- 22 More Quick Shivers: from the Dailynightmare.com (Volume 2) Softcover version from Amazon 22 More Quick Shivers from Dailynightmare.com .pdf download
Share Your NightmaresShare your strange dreams and odd aversions with:
grimgnome (at) dailynightmare (dot) com
Nightmares by Typealiens animal attacks animals art babies blood bones bugs cars childhood Christmas city country creepy houses crime darkness death families food ghosts guns Halloween health health problems house intruder monster monsters movie movies murder party police skulls suffocation Theatre Bizarre torture trapped underground urban horror vampires violence work-related Xmas zombies
Vault of Horrors
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- August 2016
- June 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- May 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- September 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- May 2010
- April 2010
- March 2010
- February 2010
- January 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009
- July 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- April 2009
- March 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- November 2008
- October 2008
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
Top Posts & Pages
- Halloween Playlist: 13 Songs about Wolves, Werewolves and Shapeshifters
- Halloween Playlist: 13 Songs about Ghosts
- An Interview with Kathe Koja about nerve and their upcoming production of Alice
- Death, Fear and Bad Decisions: Green Burial Options
- Three and a half reasons I love "Blood Orgy at Beaver Lake"
- A Brief History of Dark Clowns
- This Just In - Shrunken Head UP FOR AUCTION!
- Nightmare #226 - Clown Hospital
- Montilee Stormer's Traveling Moleskine
- UNBOXING: Aleister and Adolf
(30’s, Midwest USA)
One of my anxiety coping mechanisms is to imagine a cute fluffy cat is sitting next to me, and I’m petting the creature and it’s purring. Yes, that sounds like a wonderfully relaxing scenario, doesn’t it?
I was using this coping mechanism the other night, trying to relax and sleep, holding that warm and cuddly image in my mind, and I finally drifted off to sleep to dream about the cat. However, it wasn’t fluffy anymore. It was mangy. It hopped off the bed and crawled under the sofa. It started clawing the bottom of the sofa, tearing at the polyester fabric and foam padding underneath. I realized that this cat wanted to make a secret nest inside the sofa! The cat is working hard and persistently, and soon the cat has its head, its front paws, and much of its shoulders inside the sofa. Its front claws are extended all the way so it can claw and scratch in there.
Then the fabric on the outside of the sofa, where the original tear is, catches on something. The cat starts to strangle. It panics. Because it is panicking, it can’t pull its claws back in to pull itself out of the sofa. The more it struggles, the more tangled it gets, the more it strangles.
The cat, the fluffy ideal that started out as my coping mechanism, strangled itself to death half in and half out of a hideous 70’s sofa.
I’m now upgraded my coping mechanism to a giant snuggly St. Bernard.
I’m testing different types of capsules, landing capsules even. I’m led over to a new capsule, and this one looks like a crash couch. The capsule is round, and the astronaut lies in it in the fetal position.
They open the top for me to get in, and the interior is very very hot. It reeks of gasoline. They need me to get in it, and they are going to fill it with gasoline. Then they will heat it up and see if the gas catches fire with me inside.
If i do this, I know I’ll die. I know the last person who tested this died, and the interior is still hot from them testing it with him in it.
As i start climbing into the capsule, I wake up.
In this vlog, Doktor Leech opens the Traveling Moleskine, a nifty project for writers spawned by horror writer MontiLee Stormer. MontiLee assembled a list of creative types who each get an opportunity to contribute to the Traveling Moleskine. It’s sort of like a chain letter, but with more creativity and potential mayhem.
The Doktor freaks out a bit because in opening the package and reading the instructions, he discovers that each contributor only gets ONE WEEK to make their mark before sending the book along to the next artiste… and he’s postponed opening this package WAY TOO LONG.
Both The Gruesome Doktor and Montilee Stormer are members of the Great Lakes Association of Horror Writers.
The Doktor and Elsa L have just returned from DogCon5, an annual gathering hosted by small press publisher Raw Dog Screaming Press. DogCon brought together business owners, publishers, publicists, editors, and a slew of other writers at the Delaware shore in a community aptly named Broadkill Beach for a weekend of learning, sharing, writing, gaming and general carousing near the Atlantic Ocean. A fantastic time was had by all!
Here’s the Doktor’s video report which includes a walk-through of the beach house accommodations as well as cameo appearances from other attendees, a peek at Dogfish Head Brewery, a cartwheel (!) by Elsa L, and DONUTS!
We can’t wait to do it all again next year! Thanks, RSDP!
This dream was mostly an image– one that startled me when I told the story to a friend the following day:
Someone was playing Tic Tac Toe—
On my wrist —
In my blood—
Using their teeth.
I don’t know who won and who lost, but, really, does it matter?
