Nightmare Night

Last night was my Nightmare Night.

For people who know me, what I'm doing is obvious. For people who don't, here's my explaination. My Nightmare Nights are nights where I don't sleep. Sometimes I don't do much besides wedge myself into the corner at the head of my bed and glare around my room suspiciously. By the title I give them, it should be obvious that my Nightmare Nights feature nightmares. This is true...in a way. They feature bits and peices from every nightmare I have ever had. Sometimes they don't even wait for me to fall asleep (most people know these as hallucinations, but to me they're my waking nightmares).

Last night was my Nightmare Night.

Meaning that I got to sit up all night, staving off images that I'd really like to forget.

Flames. Death. Fangs.
Mary is in the bloody chair.

Watching the same movies over and over and over and Over AND OVER....trying to stay awake and keep them all out of my head.

Last night was my Nightmare Night.

Mary is in the bloody chair. Refers to an old, old nightmare of mine. An old, recurring nightmare that gets center stage at least once a year, usually more. I might type up a description later, but this right now is mostly for me. Going over my Nightmare Nights helps me get rid of lingering paranoia. It also gives me an outlet for every crazy idea that pops into my head immediately following.

I hate my Nightmare Nights. That probably sounds really stupid, who LIKES nightmares, but I have to say it. Last night was the worst one I've ever had. Ever. It probably wouldn't have seemed that way to anyone who knows me and might have seen it, but it was, even if I wasn't screaming hysterically, alternately laughing and crying, or clinging desperately to anything that had a pulse. Mostly because I wouldn't even close my eyes and I'd have images pop out of the clear blue nothing. Meaning I got to sit up all night, unable to sleep for fear of what my own mind would produce for my viewing pleasure, and unable to move around the house as is usual for me when I can't sleep, again for fear of what my own mind would conjure up for me.

Last night was my Nightmare Night.

It makes no sense that it happened last night of all nights, I'd just spent the day with my boyfriend, and those are usually the nights where I don't dream at all. But all my nightmares decided to gang up on me last night, and shatter any delusion that I might be able to function normally today.

Pipe dream.

I hate my Nightmare Nights. I can't even sit up at the computer and attempt to write or read or chat because I end up constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for something, anything, to sneak up on me and shove me into one of the worst dreams I've had.

Flames.

I don't know how many of my nightmares have featured flames, but it's at least a good two-thirds. Less than a fourth of them have had fire-induced deaths. More than half of them end up with someone dead anyway. Only one of them was ever in black and white. I dream in bright, vivid, terrifying color. At this point, I'd like to submit that the color wheel is evil. Or at least my subconcious seems to believe so. Three of my fire-dreams have featured spontaneous combustion. In one of those, the combustible was a dog. My dog. The other two were people I hadn't met...yet. It scares me when I see these people in real life. Yes, they do exist.

Last night was my Nightmare Night.

At least all my psychic dreams are non-threatening and mundane. I have dreamt of the future. They have come true. I can usually tell which ones are 'premonitions' if you want to call them that. I just call them freaking irritating.

They're never violent or dramatic. Just normal, everyday stuff. Once, I knew exactly what I was getting for Christmas. Another time, I predicted a pop quiz. Nothing exciting or terrifying about those.

Except that I'm starting to wonder...

Last night was my Nightmare Night.
Mary is in the bloody chair.