Nightmares and Bad Dreams
Last night I suffered through a plague of bad dreams. Seriously, it was just one bad dream after another. I miserably woke up in a bad mood. I hate that!
My dreams, realistically disturbing as they were, took more of a surreal approach. Filled with demons, goblins, alternate dimensions, running and searching for the unknown, I felt like I was partaking in an episode of Buffy meets the Twilight Zone. Which is weird, because I haven’t watched an episode of Buffy in about a month, at least, and I’ve only watched a tiny fraction of the Twilight Zone when I was, like, 8. Nevertheless, here I was plunged into so many demonic variables, that my brain could not settle down because the me in my dream was constantly running.
And, that’s the thing I hate most. When I dream, I know I’m dreaming – that it’s not real. But, I can’t pull myself out of it. The vivid reality of the dreams traps me into this dreamland possession, kidnapping my mind. I can’t wake up by myself.
But, I did get to thinking. As bad as the dreams were, they weren’t nightmares – at least not to me.
See, everything that happened in these dreams last night was physical. It was a physical terror that plagued me. It made me slightly afraid, and uncomfortable, and worried. But, it was just a BAD dream.
No, my nightmares take on a whole new realm of fear. My nightmares terrify me with psychology. Let me explain. I rarely ever have nightmares. But when they come, I wake up shaking. Not just in a bad mood, I’m terrified, nauseous, and panicking. Basically, my nightmares target my biggest issue – Trust.
My nightmares may follow different paths to get there, but they all focus on the same theme. They start out solely as a BAD dream. Something bad happens. Either myself or my family or friends are getting attacked. Panic and fear occur. Darkness creeps up. We are separated. But I see something. Some vital clue that would solve everything (of course my ego has no place in my dreams). I race, trying to find somebody to share this life-saving piece of information with. But… Here’s one of my most recent nightmares.
My family comes to visit on campus at Liberty. It’s graduation time. I’m so excited to show them the place I’ve made my home for the past three years. It’s the place where I’ve learned to learn, love, laugh, be a friend. I meet them on that first day. And everything is good. We’re all happy. I show them around South campus, DeMoss, North campus. I introduce them to my friends. Everything is good.
But then night comes. We’re all sleeping in a dormitory, my bed is in the room next to theirs. I hear shots from down the hall. I don’t know what’s happening, but I climb under my bed, letting the bedding hang over the side, hiding me from view. Then I peek out from under the bedding, and I see two girls running past. I’m shocked. I know them. I had just introduced them to my parents. They were my friends. Sisters. (For privacy I won’t reveal their names, because I know in life they are really not homicidal killers, and I would hate to give them that reputation).
Anyways, they run to my room and look in. They see nothing and move on. I run into my parents room, and to my astonishment they are asleep. I try to wake them up, and just as I do, the sisters run into my family’s room sans guns. Acting all concerned and what not, they fill in my dazed and sleep-deprived family on the recent shooting events, excluding themselves as the killers of course. They ask my parents about their well-being and make a big to-do about making sure they feel safe. They offer to take my parents to their dormitory.
I don’t know why I didn’t make anything of this at that point in my dream. Why were they busying themselves about my family? At that point in time though, all I knew was that I was too scared to say anything in front of them.
That’s when the BAD dream turns into a nightmare. I couldn’t tell my parents that these two, seemingly innocent and thoughtful girls had just slaughtered a dormitory full of people a few minutes ago, with these two maniacs standing in front of us. I couldn’t even explain why they didn’t kill my family or myself in the shooting. I just knew that I couldn’t let my family go with them. I pulled out excuse after excuse, trying to get my parents to listen to me, and understand that we could not go with the Sisters. But I was ignored.
That’s the beginning.
They went with them. And I felt my heart begin to crumble right there. I spent the rest of the night wandering the streets, wondering what I could do to keep my family safe. The next morning I went to find them. I had to tell them. I had to make them see.
The Sisters had gone all out. They were charming and persuasive. They took good care of my parents. When I found them the next morning, my parents …they were not MY parents. I talked to my mom when I found a second. I told her what I had seen. She did not believe me. She left me and walked away. I tried to tell my dad. Again and again and again I did everything I could to make them listen, understand. To believe me. I was desperate and hurting. These were MY parents, who promised to love me and keep me safe. How could they believe these strangers over ME? How could I become some second-rate daughter that they would ignore and swat away. How could they turn from me when all I wanted was to save them, protect them.
I felt miserable, dejected, isolated from everything I had once loved and believed in. Nothing I tried would help. And I kept seeing the smiles on the Sisters’ faces. I was nauseous and high-strung. I was helpless to get my own parents to believe in me when I had done nothing wrong. They made my parents turn from me. I was alone. I had trusted and believed in them, and they let me down. I was alone.
I walked away. Alone. I had no other choice.
That is my nightmare. And as bad as last night’s dreams were, they couldn’t touch the heart-wrenching agony I go through in my nightmares.
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