The Dream

Phauxe Kitsune · Postby **Phauxe Kitsune** » Wed Jun 22, 2005 3:27 pm

I've had dreams for as long as I can remember. I know that probably sounds silly. Everyone has dreams. However, my dreams are always the same. Sometimes there is something new, sometimes a minor detail changes. However, for the most part, the dream is the same. It always begins with me waking up in the dream. I'm in a dark room, laying on my back. Darkness envelops me. I wonder where I am, but remain calm. I roll my head from one side to the other, trying to find a clue, but in the darkness there is nothing to be detected. When I was a child, this was the point where I would wake up. I wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep for hours afterwards. I was afraid of waking up in that room again, alone and lost. Sleep, a luxury that many children enjoy, became an enemy, and only when I could keep my eyelids open no longer, I would be taken again back to the room. It was a vicious cycle. As the years passed, I began to adjust to the dream. I knew it would find me every time I drifted off, and I knew that I would be woken because of it. Even with all of the anticipation, I could not prepare myself for it. It was always on my mind. It seemed every moment that I was awake, I was thinking about it. I never told anyone, thou/gh. It wasn't that I was afraid they wouldn't believe me; I was afraid that they would. I had embedded in my mind the image of being taken to hospitals and having tests administered to my mind, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. That was the best case scenario. My real fear was therapy. I'm not exactly sure why, but going to a psychiatrist was something I terribly dreaded and would avoid at all costs. Therefore, I always had to face the dream alone. By the time I made it to high school, I did have a somewhat normal sleep schedule. At least, it was as normal as I could manage. I had mastered the art of falling back to sleep relatively quickly after being woken by the dream. Of course, I did go to bed at unreasonably early hours to account for the multiple times I would be woken. If I hadn't appeared sleep-deprived and worn out all of my life, my parents would have probably thought I was on drugs. No highschooler is in bed before nine; it just doesn't happen. Still, for me, that was life. After I had mastered a fairly workable sleep schedule, I decided it was time to explore the dream. Even though I would still have the same lingering feeling of lonliness when I woke, I was becoming increasingly curious about the dream. I wanted to find out as much as I could from it, and the only way I could do that was by staying in it as long as I could. This was the best solution I could think of on my own. Needless to say, it wasn't easy and took months of practice. Even then I had only managed to turn my head a few more times before waking with a jolt in my bed. Then, one hot summer night, my efforts were rewarded. I had troubles falling asleep to begin with because of the immense heat and the lack of any cooling mechanism in my room. I'm not sure what time I finally fell asleep, but I guessed it to be past four in the morning. It didn't take long before I was in the room once again. As always, I turned my head from one way to the other, looking into the darkness and seeing nothing. Then, I discovered something new. I was laying on a bed. At least, that's what I thought it was. I needed to be certain, though. It took considerable effort and care to move my right hand from its resting spot on my chest to the surface I was laying on. When I made contact, there was no doubt in my mind that it was a bed. I could feel the soft sheets beneath me, softer than any I had ever felt in my life. I sat up with a jolt. Cold sweat covered my body. I felt more alone at that moment than I had in my whole entire life. For the first time in years, I remained awake for hours. By the time I was ready to think about sleep again, the sun had already risen. Again, I laid in bed for a long time before sleep took me. Unfortunately, when the dream came, I again moved my hand to the soft bedding and again I woke in a cold sweat. My biggest foe had regained the upper ground. I wasn't about to give up that easily, though. Persistence is key, I told myself. Plus, after that night, I began to make quicker progress. By the end of the week, I was lifting one of my hands to my face. It may not sound that impressive, but I was able to see it. For the first time in the dream, I was able to see something. It appeared that there was a dim light reflecting off of my hand, but I could not detect a source of the illumination. After another week, I was able to sit up and swing my feet over the edge of the bed. My body appeared to have the same sim illumination. However, whenever I scanned the room, I could see no source. All I could see was black. I also found out that I was always wearing the same clothes that I wore to bed that night. There was a down side, though. By this point, the dream seemed even more hauntingly real. I felt more and more alone each time, and the feeling took longer and longer to leave. I was a wreck. Sleep was truly an enemy, and I fought it at all costs. I became very addicted to coffee to the point where I had to walk to the store at least once a day to buy more. It wasn't a healthy lifestyle, and I was losing weight rapidly. I felt myself growing weaker. Whenever sleep did finally take me away, I still forced myself onward as much as I could. There had to be a way to end this. As the next two weeks passed, it became hard for me to determine what truly was real and what was created by the dream. Some nights when I was asleep, I would wake in the dream and mistake it for reality. Other times I would mistake reality for the dream. I was able to remedy this by sleeping with a light on at all times. As for the dream, I was making more progress, but it had slowed. I was almost able to stand. Something always prevented me from reaching a full upright position, though. I could never stay in the dream long enough to find out what it was. Then, one night, another breakthrough was made. I heard a female voice. It called out to me, saying my name. It was lonely, sad, and far off in the distance. "Taf.... Taf...." it repeated. I had never heard the voice before, but it had a familiarity to it. I tried to answer, but I wasn't able to. This time, when I woke, not only did I feel lonely, but I also felt incredibly crestfallen. The next time the dream found me, I heard the voice again. I called back to the woman, using a name I cannot remember. I could tell she was approaching as her voice became closer. Then, I saw her in the distance. She glowed with a beautiful and radiant whiteness that took my breath away. As she came closer, I became certain that she was the most majestic thing that had ever graced my sight. As her face became crisp and clear, I realized that there were tears slowly streaking down her face. I met her gaze and knew that she no longer cried tears of sorrow but rather of joy. I sat down on the bed again and she took a seat beside me. "Taf, I never thought you would make it," she said, speaking to me with the voice of an angel. "It's been so long." I wrapped my arms around her and held her close in a hug. I didn't know what else to say or do. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I released her. I looked at her face again to see the most lovely smile. "Please, promise you'll never leave me again," she asked. "No, I could never do that," I responded. Without another word, we laid back on the bed, arms wrapped around one another in a caring embrace. Sleep swept us away within minutes. He knocked on the door that afternoon. His son had been in bed for nearly the whole day. Something wasn't right. He knocked again. "Taf, come on. You need to get up. I know you have been having trouble with sleep lately, but that's no excuse to waste a whole day," he said loudly. There was no answer. He reached down then and tried the handle to discover the door was unlocked. He knocked again, louder this time. Again, he was greeted with no response. He sighed and turned the handle on the door. Without further hesitation, he pushed it open. The room was empty.

