NIGHTMARE: what parents sacrifice


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I’m always aware of how much my parents do for me, and how much of their lives they give up to make their children happier and healthier. I guess this awareness manifests itself in my dreams.

My existence and purpose in this dream was hazy and confusing–what was I doing? What role did I play? All I remember is a castle full of strange people and beings, and full of food and plenty of parties. I spent my time there. A mixture of wonder and delight and fear, the castle was a medley of emotions and colors and sounds and shifting dream-scenes. I DO remember that a demon was following me, one that I couldn’t see, but I always knew was there.

I knew that time was dwindling and that I’d eventually be taken by the demon, but I lowkey just ignored it and went about my life.

Here’s where things get creepy. I returned to my family’s little cottage in the woods, and my dad told me to burn everything that had my name on it. All letters, drawings, everything. He said he had spoken to a witch in the woods and there was only one way to save me from the demon. After I burned everything with my name on it, I had to stay within the house for 6 weeks.

Every day, my dad cut off all his limbs and put them outside the door. The demon would take them and they would regrow back, every day. This went on for 6 weeks. I was stuck, unable to leave or go back to the castle, and my dad had to sever his own arms and legs everyday. I had burned all traces of myself, my dad was in constant anguish, and I wasn’t allowed to leave for weeks on end–it was basically Hell, but at least my soul wasn’t going to be taken by the demon.

I never got to see if we banished the demon or not–because I woke up in the middle of the night all freaked out. I wish this was a dream I didn’t remember.



Umbra on burning paper

NIGHTMARE: baba’s ghosts

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I had never been more sad that the school day had ended. As the chatter of my classmates filled the hallways of my school, I walked back to my house with a heart full of dread and feet made of lead. For some reason, echoes in my head had been telling me all day what waited for me at home. My dad was coming back from the dead.

I walked into my dark house, filled to the brim with overgrown houseplants and strangely colored lights that reflected off the large bay windows. My mom was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, dark violet smoke pouring out of an alcove in the wall. Glowing glass vials filled that alcove, which is where the ghosts of my dad were kept. Peering into the kitchen, it resembled my old kitchen from when I lived in Bahrain–younger versions of my sister and brother were sitting at the kitchen table. This house was a strange medley of old memories and random details I’d never seen before.

Mama led me up the stairs and into a room with dozens of paintings strewn around–some on the wall, some on the floor, some covered with sheets, and others propped up on easels. All of them had my dad painted on them, but all were different. One of the paintings had a version of my dad with just one large eye on his face, and two grotesque eyes on his stomach. Yet another art piece had Baba with long, thin, jagged teeth protruding from his bloody mouth. The others I can’t remember. There were 4, specifically, but I guess the other two ghosts were lost in the depths of my subconsciousness.  

I don’t recall how or when, but I eventually went to sleep in a little cabin outside my house. When I woke up (within my dream), all looked normal but my emotions went off. Fear is a warning sign in my dreams; even if I’m in a serene situation, fear indicates that my dream is about to change.

I was then inside my house, looking for my sister. She wasn’t in her room, and my brother wasn’t in his. My mother was also gone. Their bedrooms were dark, and the silence of the house contributed to my fear.

In my dreams, there are underlying scripts or themes within my mind that tell me what’s going on, even if it isn’t clear in the scenery and visuals. I just knew that my family had left me behind on purpose, and had left me behind for the ghosts to find. As I tried to run upstairs to the room full of paintings, I turned around and the ghost of my dad with eyes on its stomach was there, slowly trailing me. I kept running through the endless house, up and down stairs to evade the ghosts that kept appearing from nowhere–all slightly different in a grotesque way. And the dream didn’t end.

I kept running until I was jolted awake by my alarm, and I had to shake off my fear and go to zero-period gym and play pickleball.


naruto attacked me (in my dream)

Dream Date: September 27th, 2018.

My plane had finally touched down. The tiny airplane held just me and my friends, and was now sitting in the middle of Egypt. The ruins rose in the sands around us, though it was nevertheless populated with smiling, friendly natives.

As I stood up to depart, my entire seat broke into dozens of pieces before my eyes. I yelled at my friends to wait for me as I clean up the mess, but they ignore me and leave anyways. Feels bad.

The flight attendant, who appeared out of nowhere, yelled at me for breaking her seat.

“Go pick up the pieces and throw them off the stone bridge outside! You can’t have your phone or your belongings until you get rid of the broken seat.”

Aight, I thought. Seeing as I had no choice but to follow her commands, and because I felt bad for wrecking her plane, I carried the heavy metal pieces out of the plane and into the glaring sun. The bridge was right next to the plane, so I headed that way, admiring the intricate ruins all around me. Then, as I glanced down, I noticed the shadow of someone following me. That shadow multiplied, and when I whirled around I was greeted by the sight of a dozen Narutos poised to attack me. They literally were just holding sticks, and the dream itself looked really stupid, but I was terrified and jumped off the bridge in my panic. I landed in the river below, scrambling away from the ninjas trying to beat me with sticks.

Even though I screamed for help, everyone ignored me (feels bad), which forced me to sprint towards a lone grove of evergreen trees. Within the sheltered forest, an entirely glass train station awaited me at the end of yet another bridge. Hurtling myself over the bridge and into the glass train station, I looked behind me and noticed that the gaggle of Narutos hellbent on beating me up could not enter, for whatever reason. I was safe for now, but was still terrified, because the glass train and train station were entirely empty except for one smiling old man. Without a word, he let me on the train, and I rode in silence to my destination.

Getting off the glassy train, I looked around at the airport like interior of the train station. Since I was still scared, and I wanted to be home, my dream kinda just shifted itself to the scene of my house. Still in shock from my misadventure, I told my family what happened.

They all laughed at me, shaking their heads. “That doesn’t make any sense!” they exclaimed. “You never left.”

My dad looked at me and said, “You were probably dreaming. You’re confused.”

At this point I started to wake up, and I was realizing that I was dreaming about my family talking about my dream. Dreamception. My confusion startled me awake, and looking at my phone, I realized it was 3am.