Nightmare Movies In My Brain

I'm not going back to sleep. Not now, not ever, not tonight. If I have to drink a hundred thousand mochachinos, there is absolutely no way in Hecla, my head is touching another pillow and falling for that old trick again.

I woke up in a panic, my body contorted into the many shapes of a pretzel, with pillows strewn across the room from here to there. I sat straight up, eyes blinking against the darkness, fumbling for the light beside the bed, breathing a sigh of relief once it was on.

For a moment, I thought I could push the dream from my mind and go back to bed, easing myself back - light still on - against the pillows, dragging my blankets back up to meet my face. I closed my eyes, and was almost falling back into sleep when I heard an ear splitting crash, like the sound of someone taking a crow bar to the back door, the sound of splitting wood.

I jumped up. Alert. And made up my mind in an instant not to grab the baseball bat I have hidden behind my bed. It was after all probably nothing but my overactive imagination and the ripples of a bad dream still lingering on my mind.

But I came downstairs, hugging the railing as I tread softly on the carpet, quickly hitting on the living room light and accessing - as I had expected - that the house was indeed secure, save for my own paranoia.

Still I can't go back to bed. If I go back to bed, the dream will only continue, playing itself out until it's finished and I'm not willing to watch it through the end. The clarity of what I remember is enough to make me stay up and blog all night. Or perhaps do that cleaning I should have done earlier.

Still I have found that one thing always helps to rid myself of a bad dream. Writing it down and wrestling with the demons always seems to work for getting them out of my head. So without further adieu, welcome to my subconscious.

*Reader beware: Not all scenes are intended for younger viewers. If you have a history of inheriting nightmares, please for your own protection discontinue reading immediately. *

Brenda and I were driving. Large buildings flanked the sides of the highway as spider veins of traffic scattered off in all directions. We were traveling West. Everyone seemed to be doing circles around us as we crept along at a snails pace, talking and laughing as I drove. But whirring lights behind us interrupted the whole scene, forcing us to pull over to the side of the road.

A young officer pulled up. "Do you know how fast you were going Miss?"

"36," I told him.

"That's a bit fast for these parts don't you think?" he questioned.

I bit my lip, nervous. "I suppose it might be Officer, but I didn't mean to be speeding."

The young officer smiled, pointing to his partner who was walking around our car, notepad pulled out, his pen making quick flicks across the paper.

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't give you a ticket. Just a warning. But you've got to deal with Sam."

Sam walked over to the window, an older man, gray around the temples, his face stern and showing no sign of empathy.

"I'm going to let you go with just a warning. People in these here parts don't like people who drive like their fresh off the NY Stock Exchange. It might do you well to remember that a lead foot won't land you anywhere except a prison yard with a high fence and a serious lack of scenery. Perhaps it wouldn't be remiss if you girls turned in for the night and got some rest before continuing your little road trip. If I had to offer my opinion, I'd say you're both looking a little tired and weary from the road."

And so we did. We took his advice, followed the highway West again to the nearest hotel and booked two rooms both on the second floor. Exhuasted we opened our doors, giving each other a quick backwards glance.

"See you at checkout," I said.

"See you at checkout," Brenda replied.

The next morning, I wasn't anywhere near to being packed but didn't want to admit that to Brenda who would hold that against me for being late. So instead, I bribed the front office girl to pack my belongings and bring them down to the car for me, while I enjoyed a nice mug of cocoa and a warm continental bagel in the perky downstairs morning room.

Suddenly, breaking the stillness of the morning, came the sounds of rapid gunfire. Spilling my cocoa on the table in front of me, I pushed back against the wall, shrinking behind the giant sized potted plant in the corner as a group of military looking men swarmed from the elevators, spilling out into the lobby before making a mass exitus.

I rushed upstairs, eager to find Brenda. But she was nowhere to be found. My room however was ajar. Slowly pushing the door open, I was greeted with a grizzly sight. The poor clerk whom I had asked to pack my luggage, crumpled over in a bloody mess on the bedroom floor. I whimpered in panic, turning to run.

Outside the parking lot was still swarming with men in forest green camo. I tried walking to my car as if it were any other normal day, an even pace and my head held high, my keys closed in my crushing grasp.

The murmurs began to grow behind me, raising my uneasyness. My car too far away, I quickly opted to borrow a slightly newer model SUV, keys dangling from the ignition like a welcome screen.

By this time, the men around me knew I was trouble, their snarling faces pressed up against the windows, as I held the locking mechanism down and fired up the engine, pealing out in a cloud of dust.

The SUV and I put petal to the metal and tore out of there like there was no tomorrow, climbing up a steep hill, towards an old run down farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, just one small crabapple tree in the side yard.

We'll be safe here I thought to myself, pulling out my son and daughter from the vehicle, holding onto their small hands as we approached the rickety old house.

Inside it was dimly lit, little shards of light seeming spectral as they hit the dust floating in midair. We maneuvered around the room carefully, picking our way throug the debris that covered the floors. Upstairs a voice whispered in my head, as I reached out to find a bannister pressed firmly beneath my palm. Gently urging them on, I ushered the children quickly upstairs.

It was like one giant room. Little nooks and crannies here and there, but for the most part one giant room with a walk-in closet.

"Stay here," I said to my son and daughter, pointing to a worn red couch pressed against the wall. I walked the room, familiarizing myself with its dimensions, coming back only when I was sure I had memorized them in every detail.

"Where's your sister?" I whispered, noticing one empty spot on the couch where I had left them.

"She's in there," pointed my son, towards a door I hadn't seen before.

"You stay here," I said to him sternly, planting a kiss on his forehead. "I'm going to get your sister. I'll be right back."

But when I opened the door, there was nothing underneath my feet other than a free fall down into nothing.

I fell and fell and fell until without any warning I made a splash. And then I was sinking. Down, down, and down, until I was at the very bottom of whatever deep dark place had felled me.

Terrified and cold, it took me more than a few minutes to realize I was breathing underwater and having absolutely no problem doing so. Amazed and yet still very scared, I began swimming in the darkness, my hands reaching blindly for any shape that might resemble my daughter.

But it was the voices I heard that gave me hope. Following their sounds, I was overjoyed to find my daughter laughing in joy with her clammy companions. A weird species, kind of like a cross between a clam, a cow and a walrus. But they were nice, and had protected my child from harm thereby earning my trust.

"Be careful," they warned me. "He'll know you're here."

"Who is he and why will he know?" I wanted to ask, but there was no time. Pocket light from above was penetrating the darkness and I knew it must be my son with a flashlight calling me back up into the unknown.

Long story short because my brain is beginning to crash and this dream needs to be concluded is this ... Upstairs was waiting an evil scientist who was trying to capture my son because he could speak believable Spanish and painted like Picasso, so that he could use his paiting talents to take over the world.

My husband, who was one of the men in the hotel lobby shooting down the innocent, tried to make me believe that he was on my side, all the while planning on double crossing me with the evil mad scientist.

But thanks to my Protector - a man I met on the swim back up - and his ability to astral project all of us were saved from the cluches if evil. And of course, had I finished the dream probably would have lived happily ever after ...

So there you have it. It's all there and pretty scary, but not as scary as it was when I first woke up ...

So maybe it's okay to try and go back to sleep now.