Bocaj Claw · Postby **Bocaj Claw** » Wed Jun 22, 2005 7:18 pm

Hmm. Thats very interesting. Freud believed that recurring dreams such as that were representative of important unconcscious problems. Biological pyschologists believed, on the other hand that Freud was full of it, and that dreams were just the random firing of synapses. Neither explanation does this justice, though. I don't think I fully understand but I leave you with these words: "you have nothing to fear but fear itself."

Paul.Power · Postby **Paul.Power** » Wed Jun 22, 2005 8:13 pm

<table border='0' align='center' width='95%' ><tr><td class='quotetop'>Quote: (Bocaj Claw @ Jun 22 2005, 07:18 PM)</td></tr><tr><td class='quotebody'> Hmm. Thats very interesting. Freud believed that recurring dreams such as that were representative of important unconcscious problems. Biological pyschologists believed, on the other hand that Freud was full of it, and that dreams were just the random firing of synapses. Neither explanation does this justice, though. I don't think I fully understand but I leave you with these words: "you have nothing to fear but fear itself."  </td></tr></table>  The last two paragraphs suggest to me this is a fictional piece.

Mista_B · Postby **Mista_B** » Wed Jun 22, 2005 8:17 pm

Nightmares can be fun when you fight back.

Bocaj Claw · Postby **Bocaj Claw** » Wed Jun 22, 2005 8:33 pm

<table border='0' align='center' width='95%' ><tr><td class='quotetop'>Quote: (Paul.Power @ Jun 22 2005, 04:13 PM)</td></tr><tr><td class='quotebody'> The last two paragraphs suggest to me this is a fictional piece.  </td></tr></table>  It gave me that impression too. If it is ficition then there's a switch in narration between the beginning and the end i believe.

Phauxe Kitsune · Postby **Phauxe Kitsune** » Wed Jun 22, 2005 9:09 pm

Yeah, it's a work of fiction and the narration does change at the end. It was just something that I wrote in a rather sleep-deprived state and decided to bring it back here to post. Also, I've been meaning to make a post and let you guys know that I'm still around, just inactive.

Bocaj Claw · Postby **Bocaj Claw** » Wed Jun 22, 2005 9:11 pm

Well welcome back! <img src='http://definecynical.mancubus.net/forum ... /laugh.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='laugh.gif' />

Paul.Power · Postby **Paul.Power** » Wed Jun 22, 2005 9:14 pm

<table border='0' align='center' width='95%' ><tr><td class='quotetop'>Quote: (Bocaj Claw @ Jun 22 2005, 08:33 PM)</td></tr><tr><td class='quotebody'>  <table border='0' align='center' width='95%' ><tr><td class='quotetop'>Quote: (Paul.Power @ Jun 22 2005, 04:13 PM)</td></tr><tr><td class='quotebody'> The last two paragraphs suggest to me this is a fictional piece. </td></tr></table>  It gave me that impression too. If it is ficition then there's a switch in narration between the beginning and the end i believe.  </td></tr></table>  Well, there is. It changes from first-person from Taf's PoV to third-person from his father's PoV. It was pretty believable up to that point, simply because of the first-person viewpoint. But yeah, true stories don't really come from multiple angles. And the last line is a dead giveaway because that sort of thing doesn't happen. Switching gears, it's very nicely written, and pretty thought provoking. I couldn't write like that, but then my writing style is built on completely different principles (<a href='http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/19305421/' target='_blank'>yes, that's a not-so-covert plug</a>). I take a very direct, even rushed, narrative approach, as though I can't wait to get onto the next good bit. I also can't resist being chatty, even at serious moments. But this piece gives a sense of deliberation and seriousness, which I guess adds to how real the piece feels.

