Due to the nature of what I’m disclosing, I think it’s only appropriate that I take a moment and address you, the reader, directly. I may do this more as I revisit what I’ve written over these past years, but for now you can consider this a brief explanation of who I am, and why I feel the need to share my unconscious experiences this way.
I’ll start this off with a brief synopsis of who I am, at least, in relation to what I’m going to share below. Really though, who I am is nobody to write home about. Male, mid 20s, boring job, small apartment. The grandest of my achievements consists of a high school diploma and a drivers license. I’m average. All of that really isn’t relevant, just more of an image to put in your minds eye. What’s more, however, is that I am an insomniac, and a very vivid dreamer.
Despite how vivid they often are however, over the course of a day I find myself forgetting all but the most standout details. This started as a mild annoyance, but once I noticed that some aspects of these dreams became relevant in my real life, I decided to keep a book, logging each of my dreams with a brief synopsis. If for nothing else, just with the hope that it can jog my memories on the occasions that I find myself needing them.
I won’t be sharing every page here, really just to avoid the boring/personal ones. Some of these also may be written very stylistically inconsistent depending on how I felt upon waking. I will also omit some small details like names and exact locations. With that out of the way we can start here, with page six.
#PAGE SIX
I call this one “The Trailer Park”
Last night was another one of the trailer park ones, so I’ll just write here was usually happens in all of them.
Sometimes, recurring, I dream about bleeding in a trailer park. It’s sunny, and I’m running around outside, with that sort of gleeful ignorance only present in especially young children. The image I have of myself in this dream is very fuzzy and hard to describe in specifics. My skin is darker, I don’t believe I’m wearing a shirt, and couldn’t be any older than five.
Eventually, I will find myself on a neighbors land, and there will be piles of wavy scrap metal laying disorganized next to a dirty white truck under a metal awning. This, for whatever reason, catches my interest and I begin to climb the pile to reach the top. I remember having to do it on a shaded side, because the metal was far too hot where the sunlight had been hitting it.
I never get to the top though, and from here things play out like scenes rather than a smooth timeline of events. All I can really remember is laying on the grass and feeling like my mind is on fire. I can see a large gash in my leg, near my ankle, and weirdly I’m mesmerized by the amount of blood on the grass. I have never seen so much, it’s almost like a small pond growing around me and sticking down the grass. I sort of watch this in a silent awe for quite some time, before coughing a bit through a sore throat, and realizing I’ve been yelling the whole time.
Suddenly I’m laying on the floor of a dark and dirty trailer, surrounded by people. All of them have dark skin like mine, and I don’t recognize any of them, but I can tell they are my family. I just *know** *it. The woman nearest to me is sobbing, while everyone else is either staring at me or pacing around, and one of them is on the phone. I think I’m the only one in the room who isn’t scared. The fire in my brain has stopped burning, my whole body feels sticky, and I’m more or less just watching them move around and do what they’re doing while the room gets quieter and the light from the windows gets darker.
I always wake up once I can no longer hear anyone screaming.
Notes: This dream has always left me feeling distant and sort of not myself. It is also responsible for my current fear of sharp objects.
#PAGE EIGHTEEN/NINETEEN
I call this one “The Factory”
I’m in a red and white circus tent with several other people I know. They all seem to be going about tasks or resting, but I can get a sense from them that I’m the only person that doesn’t know anything about this place. Surrounding the walls are several hallways with different attributes. For example, one of them has a bright light inside with silver cutlery lining the immaculate white walls. Another has grey cloth lining the walls with a beige carpet, covered in stains. One of them has a door covered in key holes, and a knob so rusted that it takes all your strength just to turn it.
I approach my best friend, and ask him if he knows what we’re doing here. All he tells me is that I need to pick a hallway, and they’ll take care of the rest. Looking around, I notice that none of them seem preferable in particular. All of them frighten me for different reasons, and choosing one really feels like an unwinnable situation. No one in the room is talking to me, or for that matter even looking at me, while I try to make up my mind.
I decide to just walk into the one closest to me, which has dim yellow lighting and walls covered in rusty pipes. The air smells like soil and old paper, and everything that surrounds me is damp and cold. Eventually, the hallway leads me to a massive expanse of a room with barely any visible light, save for bright spots on the impossibly far ceiling that that cast down just enough for me to make out my surroundings. Almost everything is made of a deep grey concrete with smooth cracks along the surface, and ahead of me is a massive lake of brown liquid, with an angular twisting path of the same concrete going across it, which is intimidatingly thin. On the other side of this lake however, is an indescribably large wall made entirely of overlapping rusty pipes. From this wall I can occasionally hear distant creaking and shouting.
