NightMare # Title#1
Here is a odd one that my friend had...

He was sitting in a little airplane when suddenly the door flew open. For some reason he was not wearing a seatbelt and was sucked out of the plane. As he fell face up, he could see the airplane getting smaller as he fell toward the earth. Then he hit water (still face up) and he could see the splash that the impact had created. Keeping almost his same velocity, he kept sinking, all the while being able to see fish swim over and past him. Soon the light begins to dim as he sinks further and further into the depths of the salty sea water until eventual darkness. That's when he wakes up.
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NightMare # Title#2
The night after my trip to the Caverns, I had a vivid but disjointed dream set in a sort of New England, fort-like place with dripping stone walls that descended into the ground. The stones had a full powdering of saturated indigo colors, and maggots crawled everywhere amid all types of unhealthy objects definitely related to the Caverns experience. In this setting, I am being chased down and repeatedly raped, doggie-style, by some brunette, Fabio, highlander-like character in black jackboots, black leather pants, and a linen poet's shirt. Somehow, the mix of fear and desire were intense enough so that in the dream, I was apparently digging up experiences that would probably make me insane in real life (not unlike the Caverns). Here and there, within the fort depths, were places that glowed pure purple and the surroundings of the fort had an extremely noticeable declivity. Anyhow, at some point toward the end of the dream, I'm whipped into such a sex-n'-death frenzy that I am howling at the moon, pulling my skirts up over my butt, and begging all of the demons and monsters to come and take me! It was pretty weird, but so are the Caverns. If the dream wasn't so outrageous I'd be pretty disturbed. But sometimes it takes some other person's creative endeavors to discover just how weird you really are...
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NightMare # Title#3
My worst dream: I am trapped in an old house with a huge picture window. I can look out of the window onto a very large sand pit where children are playing with their toy shovels, buckets and what not. Suddenly, they start digging up body parts; arms, legs, and a head. The head is that of my own brother! While the children continue playing and laughing, they also slowly turn into little horrid demons. I begin screaming from my space behind the window, "NO! STOP! That's my brother!" I then start running to try and get outside of the house to stop the bloody carnage, but every room I run into is just another room with a window - there are no doors! Every scene is the same scene! The demons keep laughing away while they are digging up bloody, dripping pieces of my brother! ...The same night I had the dream, my real life brother had a motorcycle accident and almost lost his limbs. It was a psychic thing.
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NightMare # Title#4
This nightmare occurred when I was about seven, I'd guess. The dream did not start out as a nightmare. My older brother and me were walking through a white room which seemed to go on forever... I could tell it was a room because the angle where the floor and the wall mated were clearly delineated. In fact, we were following the wall while I ate a piece of fudge. I'm not even sure how long we followed the wall. What happened next, though, could certainly not be attributed to a nightmare. We came across a pile of toys! I could barely make out the top of the pile as I merrily took bites out of my chocolate fudge. There were GI Joes, toy police cars and toy trucks of every variety. There I was, a kid with candy, standing next to the most tremendous treasure of my young life. I began to play with the toys as I perceived that they were meant for me. Abruptly, my play was interrupted by the venomous voice of another child demanding to know why we were playing with HIS toys. We argued, of course, that the toys were simply there for the taking. During the course of this discussion, a clown appeared and observed the exchange quietly. I don't know the cause, but I became scared. My brother, obviously sensing the danger we faced, ran off to get help. Somehow, the other child grabbed my feet while the clown grabbed my hands. They began twisting me, as one might do to wring out a wet rag. I watched as my brother's image slowly grew smaller and smaller. The clown continued to twist my body mercilessly as the other child, eating my fudge, held my feet tightly and defiantly announced that this treatment would continue unless my brother returned. The maniacal laugh of both the child and clown, however, indicated a complete indifference to the return of my brother.
