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Posts Tagged ‘Nightmare’

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I am not a person often troubled by Nightmares; once or twice a decade perhaps, but when they did occur they were sometimes life-changing.

When I was a child, I had recurring nightmares in which I felt like I was running through molasses trying to escape a pursuer in black brandishing a knife. In those dreams, I was usually running through a limestone cavern with grottoes off to the side all strangely separated from the main cavern by a white picket fence. For some reason, there also were always a lot of colored lights giving the walls a bright rainbow-like appearance. Of course, I would wake up before my pursuer caught up to me, except for the last time when he plunged the knife deep into my back. I still remember the sound that it made.

These dreams were later replaced by dreams about falling. I would wake up before hitting bottom, again except for the last time when I was sure I was going to hit bottom and die unless I woke myself up. So, I struggled mightily pushing through the thick fog of sleep to wakefulness and safety.

Thereafter I found that I became what is often referred to as a vivid dreamer. Someone who knows he is dreaming and to some extent can control it. In my case, I used that ability to keep away the darkness and danger; thick doors leading into the crypt became windows looking out on mountain meadows, jagged craters into the dark underworld became lakes or ponds reflecting the few billowing clouds passing overhead in an otherwise sparkling blue sky.

I grew to love my dreams. For most of my life, I preferred my sleeping life to my real one. Although in all likelihood my dreams were as brief as those who study such thing say they usually are, for me, however, they often were glorious adventures that appeared to last all night and beyond.

I thought of keeping a notebook by my bed and recording them but I never did. My analyst also encouraged me to do so. I noticed that the only time he would take notes during my sessions was when I mentioned a dream. So, I began to make up dreams (usually about my mother) in order to keep him writing and not asking questions.

Anyway, a few days ago I was lying on my back sprawled on the rock hard bed in my little apartment in Bangkok, Kesorn, the Little Masseuse, who prefers sleeping on the floor was asleep beside the bed. I thought I was still awake staring at the ceiling annoyed that I was having difficulty falling asleep when suddenly what felt like a great pressure bearing down over every part of body gripped it and squeezed it so forcefully I felt as though I was shrinking into myself. I could neither breathe nor move. I panicked and knew I had to call for help.

It was at that minute that I first suspected that I was dreaming because suddenly I noticed another bed in the room with a dark shape lying on it. Nevertheless, I still heard myself screaming for help. I called out the name of the dark shape on the other bed and was shocked. I was screaming for help from my long-dead wife, the mother of my daughter who I had not even thought of or about for over a decade.

Then I woke up, looked around and saw that the other bed had disappeared and Kesorn was still sleeping on the floor beside me.

I could not get back to sleep again that night for fear of ghosts or dying.

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