My best friend meets me in this room, seeming equally as disinterested in me as before. He tells me that I have to cross the lake by walking along the path through it, and doesn’t give me much more information aside from saying “Mind your step” as I approach the edge of the lake. I reluctantly agree, and step forward onto the concrete pathway. As I begin to walk across, my leg is swiped at by a bloated, pale hand coming up from beside the path. As I look closer, I can see dozens of these arms dotting the water, but they seem to move rather slow and placated. Some are also much more aggressive than others.
Being careful to avoid the arms I carry on, when suddenly I feel the overwhelming urge to cry. As I continue the feeling gets progressively more intense, until eventually I feel the need to just give myself to the lake and let the arms pull me under. I’m careful to not say or do anything to indicate this, but from afar I hear my friend yell in a kind of snide but bored tone “Think twice before you do that.”. This sort of reassures me to keep going, further trying to block out the burning sadness and growing anger in my head.
Upon reaching the other side and stepping off the path, suddenly and almost immediately my emotion shifts from anger and sadness to pure hopelessness. It’s as if every aspect of who I am is against me, and nothing I can do will ever pull me out of this terrible future I’m facing. It feels like being chained up unfathomably tight, and being told that fighting is pointless. That you’re going to die here. - I look back across the lake at my friend. I can barely see him walking away on account of the darkness and sheer distance, but I can tell he’s leaving. I know what he wants me to do though, despite instruction. I need to climb the wall.
As I begin to climb higher, I can hear the pipes making the same creaking sound under my weight that has been echoing through the chamber since I arrived. Sometimes, I can hear other people screaming from various directions along the wall as well, and as I progress, I eventually see a figure climbing up the pipes with me, about 200 feet to my northeast. I call out to them, but they ignore me and keep climbing, as do I. I eventually hear them scream as well, but I’m too far to make out where they are by this point. I feel as if I’ve climbed for hours, and stopping to take a rest, I look down at the floor. Below me, I can make out two figures on the ground. One is leaning against the wall near the entrance, and the other is crossing the lake path. For whatever reason, I don’t find this noteworthy, and press on.
Up ahead of me I can see a light shining through a section of the pipes, and feel an overwhelming need to climb to it, despite that the longer I look at the light, the more it frightens me. When I reach it, I can see that it’s a gap in the mesh, and looking through it shows the other side of the wall.
I can’t describe exactly what I saw on the other side, just that I know it was everything I have ever wanted. It was like looking through a porthole at a perfection, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Suddenly, the pipes began to close around it and shift to obscure my view, and before it was closed, I let go of the wall and allowed myself to fall, knowing that nothing else this place had could ever be so perfect.
I wake up here.
Notes: Notably, after this dream, my fear of being restricted (Merinthophobia) has seemingly gone away, or at least, become much more manageable. I’m not entirely sure why that is, but it feels like it had a lot to do with my choices. I actually really hope that some night I will find myself back in that tent and can choose another hallway. ___
#PAGE TWENTY
I call this one “The Old Man”
I had another one with the old guy in it. I feel like I’m going to use this page to describe it, but also in general what he is in my dreams.
The old man is a recurring theme in seemingly any dream I can be having. He’s African, with short grey hair and some unkept stubble. He wears a thick beige coat with a stained grey shirt underneath, and some worn looking slacks. He always looks very sad, like he hates what he’s doing but doesn’t have much of a choice.
In my dreams, regardless of what I’m doing (Usually shopping), whenever I see this man, he will kill me. I will always wake up immediately after I die in the dream, and quickly forget all the details associated with the dream save for the moment leading up to my death. He always does it with a small silver gun, hidden in his coat. When he points it at me, he is usually hesitant for a moment while I can watch tears build in his eyes and his lower lip quiver. For some reason I never try to run, I just watch until he pulls the trigger and I wake up with a jolt.
This can happen in really any of my dreams, even recurring ones, like the lighthouse, the trailer park, and the library. It often feels like it happens before the climax, like he’s actively taking the dream away from me before I get to experience it. Needless to say this is very frustrating sometimes.