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NightMare # Title#5
I was in the living room with my brother and aunt when it started out, with me feeling like I had been drugged with some sort of hallucinogen unknowingly. I tried so hard to get myself on my feet by placing my body weight on the edge of a coffee table or end table and trying to push myself up. Again and again, it was as if my arms and legs had no muscles at all, and all of my attempts were futile and frustrating. My family looked at me oddly, trying to figure out what was wrong with me... Next I was in the bathroom, falling down again and again. My brother appeared. He picked me up from the floor in an attempt to place me on the toilet, but somehow I hit the side of my right knee on the cabinets. Immediately, blood gushed from my leg and ran onto the carpet in puddles. My brother and I began screaming and he yelled out "oh, my God!" Somehow he got me back into the living room, a trail of blood followed behind his every stride. Hysterical, still somewhat confused and unable to maneuver myself, I sat on the floor with wads of paper towels and rags that filled up with blood almost instantly. Blood was everywhere, what was once beige carpet was now a crimson color all around me. It was as though the blood was literally squirting out. I mumbled something about an ambulance, but I was so frantic I didn't know what was going to happen next: was I going to die right there from loss of blood or were the paramedics on their way? I caught a glimpse of my aunt on the couch, but it seemed like she almost didn't even hear the commotion; notice the blood. I wondered if it was the drug, but discounted that from the reaction of my brother. Two insignificant phone conversations took place. One to a friend that I knew but couldn't recognize because of my hysterical state, and another from my father. Out of nowhere, my mom was there. She kept trying to light a stubborn candle on the mantle. She turned and looked at my leg where my tattoo had been, now bloody and torn, and said "Your painted skin came off!" Eyes wide, still injured and bleeding profusely, I found myself suddenly in a pub-like atmosphere. Some of the place was like a pub, some of it was like a person's home. People were dancing and drinking. I stumbled through the room trying to find an exit, knocking over tables and spilling beers. I saw a friend of mine dancing on the dance floor, which was sunken down by a few steps in relation to the level I was on. Because I was so incapacitated, I tried to get out before she saw me. This entire time it was as if I was waiting on my mom to pick me up to go to the hospital. All of a sudden I realized I had a huge gash on my forearm, cut all the way to the bone. It also bled profusely. Still clutching towels and rags to my leg and now my forearm, I found myself in the "house" part of the building. There were several people in there. My friends bag was lying on the floor and for some reason I tried to pick it up. All of the contents fell onto the floor. People were watching me, snickering. I tried again and again to pick up everything and put it back in the bag. It was as if the bag had no bottom, everything kept ending back on the floor. I kept wondering why my mom wasn't there yet. I then directed my attention to a tall rack with sliding trays. A girl stood next to me as I pulled a tray from the top, filled it with a bunch of small items, and placed it back in the rack. I did this with each tray, starting from the top. When I got about half way down, the uneven weight of the rack shifted, and as I was bent over trying to get the next tray, all of the other ones fell onto me, spilling everything onto my back and floor. I started over again with the top tray. My leg and arm were still bleeding, but not as badly as the blood started to coagulate. Finally, I go outside waiting for my mom. I see headlights and I scream out trying to get her attention. But it isn't her. It's dark out, slightly cold and there is an apparent dew on the grass. I can hear crickets chirping, music coming from inside and audible laughter. I begin to get scared, still clutching my arm and leg--squeezing. Beginning to panic again, I go back into the bar. I fall down in between two tables. I try to use the tables to push myself up, but the beers start to slide towards my face, almost falling on me. People laugh and stare. Somehow trying to escape the humiliation, I find myself at the door step of someone's home. I knock loudly. An old man opens the door. He is very disheveled, he has an old robe on over a classic pair of pajamas. He is obviously malnourished, his eyes have dark circles under them and he reeks of alcohol. I scream at him "I need to go to the emergency room! I'm bleeding to death!" Being obviously intoxicated and of no help, I push my way around him. In the next room is what appears to be his wife and a full grown daughter. I beg someone to take me to the hospital. I saw three cordless phones scattered around the room. Deciding to call 911, I grabbed one. There were about a hundred small black buttons, I couldn't find any numbers though. I try the next one and when 911 picks up, the operator seems distracted on the other end and she does not react to the urgency in my voice. Still waiting for my mom. I look out the window and see headlights. I hang up the phone. When I see it is my mom I try to run out of the room, but it feels like concrete blocks are attached to my feet. I get to the car door and I see the old, drunk man walking briskly with a cane in hand, towards the car. The thought ran through my mind: is he going to drive? he is way too drunk to drive. Realizing again that I am bleeding to death, I wonder why I care what he does. As soon as I get in the car and lock my door, he sticks his arm through the half way open window and tries to unlock the door. I'm screaming. My mom pulls away quickly, leaving him standing on the curb. She asks me why I hang around "those" people and wants to know why I am so nice to them. She pulls into a drive to what appears to be a circle-around driveway. All of a sudden she gets really close to a drop off on my side and I scream "watch out!" I hear the tires skid on the wet grass, but never grab hold. We slide off of the drop off into what I thought would just be a ravine, but the car kept falling--faster and faster. Our bodies are getting thrown all over inside the car. I can feel the speed of the fall going what seemed like a million miles an hour, I can hear tree branches breaking, the wind whistling against our fall, dirt and rocks hitting the car as we plunge downward. It seems like there is no end to the fall--way too much time to think--I see my life flash before my eyes. I know if we do survive the fall, no one could ever find us, no way could we ever climb out. I know we will either die when we hit bottom--if there is a bottom--or we will starve to death in the depths of what seems like a, so far, bottomless pit. I can feel that my mom is wedged toward the front of the plummeting car, and I am half way in the front and the backseat, pinned facing the roof of the car. Tears begin to well up in my eyes, terrified. I realize we are going to die. I place my hand on my mom's leg, right at her ankle, and I say "I love you mom. I'll see you in heaven..." Then I awoke...sobbing! Renee' Anderson
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