Ruedii-X · Postby **Ruedii-X** » Sun Jun 26, 2005 6:38 am

Strange I make up stories like that in my head all the time, I never write them down. I probably should. Oh well, why haven't you been here, is it at all related to that writing. I'm quite happy to see people that haven't been here in a while. I've been away a while too. I've sort of been picking up the pieces of where I left my life 4 years ago, and fully realizing the pain of all the broken memories and plans I had. It causes a lot of emotional pain to think about things that you would rather forget, and sometimes I'm tempted to just forget about my past and not complete the cycle by looking at the past, but that would be throwing away all that I have learned from my past mistakes, and I would undoubtly just make the same mistakes over and over. While I don't think one should dwell on the past, one should find what one can learn from it. BTW, I used to always have dreams where I wandered around in the dark. These dreams were unusually consistant. I would somehow know where everything was, but would not be able to see. They sort of disappeared a couple of months ago. I often feel that it reflected my state of mind, that no matter how much I tried, if I didn't let the light from my heart shine out, I couldn't see my surroundings for what they were, but could only vaugly feel and remember them.

Rooster · Postby **Rooster** » Mon Jun 27, 2005 11:47 am

I've got an actual dream. I'm standing alone on some dirt road, trees on one side and a small wooden shed on the other. I'm smoking a cigarette and kicking dust with my feet. I hear something and pull out a weapon I didn't know I had, I think it's a rifle. I call something then feel relaxed when I see three figures walking towards me. I guess I know them. Then one of them points a gun towards me and shouts somethingthat makes me turn around. I feel a punch in the chest and I collapse against the wood building and onto the floor. I reach my hand out towards the three figures. Then I'm being dragged along the ground by my arms, I remember kicking my feet to help. Then stuff goes blurry and then I'm in the back of a car or something, with my head in someone's lap and my legs up on the back of the driver's seat. I put my hand down to my chest and it hurts. I remember that I'm wearing finger gloves and a green jacket. I look up at the figure holding me but I can't see his face, but he is wearing a helmet. Pretty freaky...I've had it three times now, exactly the same each time. Scares the bejesus out of me.

Steve the Pocket · Postby **Steve the Pocket** » Mon Jun 27, 2005 2:58 pm

You know what this reminds me of? Stephen Crane. That was cool! I honestly believed, for the longest time, that this was real stuff you were talking about until you switched to third person at the end. WOW. But then I'm a sucker for cleverly conceived short stories.

Dr. Doog · Postby **Dr. Doog** » Mon Jun 27, 2005 4:17 pm

the desription of the dream seemed slightly off from what I percieve dreams to be capable of and led me to believe it was fictious from the beginning, but I decided to read on in case you were really some nut job <img src='http://definecynical.mancubus.net/forum ... s/wink.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='wink.gif' />. really good work, I loved it.

Tom Flapwell · Postby **Tom Flapwell** » Mon Jun 27, 2005 6:40 pm

I once had a series of dreams in which I got shot by a random psycho, always in a different body part. The most interesting was one in which I got shot in the back right at the beginning. I saw an old lady walking down the street and called to her for help. She turned out to be my least favorite of my sister's friends, wearing a grey wig. She smiled and point me to a phone that was rigged up to an oak for some reason, told me a seven-digit number to dial, and left. I dialed the number and got a prototypical recording of a woman's voice, reciting a paragraph's worth of tips on how to stay fit and healthy, from "Brush your teeth after every meal" to a sing-songy "And always eat your vegetables!" Wait a minute, I thought; I should be dialing 911. So I did. I got the exact same voice, this time reciting safety tips. I like to think my real city's forces aren't that incompetent.

Phauxe Kitsune · Postby **Phauxe Kitsune** » Mon Jun 27, 2005 7:17 pm

Thanks everyone for the responses. Never thought I would get that kind of analysis of my work. Anyways, in actuality, I usually never have reoccuring dreams. The last one I had was over a year ago. I kept dreaming that things in my room were out of place, but I wouldn't get out of bed to put them where they belong. Of course, every time something was different, but the general premise of the dream was the same. Anyways, with this work, I did want to stick with first person throughout. I ran into a problem with the ending, though, and couldn't figure out a good way to handle it while staying in first person. I also tossed around a bunch of different ideas for an ending before deciding on this one. Also, Ruedii-X, my leave was really caused by lack of time to visit. School, work, and life has been keeping me pretty tied down (not necessarily all at the same time; they have a polite way of taking turns). I still stop by when I can, but I usually don't post.

Tai · Postby **Tai** » Wed Jun 29, 2005 11:03 pm

I rarely dream, and only can vaguely remember the ones that I DO have. They always turn out interesting (latest one, to the best of my knowledge, involved marshal artists, legos, and myself in a mall, then a jump into a pier), and I get frustrated trying to remember them; the more I try to the harder it is, and trying NOT to think about it in the hopes that it will come to me results in me forgetting what happened <img src='http://definecynical.mancubus.net/forum ... /sleep.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='sleep.gif' /> Very interesting read, is there more where this came from?

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