Despite this, I can still remember the events of the very first dream I had about him, and I will describe that dream below, albeit short;
I’m walking in a heavily populated downtown area in the summer time. The day is gorgeous, and I feel strangely attractive, zen, and perfect, like nothing could possibly throw off my mood or trip me up. The sidewalks are brick with lush green trees and twisting vines covered with moss going up the sides of the curb and through the mortar, kind of like downtown Asheville. I can smell the cafes and pop up shops making a myriad of things that I probably can’t afford.
As I’m walking, I happen across a tea shop next to a book store. It looks like a little hole in the wall type thing, like a local secret where hipsters like myself go to feel distinguished and full of themselves. I decide to step inside, obviously, and I’m greeted by a nice girl behind the counter who asks me if I’m looking for anything in particular. The shop is empty and I can tell she’s bored, so I just say I’m looking for something to help me sleep and follow her lead.
The moment feels almost perfect and I love hearing her speak, but as I’m listening to her near the back wall, an old man walks in. He looks fairly worn out, and his attire is confusing considering such a warm day outside. He looks directly at me, and suddenly when I turn around, the woman I was speaking with has vanished. Now, when I look back at him, I can tell that he is incredibly sad. He simply radiates regret, and the feeling fills the whole store and makes me feel very inexplicably empathetic.
Then, without a word, I see him reach into his coat and pull out a small silver hand gun, pointing it straight at me. Seconds start to feel like minutes, and right when I start to notice him cry, he pulls the trigger.
I woke up from here, rather alarmed.
Notes: As stated before, this one happens quite often and I usually cannot get back to sleep once it occurs. The part of it that really gets me though, is that I have seen this man on multiple occasions in my real life. He never seems to pay any attention to me, and for all I know could just be a local that likes to shop where I do and stuff, but I swear to god I would recognize his coat and stained shirt anywhere. I always make a point of leaving quickly after I’ve noticed him, which honestly I usually regret, but I cannot help but feel like I’m going to die. ___
#PAGE TWENTY TWO
I call this one “Happy People”
I wake up in my bed, like I usually would any other day, but I notice my girlfriend is not next to me. This isn’t unusual, she’s probably just doing her morning routine, and I elect to just grab my phone to check the time/browse reddit until she comes back. Fast forward a bit, and it has been a notable amount of time since I’ve seen her, or for that matter, even heard a sound in the house. I get up to check if she’s still home only to find her standing in the kitchen, looking right at me.
She has a smile on her face, strained and impossibly large. Her eyes are wide, like they could pop out of her head almost. She’s unwaveringly still, with her arms at her side, and as I move closer I notice that her head moves to keep her gaze fixated on me with an unnatural smoothness. I’m put off, but we mess with each other all the time, so I tell her “good morning” and try to pull her in for a hug. She doesn’t respond, and stays firmly planted where she stands, keeping her glare right into my eyes.
For some reason, after this, I feel compelled to leave. I walk outside, leaving the door open, and get into my car to drive somewhere, though at this time I haven’t really decided where I’m going. Strangely, my car is the only one on the road as I drive, and the only other people I see the whole way are beggars standing on the medians of intersections. I don’t get a great look at them, partially because all of the lights are green, and partially because I am actively choosing not to look. I can always see out of the corner of my eye that they’re smiling just the same as my partner was back home. They watch me as I pass, holding their cardboard signs and whipping their heads in the same unnatural smooth motion as I pass.
I arrive at my local shopping mall and am met with an empty parking lot. I know something is off, but I desperately want to be in a high population area, just to find absolutely anyone to simply be close to like a pack animal. To my initial relief, the mall is filled with people, but none of them are moving. Every single one of them, even on the upper levels, has a gaze fixated on me with locked eye contact and a pained looking smile. I walk through here for a while, but I’m not really sure why. I guess I just wanted to explore or figure this out. I go in and out of several stores, not taking anything or talking to anyone, just trying to get a read on things. After some time I decide to just go back home.
I get in my car, and start to drive back, and I notice that the sun doesn’t seem to have moved at all since I woke up in the morning. It’s almost as if despite my clock, it has been roughly 8am for the whole afternoon. When I park my car and arrive back, my girlfriend is still standing in the exact same place with that exact same smile. I tell her I love her, kiss her forehead, and go back into our bedroom to lay down. When I fall asleep, I can see myself in bed from a third person view. I watch my girlfriend walk into the room, and stop at the end of the bed. She stops smiling, and stares at me.
