I move along, through a place…space. I stop and can feel someone /something watching…moving with…miminking, me. I turn and theres noone there. I keep doing what i was doing…washing my hands…folding…picking something up…and it moves with me. Just short of me. Like a stutter or movie thats not quite in time with the talking. I turn again and there’s no one there but i can feel them/it breathing. Breathing on me, on my face; and i can feel it moving. I start to cry and i can hear a snigger. Not loud, low. I stop crying. It stops sniggering. I move, it moves. Im scared. Pressure tightens on my neck. It sniggers. I cant breath.
I wake up.
I think i was about 6-7 when these started.
dreams are just plain old bitches mate.
These always start with something different, as in, I’m at the shop, or doing the washing, or talking to a friend…and they end up here…I’d be running away, trying to find a place to hide. I’d end up on stairs that seemed to go on forever and I feel like I can’t get to the top, or I’m going to fall off. I eventually get to the top and come out on a sky scraper type building. I hit the ground and the building starts swinging sideways and like a tree, it starts bending.
I always wake up when they swing to far and I am about to fall off.
I wake disorientated, sweating and usually gasping for breath. These take quite awhile to physically recover from. When I stand up, I still feel like I’m swaying.
did i mention dreams are assholes? i did?
I can feel myself breathing and tensing. Tight. Rage. In my gutt, my head, my chest. In my limbs, shoulders, through my neck to my teeth. A searing sort of pain, dark, with shadows.
I look for something, to touch me. Kindly.
They would walk past…mother, boyfriend, husband…whoever i was close too. They don’t see me. I talk. They don’t hear. I get louder. They don’t hear, or react.
I scream in their face – im here, look, im here!
They smirk, turn but don’t acknowledge. They take their fist and jam something up into my uterus.
Then pull my insides out. Smirk at me. Walk away.
I’d wake sweating and shaking and with the smell of blood in my nostrils. The first time I remember this dream, i was about 6 i think, we lived in the big house.
dreams can be assholes. JS.