Oct 26, 1989
They say the first thing to do to lucid dream is to write down what your dreams were about. This will be the starting point of achieving that goal. I keep having these terrifying dreams where it starts off normal, but I always die at the end by this dark figure. Either I get stabbed, strangled, or fed poison, I always die. When I wake up, I am drenched in sweat and tears. I fear every night of going to bed because of those horrible dreams. So I’m going to control them and soon find out who my killer is. Then finally, finally I will be able to dream happy dreams.
Oct 27, 1989
“Come on! Let’s dance.” This lady said to me before she walked over to the lonely dance floor. I didn’t know her, never in my life have I ever seen this woman before, but she was absolutely stunning. I followed her as the music kicked in and we started dancing. The woman’s long hair swayed back and forth as she spun. She pulled me to her and we two-stepped around the bright colored room. It was so much fun, the little glances she gave me made my heart soar. She was beautiful.
Suddenly she grabbed my waist and pulled me to hers. She stood on her tippy toes and held my face to her lips. I closed my eyes, prepared to give her everything, until a sharp pain twisted my stomach. I looked down to see a knife slicing through me. Blood seeped through the white and blue dress I was wearing. The music, colors, and the woman were gone, only the dark figure remained. With utter silence, it yanked the knife back and I fell to the ground. As soon as my head hit the floor, I jerked awake.
Oct 28, 1989
I was taking a stroll through the park. The sky was bright and blue with white cotton clouds hovering over. Children were playing on the swings while their parents watched them with happy faces. A family at a table sang happy birthday to a little girl who was turning five. Her eyes sparkled at the cake yet wondered about the neatly wrapped gifts beside her. I giggled at the father who dropped his phone while trying to take pictures. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the fresh air and exhaled satisfaction. All was calm, all was perfect.
The nostalgic sound of music played as an ice cream truck rolled in. The man running it opened the side while children ran to him. He smiled the sweetest smile and handed twins the same ice cream cones. They thanked him and ran off. I stood in line with the children, watching each one of them get the same cones. Finally, I was at the front. The man held up his finger and fished out the most beautiful strawberry ice cream I had ever seen. I took it gleefully and had a lick. It was so cold and sweet and perfect for the hot day. Then, when I went to take another serving, my stomach churned. I held it in pain as the ice cream melted in my hand. I dropped to my knees and vomited everything I had. I looked back at the children, their faces were non-existent, just a blur now. When I looked back at the man, he was gone. Only the dark figure remained. My eyes rolled back and I dropped dead, jerking awake.
Oct 29, 1989
My mother was calling me. It was Christmas morning, the sun wasn’t even out yet. I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. I was little again, just a child. Maybe six or seven. She was waiting for me by the big pine tree, presents lingered below her.
“Ready to open your gifts, dear?” She asked with the widest smile on her face.
“Yes yes!” I cheered and ran to the gifts. I picked a big one with my name on it and tore off the paper. I awed at the little stuffed bear inside. I gave it a quick hug before going on to my other presents. In all, I got a toy car, a book, candy, and a new sweater.
“You’ve got one more sweetheart.” My mother said to me and pulled a long box from behind her. She handed it to me and just like the others I tore off the paper. When I opened the box, my eyes fell questioningly. It was a long rope with a neatly tied hoop at the end of it.
“Mother, what is—” my voice drifted off. My mother was no longer there, only the dark figure remained. It stared down at me, it didn’t even have a mouth but still seemed to smile at me. When I looked back at the box, the rope was gone. Instead, I found it around my neck. I gasped as I was pulled to my feet, the rope tightened around my throat. It pinched my skin, ripping a fine line into it. Blood rushed down my neck while I wheezed for air. Below was the dark figure, pulling the rope harder and harder, sending me higher and higher. I scratched the rope and tried to pull it away, the nails pulled and ripped off my fingers. With my last breath, I looked down at the dark figure. That’s when I finally realized I was dreaming. But before I could do anything else, my vision blackened and I jerked awake.
“Come on! Let’s dance.” This lady said to me before she walked over to the lonely dance floor. I blinked at the woman, I’ve seen her before. She was absolutely stunning, just like last time. I followed her as the music kicked in and we started dancing. The woman’s long hair swayed back and forth as she spun. She pulled me to her and we two-stepped around the bright colored room. It was so much fun, the little glances she gave me made my heart soar. She was beautiful.
Suddenly she grabbed my waist and pulled me to hers. She stood on her tippy toes and held my face to her lips. I closed my eyes, prepared for what was coming next. Near my stomach, I grabbed the blade of the knife that stabbed me before. When I opened my eyes again, the woman was gone and the dark figure remained. I looked down at the knife and my bleeding hand that held it from touching my body. The figure pushed harder, the pain stun more as the jagged blade cut deeper into my hand. I pushed it away and ran backwards. I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming. I told myself as the figure ran after me. I moved away before it tried to jab me. Each time I became slower to dodge the attacks. The knife sliced my arm, my thigh, and my cheek. Finally, the figure pinned me to the ground. It raised the weapon and hammered it down. I caught its arm right before it hit my chest. It stared down at me, its mouth peeking out from under the shadow of a hood. It made me angry. With a scream, I reached up with my other hand and pulled the hood back. Its familiar face left me silent and in complete horror.
It was a nurse, but not just any nurse. It was a Psych. My Psych.
“Time for your daily medicine.” She said cheerfully. The knife was no longer in her hand, instead, she held a syringe. I squirmed beneath her, screaming every possible word. Ropes tied around my body, one squeezing my neck. Other doctors filled my mouth with vomit inducing medicine until I choked. The psych then raised the needle and planted it on my heart.
Then, I jerked awake.
I held my throat and chest, gasping for air. I felt the wet sheets below me from sweating. My blankets and pillows had been pushed off and piled on the floor. I sat up and examined the dark room. Rapid beeping from a monitor ringed in my ears. A sudden knock came from the door and a lady opened it.
“Ms. Odette.” The nurse said and turned on the light. She was the lady from my dream, the dark figure. She rolled in a tray of breakfast, next to it was a syringe and two pills.
“No, no, no.” I muttered and scooted to the corner of my bed.
“Oh come on Odette, it’s not that bad.”
“No! Get away from me!”
She gave me a deadly glare and sighed, “bring her to the room.” She spoke into a mic on her coat, then grabbed my wrist.
“No! No!” I screamed as she pulled me. I tugged while other doctors pulled me into a room with a restraining table.
“Please, stop! Please!” I yelled. No one listened, they just continued to tie me down.
“Don’t forget her head.” The psychiatrist told them. One of the doctors nodded and pulled a strap over my neck. I cried painful tears, feeling like I couldn’t breathe.
“You're going to be fine.” The psych said, “just remember what Melanie says.” She then points to a poster in the room. It was a picture of the lady at the dance. The words read: “after sessions, we can party. So come on! Let’s dance.”
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