Do you think it’s weird to go a hypnotist? I used to. But, when you’re experiencing dreams, well, nightmares, really. Worse than I’ve ever had. And, they’re all in parts. For weeks. After something like that, you reevaluate weird. I know, it sounds like a stupid problem. But every Sunday, it starts all over again. I just want to know how it ends.
Every Sunday, when I got to bed, I have an 8 hour long nightmare where I’m running around in the woods. I know, sounds cliche, but mine’s weird. For one, I’m still aware in it. I feel everything. Fatigue, the passage of time, everything. Just like I’m running.
Another oddity is that it’s exactly eight hours. To the second. I fall asleep within seconds of getting into bed, and wake up precisely eight hours later. And, like I said, it’s in parts. On Mondays, I can hear it growling. Tuesdays, I can hear it’s claws scratching the bare dirt. Wednesday, I hear it breaking branches. Thursdays, I feel it’s breath on my hair, and the back of my neck. Friday, it starts howling. And on Saturdays, I can feel it’s claws reaching for me, tripping me up, knocking me over, skinning and bloodying my palms on the rocks, trying to get my way up before it can pounce on me.
So, sue me, I went to the hypnotist. 3 weeks, of 8 hour long nightmares, where I’m the star without a script. I booked an appointment, on the morning of what would’ve been the 4th Sunday. Blah, blah, blah, niceties, and introductions. Excuse me if I forgo the introductions. I’m dead. You don’t need my hypnotists name. The end. Next part.
So, he brings me over to my death bed. Or a chaise lounge. Semantics. And, get this, he actually used a pocket watch to put me under. A. Pocket. Watch. I thought I was the cliche in this scenario. But, on
with my story. He put me under, and then he started leading me into the nightmare. His voice kind of shadowing over me. This was a bit different, though.
It started out the same way it always does. Me running through a forest. But this was much different. It was more real. Scarier. All five senses were working in overdrive. After a minute or so of this
dream, it changed. Instead of just being the Sunday dream where I’m only running, it became all seven dreams.
That must’ve been when I started twitching, because the hypnotist kept trying to wake me up. The harder he tried, the more I fell under. It was most definitely not working. I was falling farther under, and losing almost all sense of what was going on around me physically.
It was getting even closer. This was different. The dream was going faster, and so was this... Thing. It had all the time in the world, it was getting even closer. I’m dead, I’ll repeat myself all I want, when
recounting my death.
In case you haven’t guessed, it killed me. Ate me alive. Devoured my flesh, and sucked the marrow from my bones. Every bone. I was conscious throughout. Not fun, trust me. Wouldn’t ever want to
experience it again. The coroner said it was a heart attack, officially. I watched him sign it off on my death certificate.
So, remember this, the next time you’ve got nightmares, or your kid does. And all you say is “It’s just a dream”. Well, that wasn’t just a dream. I didn’t just have a bad dream. I died. What do you want, a
heartwarming message? A happy ending? Some reason to have read this? Well, here it is. It’s never just a nightmare. There will always be some reason behind it. Want something happier? Try someone alive.
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