Nightmares worth publishing.

At times I'm rather convinced I'm at my very best when I'm sleeping. I have vidid interesting dreams inlcuding music, irony and get this, several plots in the same dream. Maybe I'm injured by what I spend my days doing, but even when I woke up crying from fear I thought to myself, in that brief moment before you decide you're too tired to do anything other than falling asleep, I should really work on this and make it a good story. Shit pommes frites, think I remember all the details? Hardly. But it was scary. Very scary, it's that nearly untouchable that makes it unbearable. Not quite knowing what's going on but at the same time being fully aware. Yes, I do see the connections to the hours I spend being awake.

The thing was, that even though I managed to fall back asleep I had another nightmare, even worse than before. I don't know how it is when everyone else is dreaming as I am after all, and thankfully, only capable of being in my own head, but I somehow felt the breath of a rotting zombie on my neck and I looked in the eyes of warewolves while I could smell them. I could feel the boys pain while be was being raped in a barn, I could touch the cold metal of the bus that had been rushing towards me when I jumped to the side and reached my hand out. I couldn't save the boy, the passengers nor the teenagers dressed in neon colours who fell prey to zombies and warewolves. But I could hide, I could spot the hero in my devil haunted scenario. It was someone with a knife and a suit. Blood splattering all over the crisp white shirt as he panted from exhaustion, one by one he slit them open and their reaking flesh covered the perfectly shaped gardens.

I didn't see power in him, I saw frustration and fear. The same as I felt, I was desperate to call out to him, to tell him he wasn't by himself, but I was too scared to give away my hiding spot close to a brick wall and I was painfully aware that if I moved I'd be spotted by the creature lurking on the other side of the hedge, pining for my blood. So instead I watched him in his endless fight, hoping it would end soon. It didn't. It lasted for what felt like an eternity while he grew more and more tired, it began to appear to me that he would stop, he couldn't do this on his own, and no matter how hard I would have tried I wouldn't be able to help him more. We were all going to expire before the sun was up.

As I had come to the conclusion that I was going to die regardless I got up and started running, into the battlefield filled with people and creatures, I slipped on their bowels, their brains, tripped over their limbs and skulls. I fell and slid in the still warm mess and landed by his feet and looked him in the eyes realizing he was one of them. His cheeks were but sunk in black holes and his chest was open making his shirt stick to his organs, and he only said one thing "I'm sorry, I had to get you to come out" and then he stabbed me. I could see the blade penetrating my skin and even though it was pain in a manner I have never before experianced I laughed, a raw laughter. I felt important, all these guts and body parts, all this slaughter only to kill me.

As I felt life slipping away from me the battlefield cleared and the sun touched the treetops at last, I closed my eyes and prepared for my death (how many times I've died in dreams I can't bear to count). I felt ok, all I wanted was the madness to end. And it did. I didn't die, and when I woke up the sun was high in the sky and it was as if nothing had happened at all, just a man dressed in a suit pulling a knife out of my chest before he vanished into thin air.

And even though everything seemed ok I heard voices I had the night before, teenagers preparing for the big zombie party at the old barn tonight and I realized my dream hadn't only ended, it had just begun and I was stuck in a crappy movie like Groundhog day. So, the same scenario repeats itself, with small alternations where I try to avoid what's waiting for me, the first time I tried to save the boy from being raped. I failed. The second time I tried to make the teens not go to the party. I failed. The third time I tried to stop the bus from rushing without control. I failed. And the last time I tried to take on the creatures all on my own. I failed at that too. By then I was completely beat and apathetic, but it still wouldn't stop. So yeah, sometimes waking up is good. Waking the dead, not so good.