Suddenly dozens of people come through the door I left open. I’ve seen most of them around my complex, and all of them walk up to the bed to join her. I then get a wide view from high above the trees, and can see hundreds of people walking towards my home before the dream ends.
I woke up here.
Notes: Ever since I had this dream, I’ve noticed a very strange phenomena. On rare occasions when I’m about to blink, right before I close my eyes, I can see any person I’m talking to or looking at making the same horrible face and looking dead into my eyes. The person doesn’t have to be looking at me, and on occasions whole crowds will be affected. As soon as I open my eyes though, it’s all back to normal. I have not told anyone about this, it feels best kept to myself. ___
#PAGE TWENTY EIGHT
I call this one “Blue Girl”
This one was short, but I’m still quite shaken from it.
It starts off with me and my mother together in a dark room, with a lit fireplace centered along a long wall, and her laying on a sofa adjacent to it. On the short end of this room was a hallway, and all of the walls are painted a deep maroon. Strangely, this room doesn’t seem to have an entrance, and the concept of leaving it feels entirely foreign. I ask my mom where we are, and she tells me to go to my room, pointing towards the dark hallway. Feeling almost child like, I obey her and walk down the hall until I find a white door.
When I open it and go inside, it’s almost an exact replica of my childhood bedroom with maroon walls despite the walls from my room being blue, and there being another door I’ve never used on the southeast end. I open this door to see what’s inside, and I find out it’s a bathroom and that’s it’s incredibly filthy. Dirt and grime cover the old yellow tiles that used to be white, and the smell is of soil and old news papers. There are some rusted pipes on the walls that are softly vibrating, and everything is slightly damp despite the tap not working. Suddenly, I hear something from outside the bathroom, like someone just clicked their tongue loudly from my bedroom.
I open the door to investigate, and sitting on my bed I see a girl in a white dress. She has blue skin and black eyes. I cannot describe how much she terrified me, it was as if I was staring at the concept of death itself. Her aura was like if you tried to describe “Cold” to someone who had never been able to feel. It was impossible and stifling, I was frozen in place and for some reason felt completely out of breath, like I couldn’t even scream. I eventually found just enough composure to run out of the room and back to my mother, who as still laying on the couch and staring at the fire adjacent to her.
I asked her if she knew what was in my room, and she said “You’re replacing her. Break her.” and then she fell asleep. She went completely unresponsive, and as I tried to shake her awake, I realized that all I could do here was go back into my room to confront the blue girl. For some reason, now all I was feeling a blind rage. It was as if every moment of anger I had ever felt in my life was her fault, and it was all flooding back into an unstoppable wave of blind hatred.
I marched back down the hall and into my room to confront her, but this time the girl lunged at me from the bed, clearing the whole room in one movement. She began to pin me down with an emotionless face, and her arms were so impossibly stiff and strong that I could do nothing to fight her. She hit me once in the chest, hard. Just from that one blow I was so winded that I couldn’t make a sound, and suddenly all of my anger had turned to that familiar paralyzing fear I felt before.
The girl drags me to the bed, and I can feel her cold and lifeless hands gripping my ankles like a vice. She hits me once more, this time feeling more vital yet much less painful, and she props me up on the bed against the wall. I can no longer move, but I can hear her crawl under the bed and out of view. I can tell by this point, I’m dead against the wall, like I have a perfect understanding of my mortality now and I am 100% undeniably dead. Suddenly though, unprompted, I can feel myself click my tongue. Then, unmoving, I watch as the bathroom door begins to open.
I woke up there.
Notes: Today, I am one of 5 people I’ve spoken with who have dreamed about the blue girl. Accounts differ, but the theme of “Cycles” is generally always present. These people I’ve talked to are also usually very vivid dreamers, and generally share a similar feeling of impending dread when the subject is brought up. It’s almost like once you’ve had that dream, it takes a part of you when you wake up. ___
And for now, I’m going to wrap up. I’ve been copying these off the pages for a while and there are still many many more I can share if people are interested. I get this isn’t your typical spooky reading type of submittal, but I’ve had a fair amount of people tell me they love hearing me talk about my dreams and how detailed they can me. I figure hey, if I’m going to write about something to keep you up at night, it might as well be the thing that keeps me up at night too!
Will update this based on interest, and feel free to ask any questions! Thank you :)