Thanks

I've always wanted to know how to control myself in dreams. It seemed like everyone around me knew how to, but I never learned or had the skill to do so. To be honest, the problem really wasn't bad; a lot of people don't know how to control themselves in dreams, apparently. It's just that I feel sometimes, my dream character (or whatever you'd like to call him/her) always made the wrong decisions, which lead me to a nightmare or just made the dream itself boring.
As I stated before, it really wasn't a big deal, but I wanted to learn how to do it. It seemed like it would be cool, controlling myself in a new world that only I and the characters of my imagination could experience. It would sort of be like a movie, or a video game, that I was a part of. 
For that reason, I decided to look up how to lucid dream on Google. I went to my computer, opened up Google Chrome, navigated to google.com (I trust Google search bar more than Google Chrome's search bar for some dumb reason, even though it's basically the same thing) and looked up how to control myself in dreams.
Within seconds, thousands upon thousands of suggestions popped up for my search, the most viewed options being put on the first page for me. I clicked the top page listed, but it was long, and I'm pretty lazy, so I went back to click on the second option, a Yahoo page.
Whenever I looked up problems, if there was a Yahoo page for it, I used it. I never really liked using anything else, because other pages were usually complex and long, while most Yahoo answers were short and to the point.
Anyways, after I selected it, I saw a question pop up, asked by a guy without an icon. The specific title of the question was, "How can I control myself in dreams?" Basically the one I wanted to know the answer to, so I read the post to make sure me and this other person were on the same footing.
The person asked:
"I don't mean being able to recognize that I'm in a dream. I mean how can I actually control myself, period. In my dreams, I often feel like I'm more of a 'camera', and that the dream is a predetermined story. I have no control over my actions or input whatsoever. I can't even think in dreams. I'm trying to learn how to lucid dream, and one of the methods of realizing you're in a dream is apparently to look at a mirror or text or your own hands, or to try to push your finger through your palm. It's difficult to do when you're a puppet. I've spoken to a friend, and she says that she has enough control to make herself look at things (and she didn't even know what lucid dreaming was until a few days ago when I told her about it). So, is my situation normal? How do I snap out of it? Thank you in advance for helpful answers."
This seemed to be the question I wanted to know the answer to, so I looked for the top answer to it. Obviously, it wasn't hard to find, since it was right underneath the question.
The answer stated:
"Simply realizing that I'm dreaming gives me control over myself in the dream. I think you kind of have to expect to control yourself and just do it. Framing it like you have something preventing you from doing it is wrong, I feel. Believing that is enough to prevent it, like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Just keep recognizing that you are dreaming and focus on that. Remember this conversation or the fact that you're realizing you're dreaming and that it means you can control yourself. I think that should be enough."
My friends that can control themselves while dreaming have told me this same answer. I really wanted to know how to do it, so I took their words into consideration again. 
I tried my hardest to follow the advice. For the next four days, I attempted to control myself in my dreams, but my efforts failed. The fifth day, however, seemed to be my lucky day, because somehow, through the struggle, I learned how to do it.
I could now control myself in my dreams. Doing so was really as much fun as I thought it would be, to be honest. It made me realize how fucked up the dream characters' logic is, how weird the situations are, and that's it. Still, it was pretty nice to be able to say I could exert free will in my dreams.
About a month afterwards, I found out how to properly lucid dream, I had a really weird one. When I fell asleep, I was with a crowd of people, all huddled around outside. We were all standing around watching this guy talk (about something I've now forgotten) behind a podium. The people around me were listening intently, and if I remember correctly, nodding in agreement.
I found this pretty boring, and walked away from the crowd. As I went on, the crowd and the person speaking kept getting smaller and smaller, and it seemed like I was moving into nothingness. Why I kept walking into this void, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to explore... well... myself. I was more interested in what my brain would make up now. 
As I continued, I felt a huge blast to my back, and fell over. Yes, I know what you're thinking. This guy can feel pain in a dream? Well, it wasn't exactly pain. It was most likely my brain trying to trick me into feeling pain. I really can't explain what I felt, because some things the mind can do are unexplainable.
Anyways, after I had been hit by the unknown force, I guess what seemed to be the "camera" of the dream shifted its view to my back, where I was laying face forward on the ground, apparently unconscious (sleeping in a dream where I'm sleeping; perfect, I know).
I could see my back, and by the looks of it, there was no way this character was me. I could not see his face, but the back of the head had short, grey hair, probably with some small bald spots. I guess you could say he looked reasonably old, but not older than 50, most likely.
The "camera" of my dream had teleported to the person who'd knocked me out, which seemed to be a man with a mask on and a long black cape covering his body. He seemed around my height, if not a bit taller. Maybe six feet, give or take an inch or two. He didn't have a weapon of any kind, so how he knocked me over with enough force to knock me out, I have no clue.
The camera now teleported to what seemed to be a lab. The place had tables with many different liquid mixtures, but the main part of it that I noticed was a big metal table in the middle with a body tied down on it. The camera of my dream was too far away to identify them, but it seemed obvious that whoever was tied down was most likely myself.
Within seconds of being magically teleported to the lab, I started to hear footsteps. They were quiet as first, then became louder and louder as they went on. The sound could only be described as someone wearing boots walking on a wooden floor. Weird, because by the look of the well-made lab, it seemed likely that the floor was made of a type of metal, or at least had metal textiles of some sort.
