Surreal

At least every person has pulled off an all-nighter with their friends. When morning comes, everyone is tired. I've pulled off all-nighters myself. Not with friends, however, just by myself. It's quite fun actually, knowing that you're the only one awake while everyone else is sleeping. All is quiet, except for the occasional wisp of a car driving by, probably a late night worker or something.
I don't have a cell phone or an Xbox. My family is rather tight on money. It fools most of kids at school because my parents always focus on getting the things I need, like clothes; they always buy me the nicest clothes.
But besides all that, have you ever had a dream that was so real you could swear it was true? But the happenings were so unreal that you knew it couldn't be? That has happened to me. Often, I think it's just my brain telling me something, but sometimes the message is distorted and I just forget about the dreams all together.
Until one night, where I had a nightmare so terrifying, so real, I just couldn't forget it. I decided to try to stay up late one night, but around 3:30 AM, I fell asleep and began to have this vicious nightmare. It began with me running though a forest. I knew I wasn't supposed to be there, but yet I was running.
Perhaps I was running from something, or maybe I was lost and trying to get out. Suddenly, there was a change in the dream, and I began to see horrifying things hanging from the trees. There were dead bodies and severely deformed children pinned and hanging from the trees. I even saw clear and black garbage bags with bodies inside them. I had to get out of there, I just had to. This place was horrible.
Then, I came upon a house in the middle of the woods. It was old; the paint flaked and the windows were boarded up. There was a puddle of blood on the porch. I decided to ignore it and proceed up the steps. Even though the house was frightening and uninviting, I wanted to take a look inside. Suddenly, the front door flew open and a man emerged, wearing an old cloak and hood over a blank white mask with two eye holes on it.
"Good evening," he said. His voice was calm, but I was still frightened. "I see you made it to the party."
He then invited me into the house, I didn't move. The nightmare then changed, and I was someplace else. I completely forgot about the man and the forest and now focused my attention on where I currently was. I was in some sort of warehouse. From the looks of it, it was abandoned. I was tied to a chair. I didn't know where I was. There was the faint taste of blood in my mouth. I tried calling out for help, but all I heard was the soft echo of my cries. I stopped, listening to the echo fade away. Then suddenly, I heard a familiar voice.
"Hello again, young man. I see you found my secret hiding place. Not to worry, I'll have you over with in no time."
Out of the shadows came the man I met back at the house in the woods, still wearing his cloak and a plain white mask with two eye holes in it. He walked over to a wall and plucked a sickle from a hook. "Ah," he said as he admired the tool, "this should do the trick." He then walked over to me and held the sickle up to my face and said, "This won't hurt a bit." For a moment, I actually believed him.
Then I woke up.
It was impossible. I was in my bed? But that couldn't be! I swear I hadn't fallen asleep. Or had I? I checked my clock and saw that it read 3:31 AM. A minute? No! This isn't right. I rolled over on my back and stared up at my ceiling. That mask that man wore, his outfit, the bodies, it all seemed too real. But it couldn't be real. Why is it that when you have a dream, you know things aren't what they are supposed to be, yet you never confront anything. That man's voice echoed inside my skull, this won't hurt a bit.
I decided not to fall asleep out of fear that I would relive that awful nightmare. The next night, I decided to do the same thing, and the next night, and the next. I became very tired, and my parents wondered what was wrong. I told them I was just having bad dreams.
They shrugged it off, as most parents do. I don't know what's real anymore. For all I know, I could be asleep this whole time and wake up in that god-awful warehouse where that man would torture me. Or was that a forgotten memory that I had been re-living? No, my parents would tell me, wouldn't they? Could all this be a dream? I don't think I want to sleep anymore.
This won't hurt a bit.
Category:Dreams/Sleep