. What else could it be, right?
Well, according to the internet, I either have some degenerative neurological disease or I’m being haunted. And I learned from a very young age not to listen to the internet about medical conditions. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to find a religion that’s able to help me. Even the local church told me there were no signs of possession or hanting, and I was convinced that they’d at least try to sell me on it being a demon or something to convert me. Of course, if the priest did tell me that there was something haunting me, I’d have believed him. What else are you supposed to think when the nightmare suddenly changes when you’ve given up all hope.
It started the same way it always did, I would find myself in the middle of a field with a storm looming overhead. At first, I’d let the raindrops fall on me for a little bit, and after a short while, the rain would turn pitch black and become painful to the touch, like acid was being dripped on me - though, there wouldn’t be any trace of it on my skin. After the first week, I’d start running before the rain had a chance to become harmful. Slowly the darkness caused by the clouds would deepen behind me, following me, chasing me. Unlike the rain, I had never let this darkness catch up to me as if I knew that I wouldn’t make it out if I did. I just knew that I had to run and keep running. I didn’t know if my dream self had unlimited stamina or if it was pure adrenaline that kept me going, but it would continue like that until I tripped or was physically stopped from running. And then I would wake up.
After speaking with the priest, however, I could swear the darkness took a humanoid shape. If I slowed, claws would scrape along my back. If I turned around, bright yellow eyes stared back at me. And the laughter was as if the pits of hell opened up and gurgled with vile darkness. Whatever that thing, that shadow was, it was taunting me now. It knew that I couldn’t escape it, and it took advantage of that to torment me. Even the quickest of naps would be enough to summon it to my back. Those were the worst. It would lean right down next to my ear while I ran, its breath like volcanic smoke as it spoke - “wake up, my puppet”.
It got to the point where I didn’t want to sleep. I bought an espresso machine, and very quickly got my money’s worth, blowing through a bag of coffee in the first day. I stayed up and watched television while keeping my hands busy. I figured that if I just kept myself distracted, I wouldn’t fall asleep, and I wouldn’t have to see it again. Whatever it was, it only existed in my dreams. Unfortunately, while the coffee worked at first, the crash was inevitable.
If I had any doubts that this monster was taunting me, they were thrown out with this latest one. It started as it always did, but something felt different. It wasn’t until the rain started to burn that I figured out why. I was trapped in slow motion while everything else seemed to be moving normally around me. I watched the strange black liquid drip on me before I felt it, and it took every inch of my being to run from it this time. It wasn’t that I was feeling tired. On the contrary, I felt wide awake, my heart pounding against my chest painfully. It was more as if I was trying to run while submerged in tar. I thought for sure that it would capture me. Yet, it stayed right behind me, laughing at me, its cold claws scraping along my back.
I could feel its face next to mine, its acrid breath filling me with a sense of nausea and dread, forcing me to wake back up. As I jerked awake on the couch, my shirt clinging to my body with sweat, I could hear its haunting voice in the back of my mind - “Why catch you now, my toy, you’re nearly mine…”
It was that line that replayed in my head, over and over again, keeping me awake. I didn’t need any tricks to stay up anymore, the fear of what it meant did that all on its own. If my eyes ever dared close for more than a second, I could feel its face lean down next to mine, the smell of its breath filling my nose and forcing them back open with a jolt. I knew I couldn’t live like this, but I had no clue what else to do. I had stopped talking to people, stopped going to work or the supermarket, and I was running low on supplies. I thought of ordering in, but the idea of talking to anyone - of the fear and panic in my heart coming through into my voice - was too much to handle. It was safer if I just went out and got what I needed on my own. That’s what self checkout was for anyway, right?
Mustering up the courage to finally leave my house, I set out. God only knows how often I looked over my shoulder while going to the supermarket as if it was there, lurking in the shadows of every alley. I knew how I looked. I hadn’t slept in days, hadn’t taken care of myself for even longer, and I jumped at the slightest flicker of movement. People were staring at me, walking around me, and I didn’t care. How could I? What people thought of me was the least of my concerns. Let them think what they want. The only thing on my mind was how I was going to get from home to the supermarket and back. I hadn’t even thought of a game plan once I got there. I just figured that I would grab whatever I could to sustain myself for a little bit longer.
It was about half way there that the feeling that my paranoia was real started to kick in. I turned around and there was some kid in a hood, scratching at his arms, looking right at me - not even caring that I turned and looked back at him, his eyes staring right into my own. My heart was in my throat as I turned corner after corner trying to lose him without making it obvious that I was running away from him, checking over my shoulder every few turns to see if he was still behind me. Once I was certain that he had no way of knowing where I was, I leaned back against a cold wall, and slowly collapsed to the ground while praying that he wouldn’t find me. Fear overtook me as the light spilling into the alley disappeared, replaced by his shadow. I stood up immediately, backing myself further and further in as he walked closer to me, his pace matching my own.
“Please, please, please–”, I begged, tears streaming down my face as he walked towards me, his intent written on his face.
“I have to. It’s the only way…” he murmured back, so quietly that I nearly missed it - though I might as well have missed it, my brain not processing a single syllable over the absolute dread that I was going to die in this alley.
He reached into his pocket, and the instant I saw the faintest glimmer of light, I reacted, lunging forward and pushing his hand back against himself. The light faded from his eye as a warmness covered my hand.
“I’m free…” he whispered, “I’m free from the shadows…”
As he went limp on the ground, my heart sank and my blood turned to ice. That feeling was back. Its face was next to mine. The pungent stench of death and decay filled my lungs and I bit back waves of nausea.
“And you, my toy, are mine.”