The Nightmare

Submitted by Clare on Tue, 04/26/2011 - 22:13

(Note: This is a rough draft. I really had this dream, and it's kind of violent and scary, just so you know.)

 

4/25/11 The Nightmare   “Come back now to your sober senses; recall your true self; awake from slumber, and recognize that they were only dreams that troubled you; and as you looked on them, so look now on what meets your waking eyes.” —Marcus Aurelius     I was crying when I was falling asleep. Maybe that’s what started it all. But the tears dried up before I really got to sleep, and I didn’t think about it. I was tired. Sleep came.   I’m not myself. You almost never are in dreams. There’s a war going on in some world in my dream. I’m an ambassador for one side. It happened very fast. Something happened. I can’t remember what. In the dream, I understood. Now, not at all. Anyway…I had to meet with the ambassador for the other side. We’re both women. We’re friends. When I’m going, I know we’re friends. I love her. We’re going to kill each other. There’s a knife hidden in my dress, and a knife hidden in hers. Sick, twisted, somehow this will make everything better. This will end the war. I knew in the dream. Now, all I know is that we would meet, talk, embrace each other…and stab each other in the back, literally. It didn’t seem so strange or horrible in the dream. I entered the kitchen…our kitchen. How strange. Not in the dream, of course. She’s there. She’s nervous. She’s fiddling with some small serrated knives on the window sill…like she’s trying to pick which one to stab me with. As soon as I enter the kitchen, it’s different. She doesn’t know the plan. We’re friends…aren’t we? I have a knife behind my back, but I don’t think it’ll work. I’m thinking about what I’ll do. The plan is off. I’m going to try and kill her first. This will end the war. One of us has to die. It won’t be me. It happened like lightning…in the dream. We’re standing at the sink…the sink where I wash dishes and get a drink and look out the window every single day. Everything seems so normal. The kitchen is a mess, and the sink is full of dirty dishes. But I’m a huge, voluminous pink dress about to kill someone. She’s opening her mouth to say something. She’s picked a knife…or has she? I can’t remember. In a flash, I grab a knife from the blue bucket that always sits on the counter, and I stab her. When I grabbed the knife, I was still the person in the dream who knew what she needed to do. As soon as the knife touched her, I was myself. I know which knife it was. I’ve used that knife before to cut carrots! It’s not sharp. Not sharp enough to stab someone…what a horrific thought to cross my mind. That was the most horrible part. I had to push that knife into her. And I looked at her face. She screamed…a real, sharp, horrified scream. Maybe she did know the plan. But this wasn’t it. I think I ripped the knife back. I remember the blood. I remember it being very, very, horribly real. And I ran. Because I’m a coward. I ran. Out the kitchen door…it should have been the hall, but it wasn’t. I killed her. I had to get away before the people…people who loved her, came. They’d heard her scream. I killed her. I killed her. Horror woke me up. The clock read 6:51. I was lying in my bed, not cold or uncomfortable, and drowsy. My drowsiness numbed horror and disgust at the dream. This scared me even more…that I wasn’t horrified. So I worked myself into horror. I’m really good at that. Soon, I was shaking and terrified. The dream had been so real, and so horrific. I was myself when I was forcing that knife into her. That horrible part…that worst part. Knowing, recognizing that knife from the kitchen. It was so vivid. So real. I killed her. We were friends…weren’t we? I couldn’t even remember what she looked like. She was beautiful. She was kind. I killed her. Horror could have swallowed me whole. I was drowning in fear. I didn’t know what to do. I flung out my heart and grabbed at God, my heart and my mind fighting, as my mind replayed the horror over and over, and my heart begged God to be near. I prayed. I begged and prayed and replayed that dream. The next thing I knew, I was praying the last half of a Hail Mary. The horror was still there. Mary! I cried, desperately reaching for my Heavenly Mother, as I was all alone. Mother Mary, help me! Help me! Save me! Mary’s voice, echoing in my heart, slowly pushed its way through my racing, frightened thoughts. It’s alright. I’m here. It was just a dream. It’s alright. Be at peace. But Mary…I killed her! I killed her! Shh…sh…no. You didn’t. It was a dream. You are ok. It’s alright. Be at peace. Be at peace. Reality broke through my fears. A dream. Just a dream. A nightmare. But…she was right. I was ok. I didn’t kill her. My mind had played a horrific trick on my heart, but I was ok. I lay back and I prayed. I just prayed my morning prayers, letting the memory of the knife…the scream…the blood…and me, a coward, running away…I let all those memories leave me. I dozed back to sleep. I had awoken from my nightmare, and I would be alright. I still remember. I still can feel and touch and taste that awful dream. It was so vivid, and so horrifically real. Some dreams aren’t frightening at all, once we see them through waking eyes. Not this dream. Not this nightmare. Awake, I didn’t need to be afraid, because it wasn’t real. Awake, my Mother Mary took me in her arms. I’m not afraid of this dream anymore. But I remember.
Author's age when written
16
Genre
Essay

Comments

Laura Elizabeth

Sat, 04/30/2011 - 15:11

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Wow! What a horrible dream! Ugh :)

I've had dreams so horrid that I never tell them to anyone. I hate thinking about those dreams. Then there are some dreams that are horribly scary, but when I wake up they're almost funny, and it's fun to tell them to people, like a scary adventure that I've lived through.

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The best stories are those that are focused, unassuming, and self-confident enough to trust the reader to figure things out. --

http://lauraeandrews.blogspot.com/2014/05/dont-tell-me-hes-smart.html

Clare

Sun, 05/01/2011 - 21:08

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Yep, I REALLY had this dream. It was so freaky. But it has sort of a happy ending. I'm not even freaked out by it anymore and used that knife to cut myself some watermelon the other day. It was just so real, I needed to write it down.

Madeline

Fri, 05/06/2011 - 03:05

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ACK!!! You dreamed that? How awful! I've woken up from normal dreams and been afraid, and this one would have about killed me. LOL! Keep it up--er--I mean, with the writing! Certainly don't go on dreaming like that anymore! ;))