Our dreams are a vague collection of our hopes and desires. That new car you so desperately want? Prepare yourself for some convoluted dream that signifies you wanting…well really anything in the most intricately layered manner. Nightmares are no different. Arachnophobia, or even just a lack of trust in a potentially disloyal spouse can spark the most confusing and sweat-drenched experience our subconscious can muster. I never knew such ignorance…such bliss. For as long as I can remember, I would dream of two siblings that lived in my dreams and my waking life.
I don’t recall ever having a different dream. Every dream, since I was a child in elementary school, I would dream of these two siblings and me sitting in a park. The park would always have this dim light that seemed almost artificial, replicating the light you would see in the early evening. There were sparse trees, an open field with a volleyball net, and the standard playground equipment you would find in the park.
The siblings were always an odd pair. One was an elderly woman, someone you could see being a close family friend with your mom or something. She always had her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders, with clothes you would find in a flea market. The other was a younger man, with short red hair that clung tightly to his scalp. He always dressed sharply in some manner that showed a certain arrogance, but his most commonly worn attire was a black suit with a red tie.
Between the two I was closest to the eldest. She always took the time to tell me stories, and they were so vivid and intriguing that I would almost find myself wanting to remain asleep forever just to hear them. During these stories, the younger sibling would always try to poke holes within the stories as well as mock me for humoring a senile old woman. However, with great patience and grace, the older sibling would always continue for the delight of my young mind. However, as I got older some changes started to become present.
First of all, I realized that their presence in my dreams could influence the real world. Whenever I woke up, items would be randomly rearranged by what I assumed was the mischievous younger sibling and there were little sticky notes that were signed by the older sibling I had started calling OG. I was careful to hide the notes thanks to the careful instruction of the older sibling, and I took the brunt of most punishments thanks to the mess the younger sibling would create. I even started feeling their presence through my day at school and later work, much in a way as you feel the presence of some entity after a long prayer.
As time went on, the younger sibling started to show up less and less. The rearrangement of random furniture and items stopped for a long time with the slow decline of the younger siblings’ appearances. When he did show up, he was rarely dressed as sharply as he would when I was young; the clothes he was wearing started getting more and more tattered. For the longest time, I paid it no mind, because even as I got older the older sibling always found a way to keep me engaged in the dream that I consistently had since I could remember. When you talk to the same people consistently throughout your life it’s impossible not to get close.
However, I grew more concerned when the older siblings’ demeanor started to change as well. She seemed anxious, and she reminded me of my mother who was always kind of a neurotic mess. This feeling of anxiety and dread would only be exacerbated by the infrequent presence of the younger sibling, who was growing more disheveled with each dream at this point. I even started waking up with random scratch and bite marks throughout my body. I assumed it was the younger sibling simply because it was always apparent he wasn’t a fan, but his issues only ever extended to snide remarks and harmless pranks. This last dream, the dream that inspired me to write this, showed a much darker side to the change in mood that had been felt in my dreams.
This last time when I had fallen asleep, instead of appearing in the same park that I had for so long, I appeared before an old train tunnel. It was dark in the tunnel, as well as all around me. There was the chirp of crickets and other nocturnal noises, but this darkness wasn’t natural darkness. It felt almost like it moved with me in every direction I looked. There was no way I was going to enter the tunnel, but I was prompted by the sound of the oldest sibling’s voice. “Do you want to hear a story?” I heard. This was so so odd, and I didn’t know what to do. So I stood at the entrance of the tunnel, nodding in the affirmative while realizing that she probably didn’t see it.
Before I could say yes, the voice continued anyway. “There were once two frogs that walked along a riverbed. They had finished a long day of play, and the older frog was ready to go back home before it was dark. However, the younger frog begged and begged to keep playing and exploring. Being the kind heart that the older frog was, they accepted and they continued further along the riverbed than they ever had before. They laughed and bantered until they came upon a baby mouse.
The younger frog was ecstatic because they hadn’t eaten in a while and this was the perfect opportunity to have a snack. The older frog saw something different, a new potential playmate that they could interact with. So instead, the older frog intervened and came before the baby mouse. The mouse took an instant liking to the older frog, so they agreed to meet at the same spot around the same time so they could tell each other stories and how their day went.
So they did, but the younger frog was envious. Over time, they showed up less and less. Because they were a lot more impulsive and relied on the guidance of the older frog, they ate and ate without inhibition. Because of this insatiable appetite, they grew more impatient. It even got to the point where they were staring at the older frog-like they would their prey. Eventually, because the older frog had truly abandoned the younger frog, the younger frog finally decided that it was time to cross a line they could never come back from.
So the younger frog ate the older frog, and then waited for the younger mouse to show up for some more good fun.” After the completion of the story, there was a brief silence. Then, I heard the soft crunches of someone walking up from the tunnel. I squinted my eyes, but I couldn’t pierce the unnatural darkness. The darkness suddenly parted, and what stood before me was a mockery of human anatomy. The limbs contorted in awkward ways, the head stood a couple of inches taller thanks to an elongated neck, and the breathing came out jagged and harsh. I tried to run, but I couldn’t in the same manner as you would in any nightmare.
The figure continued to walk until it got right up to my face, and while the darkness obscured most of its features I could still make out bloodshot eyes that glared with a maddening anger. Their breath smelled like death, and I cringed as it licked a blood-soaked tongue across my cheek. It stared its hateful eyes into mine as it said “Are you ready for some more good fun?”
At that, I woke up. I woke up with that same sense of death in my nostrils, and when I lifted my hand up to my face I felt a slick line of blood that went up my right cheek. I didn’t recognize the creature whatsoever aside from the crude replication of the older sibling’s voice and the disheveled look that could only remind me of the younger sibling. Those hoarse words rang through my ears, “Are you ready for some more good fun?”
I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I never told anyone about this until this post, because when I was younger I lived for the secret of the ordeal and as I got older I realized that anyone I told would merely assume I was crazy. I was looking back at some of the old sticky notes that would always await me when I woke up, and I couldn’t help but muse over the story. I never truly knew the younger sibling as well as the older sibling, but I now know him more than anyone could ever know. He was always a monster, it just took a mouse to show his true colors. I don’t know what will happen when I fall asleep next, so I will tell you this. Never take for granted your nightmares, because at least those aren’t real.