It’s 3:30AM, and I wake up kicking, yelling, punching out with my arms, and fighting for my life.
I DON’T DREAM, I ONLY have NIGHTMARES.
It is not unusual, for me, to slip into the other world, where nightmares exist, it seems natural, an uncomfortable, normal, creepiness.
All of my nightmares could be trailers for Stephen King movies. My nightmares are strange, dark, dangerous, and psychologically upsetting.
This one begins with me, a niece, and two younger nephews, roaming around in an old, abandon building, like an old government office building from the early 20th century.
The floors are wooden and worn out, and in some places, if you are unlucky, your foot could go through the rustic floor, or maybe you could fall straight down….to your demise I would guess.
As we walked, carefully, around what must have been the 4th or 5th floor, all that we saw were old people, old geezers just sitting around and talking, standing along walls that seemed like they had been through a war. High-explosive round (bullet) holes covered the walls, like you might have seen in the buildings of wars past and present. The quite present dangerous conditions of the building did not seem to bother, or matter, to the old people who almost looked like they belonged there.
Were they ghosts?
I am unsure, but they were weird-looking, illuminated-like, and they didn’t seem to acknowledge us in anyway as we roamed around, obviously we were looking for a way out of this creepy place.
We carefully ran around the corner of one corridor, and down at the end of a long, empty, and dark, hallway, lit with a sliver of light coming from a crack in the roof, we saw a stairway. Our escape!
Of course, we felt a little relieved that there was finally a way out of this horrible place. When we got there, I strongly instructed the kids,
“I will go first, and you follow me carefully!”
The stairwell looked like it was about as steady as a drunken, one legged, pirate!
Nevertheless, it seemed to be our only way out. We walked down one floor of the rickety stairs, and then, we had a “Mr. Bean Moment“.
If you are not familiar with Mr. Bean, well check out the episode, “Mr. Bean Goes on Vacation”, or something like that — I may have the wrong episode.
Nevermind….But a “Mr. Bean Moment” is when you are going down a flight of god-awfully long-winded stairs, and you run into a geezer who is going so slow, and taking up the entire space of the stairs area, that you cannot politely pass, without pushing said geezer out of the way. LMAO. It sounds like I am anti-geezer, but I am not. I think many old people are fantastic, and I too will be a geezer someday.
Anyway, so we get down one floor of stairs, and then we run into this white-haired lady, and she is struggling, slowly, and painfully, to get down each stair, and she is taking up all the space in the stairway! The only solution in this nightmare, to solve this problem, this Mr. Bean Moment, would be to throw her over the side of the stairway, and “bombs-away”, Mr. Bean Moment solved!
HOWEVER…We didn’t do that, we patiently creeped behind her, and her mutant, freaky dog, that had such short legs, huge feet, and a wrinkled, old lady-face. It was a mutant creature dog, humanoid-dog, weird, hybrid, insane creature!
This mutant followed right behind the old white-haired lady, who by the way, never showed her face in this nightmare. Since the mutant’s legs were shorter than the distance down to the next step, it kind of just rolled off one step, down to the next, smashing its head into the next step, each time. What a total mutant-disaster!
As the narrator of SpongeBob would say: “Three hours later……”
We get down to what seems to be the bottom floor, and the area is filled with green, foamy, dirty, dank-smelling, putrid water. I couldn’t see to the bottom of the water, and it seemed strange, ominous, nothing about it seemed right.
We had a choice to turn around, go back upstairs and try to find another exit, or go forward into the unknown. Well, before we could decide, I see the old lady step into the water, and she struggled in what seemed chest-high level water, and then she disappeared! Just like that, she was there, and then she was gone. Before I could do anything, the mutant had reached the bottom stair where the murky water met the slime-covered wood, and then the mutant rolled into the water and sank! I desperately reached out with my arm to grab the little freakish thing, but I could not save it—the mutant also sank out of sight.
I told the kids,
“I’ll go first, this doesn’t seem right, maybe I can still save them, but I need to take my boots off first.”
(Good Grief!!! In my nightmare, my boots took priority over immediately diving in the water to save the geezer and the mutant! What has happened to me?!?)
I didn’t want my leather, tacticool boots to get waterlogged. Priorities, you know!
I sat down on one of the dry steps and started to untie my boot, but it turned into a knotted mess. As I struggled to un-knot my lace, I saw two beady eyes staring at me from under the surface of the water. And at the side of the stairway, where the old lady disappeared, much to my great fear, a huge crocodile glided by under the water—it was humongous!
Before I could react and move back up the stairs, the “beady-eyed” monster jumped out of the water and its powerful jaws, filled with long, razor-sharp teeth, clamped down on my boot. I grabbed onto the wood of the dilapidated stairway, but there was no escape; the crocodile-like monster was locked onto my foot, my grip was giving way, and as I was being dragged into the wet, green death-grounds, I reached out my hand, and with a terrified look of anguish, and realizing I was totally fucķëď, I looked up at my niece and nephews as I bounced down off the last two or three stairs, kicking at the nose of the beast, THERE WAS NO HOPE….The grip was final, and fatal. Into the dark I went, SCREAMING at the murky, dark death-pond.
That’s when I woke up screaming, and fighting, and kicking!
What a füçķîńğ great night.
I haven’t been able to sleep since the nightmare.
Since it was very vivid, and very telling for me, I thought I had better write it down before the details fade from my NIGHTMARES MEMORY ZOO.
I told myself, after coming to my senses, and was more alert, “How poetic this nightmare is…this is my life. Constantly being pulled into some really freakishly scary, dark water.”
So….that was tonight’s main feature. So entertaining. So disturbing.
I do hate crocodiles! I love dinosaurs. But crocodiles are living dinosaurs! I’m so conflicted on that. Argh!