Finally, as the footsteps got as loud as they could, I saw the man who I assumed had knocked me over, looking at my (probably staring; I couldn't tell since he still had the mask on) tied down, unconscious body. About five seconds later, I guess my character woke up, as I was in control of my body again.
I tried to move and squirm, but whatever he had me tied down with, he'd done it well. It seemed like a rope or something like that, but where he'd tied it to so I wouldn't be able to get up, I still don't know. I started to scream and cry after a while, but the man showed no emotion through his mask as he stared down at my character's body.
The camera teleported to what seemed to be his hand, which was holding a small kitchen knife. It looked like it wasn't too sharp. The camera shifted to my arm, with my hand in the middle of the screen, and you could see his hands moving into the frame with the weapon.
That was when, with one hand, he held down my already tied-down hand, and with the other, slowly cut into my pinkie. It took him a while to slice it off completely with the weak knife, but I could tell that he wanted this to last. As he maimed me, you could hear my loud cries and shouts, but that didn't faze him. He then moved on to my ring finger, which he seemed to cut off even slower. I responded with more screams and cries.
He moved on to the next finger, which he seemed to cut off even slower. He did this with all of my fingers - it felt like the more I screamed and cried, the slower he cut off the next one.
This was pure hell. I was hopeless. I was being tortured in a never-ending dream... and the worst part was, I could actually feel the pain.
Eventually, he got through all my fingers. That was when I thought he'd end me, and my tortured dream would be over. I was so wrong.
He ended up cutting my entire hand off, then my arms, before moving on to the other side. I know for a fact that my cries were probably the loudest sound I could possibly make, but in this lab shut off from the rest of this world, they meant nothing.
After he finished cutting off both my arms off with the knife, he patched them up. I couldn't help thinking about how stupid that was in the moment, but then it came to me; he was trying to keep me from bleeding out. He was trying to make this hell as pure as possible.
After he patched both my nubs for arms off, he moved on to my feet. He took off my shoes and socks with his hands, and needless to say, started with my toes, then my feet, then my legs, and ended with patching me up.
It was the most painful experience I had ever lived through, and I was dreaming. Why would this happen? What was the point of all of this?
Then the man in the mask started to unzip my pants. "God, no, PLEASE!" I pleaded as new tears flowed down my eyes. "Please, just not there..."
This is when the man finally made the first sound I'd heard throughout the dream. His laughter. It was deep, and sounded somewhat sadistic. To be honest, it sounded like my laugh.
As the man laughed, he pulled down my pants, then my boxers. He put his knife right next to my testicles. I screamed as loud as I could, but from all the previous screaming, my voice was close to dead, and wasn't very audible. The closer his knife got to my flesh, the harder, deeper, and more sadistic his laugh became. As I felt the cold, blood-covered knife on me, he put his mask-covered face next to mine.
"You're welcome," he said.
That was when I woke up. I jumped out of bed onto the floor, and when I say jumped, I literally mean jumped. I covered what felt like four or five feet. As I realized I was awake, I put my hand over my heart, to see how fast it was beating. The thing was racing like a bat out of hell.
"Goddamn it," I said, "I have to take my pills again."
I went to my cabinet, grabbed my heart pills, and headed downstairs for a glass of water. As I poured it into the cup, I saw the family picture I put up next to the sink. Well, it was me and my Dad. My mom passed away giving birth to me.
I sighed. I hated my Dad. It wasn't the way he raised me... it was the way he treated me after I graduated. He started calling me in the middle of college classes, telling me I was worthless and putting me down. Why? I don't know. He gained the habit of drinking after I graduated from high school, but why he would belittle me, I still do not know. This wasn't really the biggest problem, however. That was with my fiancée. Just about two years before I graduated from college and three months before me and her were going to get married, my Dad came to my apartment with her. We talked a bit and drank, but when I asked him why he would send me such hateful calls, he went apeshit. He started calling me every disgraceful name in the book. Asshole, bitch, son of a bitch, horseshit, an accident, etc.
That's when I decided to stand up for myself, not only because I knew this was wrong, but also to show my fiancée I wasn't some weak kid. But as soon as I stood up, Dad grabbed the bottle of wine he was drinking and slapped me across the face with it, breaking the glass, causing shards to slash through my cheek. It hurt like a bitch, but that wasn't the worst. Just as I was going to get up to kick the living hell out of him, I saw my fiancée lying on the ground with two glass shards struck through her; one through her left eye and one through her skull. As I saw this sight, I cried. I guess that's when Dad thought it was smart to beat it, so he left. I called the police and the ambulance, but they couldn't find where my Dad went, or bring back my soon-to-be wife.
Now, two years from the incident, I have my own house, make a lot of money from the job I work at, but still do not have the love of my life with me. I stare deeply into my Dad's loving smile on the wall as tears roll down my face. What had changed with him?
That was when I heard another soft cry.
I wiped my eyes and looked around. I didn't see anyone, but the cry sounded close. I kept quiet for a second and heard it get somewhat louder. It seemed like it was coming down from the basement door.
I opened it and went down the stairs. I saw my Dad tied down with ropes to the legs of a metal table I never purchased. I looked over to see another table, and a small kitchen knife. I walked over to the tables and looked at my Dad crying, pleading for me to help him, then at the knife, and then at my Dad again.
"Thanks."
Category:NSFW
Category:Dismemberment
Category:Dreams/Sleep
Category:Mental Illness