A Constant Nightmare.

I’m going to tell you about a dream/nightmare I’ve been having for a long time.
I’m going to abbreviate it slightly because this post will be long enough as it is.

I first had this dream on June 20th last year and since then,
I’ve had the exact!
Same dream many times with slight variations.

For reasons best known to me June 20th is one of those dates where things happen.

On June 20th 2009 I dreamed this:

I’m moving into a new flat (Which I did in real life that day) and just as I’m about to open the front door,
A gang of faceless people crowd me.

A Voice: ‘You moving in?’

Me: ‘Right now’.

Them: “How much you payin’?’

Me: “None of your fucking business”.

Them: ‘See, You owe us’.

Me: ‘I owe you?’

‘I don’t think so’.

…‘But, good luck with trying to get that from me you fucking failures’.

There’s about six of them and they advance on me as I laugh at them.
I turn and tell them:
‘You’re all about as intimidating as my Gran now and she’s been dead since I was 2’.
I shut the door in their faces and live my life.

The dream ends there and I wake up feeling cocky and pleased with myself.

I dreamed the exact same dream for a few weeks more.
Every detail was in place.

* Things turned bad and progressed recently.

Same dream as before except this time,
When I slam the door,
I’m on edge and paranoid about these people/things.
I now have the feeling that they are Things.

They are outside the building downstairs and this time,
The faceless shapes are a little more defined.
Shadows of facial features etc…

Over a period of around 2 months,
I dreamed this dream and it never really changed.

* Last night I dreamed it again and more things happened.

Like before,
I’ve slammed the door and I’m living my life in this flat but,
I’m no longer cocky and definitely not pleased.

Matter of fact,
I’m isolated,
Alone,
Paranoid and afraid.

My door gets knocked.
I freeze.
I know it’s Them.
Those Things.

I tip toe to the door and through the spy hole,
I see a woman.
A woman in her mid 20’s.
She’s clawing at her face and sniggering to herself.

I hear my voice quiver as I say:
‘What the ..fuck do you want?”

Her: ‘You were warned.
Now we’re gonna take what we want.
(She sniggered again and her front tooth fell out)
But that’s not important anymore.
We’re going to take it all.
Let us in’.

Me: ‘Listen you fucking dentistless bitch!
(‘Dentistless Bitch’. No way could I come up with that one had I not been dreaming)
You’re getting fucking nothing from me.
Now FUCK OFF!!!’

I’m thinking about hiding as my door gets kicked in and I feel completely afraid and threatened.
I go to find a knife or…something…but my hands are shaking too badly and I can’t pick anything up.

I decide to sit down and face the horrible music.

I sit down on a sofa and watch as this fucking woman saunters in to my front room.
I feel disgusted that this bitch is even within distance of me.
She gets close and laughs in my face and starts to pull her hair out.
Clump by clump.

I’m sitting on the couch paralysed.
I don’t know what to expect when I turn my head to the front door.

Men come in.
(Them).
Men with deep half-clotted scars on their faces invite themselves in.
New death white faces contorted with sneers and hate.
Hate for me.
There’s maybe six of them and the one at the front is laughing very quietly.
Its neck creaks as it turns to me and speaks.

This’.
Is’.
It’.

‘You’re fucking finished Alan Cook’.
‘It’s curtains for you and we’re about to part you’.

I can’t move.
I feel utterly  paralysed sitting on that couch.
His voice is accent-less.

This ‘guy/thing’ kneels in front of me and very casually,
He pulls a long knife and slips it into my upper leg.
It’s silent and doesn’t bleed.

He does the same to my other leg and the wound screams.
I’m in horrible pain now.

I feel my mouth opening but no sound comes.

The others in the gang take turns to knife me in specific parts of my body.
That’s when I notice the hair on my arms turn white.

Utter fear gets a choke hold on me.

Then!
I wake up.

I had that exact dream around a dozen times then I stopped having it.
It just stopped.

Until last night.
* I dreamed it again.

Everything was the same except things progressed a little.

Last night (In the dream),
I was getting knifed and cut but thsi time!
I decided to make a fucking run for it.

I got out the front door and ran down a staircase.
I was aware of getting weaker and my shoes were filling with sticky blood.
The staircase smelled of copper…
Typical dream style,
The staircase was never ending.

The things were gaining on me easily.
I felt the life draining out of me.
But eventually!
I got to the bottom where there was a door.
A big.
Red.
Door.
I turned the handle on the door…

And fucking woke up.

Nothing has happened since.

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6 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. At least Beetlejuice wasn’t taking a piss on the door…

  2. Heh heh.

    True enough Stuart.

    That was last year.
    https://alancook.wordpress.com/2009/11/01/fucking-beetlejuice/

  3. […] Alan Cook's Weblog "Alright, I believe ya. -But my Tommy Gun Don't!" « A Constant Nightmare. […]

  4. you have a morbid fear of living on your own….. or maybe yir just nuts…x

  5. Both possibilities I suppose.

  6. Good grief boy, what is going on with your head?? Can you think of anything that connects stuff happening in your life with the times you have the dreams? I mean do you tend to get them if you’re working lots, or have had a few drinks or you’re stressed?

    I go through phases of really unpleasant dreams but don’t remember them very often (just wake up in a bit of a state) and I don’t think I’ve ever had recurring dreams.

    I hope you don’t get any more like that anyway, toots. xx


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