I dreamt that I pierced my hand all the way through and had shards of glass stuck in my throat. The pain is something that I cannot describe in words- because I’ve never felt anything like it. My dreams leave me with the impression that I have a high tolerance of pain. I’ve never broken a bone or gotten seriously injured so I have yet to find out whether or not this is true. My confidence is unfounded. 

Dreams of being trapped and pursued absolutely terrify me. And I’ve had so many of these kinds of nightmares.

Construction workers knock on my door, calling out for my sister, the ‘little girl’. I recognize a particular man through the gate from some street we’ve once passed. It’s a memory from a dream within a dream. We lock the doors and run into my parents’ room where there is a random secret door covered by a chair backed into a corner with a coat hanging off of it. We have to crawl through the chair legs in order to reach the small cramped space and wait. We know not to breathe. Not yet.

People are looking for me and I hear them as they crash through my house. Adrenaline courses through me as I make an impulsive decision to open the window in my room and step out. I feel my way down the pipes. I don’t quite remember but I think I managed to escape.

But by far the worst nightmare (it gives me an uncomfortable feeling just thinking about it) is the recurring dream of the figure up the stairs. The wooden door is open and the only thing separating myself from the stairs that lead to my house is a metal gate, which is slightly ajar. The green tiles of the stairs are dimly illuminated by white lights and a figure makes its way towards me. The nightmare is a prolonged moment. It’s the perpetual moment of utter fear. I know Its coming and I need to get to the door. I need to shut the gate before It reaches me. I never see Its face and I’m always just about to pull the gate. I feel like the gate is never going to shut and It’s close. It’s so close. And I never know what happens after.

I once was able to stop the dream because I recognized the fact that I’d lived through the dream before. My friend in my dream nodded with understanding: “oh, so this is the part where you have to close the door”, because I’d once told her about it (in real life). I shouted “this is a dream”, prayed and woke up. So strange how memories of reality and of the imaginary world fuse together. So strange how we can distinguish between them. I wonder what my subconscious is trying to tell me over and over again.


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