Doktor Leech celebrates his birthday Dailynightmare-style with the gift of a cat skull from The Skull Store (http://www.skullstore.ca/). Check it out to learn a bit about the legal status and import laws about skulls as well as gaining appreciation for all skeletons, including yours.
Doktor Leech gleefully unboxes a painting he commissioned from Menton Matthews III a.k.a. Menton3 and suggests that perhaps what others are calling “Dark Art” might better be called the art of Dark Interiority. He also likens this movement to the older genres of allegory and even religious art.
Menton and David Stoupakis had a sold-out show at New York’s Last Rites Gallery in 2015 called “The Kindly Ones.” All of the pieces dealt with the Fates, figures figures of divine retribution and justice that the ancient Greeks feared so greatly they referred to them as “The Kindly Ones” rather than risk evoking them by using their name. Though the Doktor missed that show, he was able to commission a painting from Menton which he unboxes in this video.
Menton along with Faith Betinis and Michael Knight, are opening Ars Memoria Tattoo Shop and Gallery in Chicago — Grand opening May 6th, 2016 — which utterly delights the Doktor, since he hopes that means he won’t have to trek to New York or California to see world class art that reflects the shadowy recesses of the human heart.
Doktor Leech opens three signed art prints from Menton3 and once again does NOT remove a finger with his Happy Knife. This VLOG was filmed in mid-December before the Doktor figured out lighting, editing and how to, um, talk without, um, pausing so much, ah, between words. He still kicks ass, though.
Tickets for GenCon 2016 went on sale recently, so the Doktor looks back on his haul from the GenCon 2015 Dealer Room, including:
— and an angry yellow elder god from Cthulhu Wars
Who knew Con-shopping could be so much fun?
On the Pagan holiday, Imbolc, the Doktor is once again opening a special package, and he can hardly contain his excitement.
Watch as the Doktor opens this one-of-a-kind hand carved bear skull (yes, a real bear skull!) and shows off the fine craftsmanship of Rachel Lee. How can you get your hands on such a treasure? Follow the Doktor’s tips for discovering the best bone art worth owning.
Follow Rachel Lee’s Instagram on @Rachleeroth.
Doktor Leech is on Instagram @grimgnome13.
News broke on January 30, 2016 that a Grosse Point Park couple who run a biological supply company which rents of body parts for training purposes were charged with fraud. The charges filed claim that their business failed to disclose to the leasees of heads and other body parts that the specimens sometimes came from bodies with infectious diseases, such as HIV and Hepatitis B.
Our local online newspaper Mlive took the click-bait road with a headline that read “Michigan couple charged with renting out disease-infested human heads.” That headline has inspired nearly 5000 shares on social media so far.
It’s worth noting however that the couple involved, Arthur Rathburn and Elizabeth Rathburn, ran a completely legitimate medical business. International Biological Inc. is a legal business which supplies medical and dental training programs with human heads and other body parts. The couple legally procured donated human bodies, dismembered them, and provided them to medical and dental professionals for a rental fee. It does appear that the couple sometimes obtained disease-infected bodies at discounted prices. The issue was not that heads were rented, but that the company failed to notify the renters of such body parts that some were infected with diseases and that they made false statements about body parts in their possession.
As in all businesses, not being honest about the sources, condition or safety of one’s products– be they heads, cars, food, or children’s toys– is fraud. This business deserves the American standard assumption of “innocent until proven guilty” just as much as any other– even if their business is rental heads.
More details can be found here at Crain’s Detroit Business.
“You’ve got mail” doesn’t get much weirder than this!
In this clip, the Doktor is excited about unboxing some highly unusual porcine pretties. What is the deal with this package? Why does he want them? And what will he do with them?
Tune into this unboxing video to learn about the strange phenomena of mummified piglets, get the answers to these questions, and grow in your knowledge of our version of Midwest Weird.
(USA, 50’s) This nightmare was a strange one, sort of anti-climactic and almost boring, after the bang-up start. It began with a cut and ended with… I don’t know what.
I was in a strange apartment with a bunch of friends– dream friends, not real ones — but we were all there together. I think we all lived there together.
In my dream, everyone was dying.
All of our throats were cut, and all of our blood had poured out on the floor. Everyone’s neck had a big gash in it.
We were all so sad. And we felt tired. After all my blood had drained out, I felt so so tired. I was sure I was going to lie down and die any minute.
But I didn’t.
That was the weird part: shouldn’t we all be dead already?
But we weren’t. We were dying, but slowly, or at least not right away. So it seemed like we might as well do the laundry… and clean up the apartment a bit… and talk to each other. We just kept going because it seemed like a good idea, that is, to keep moving and keep doing things, even when we didn’t know when it might all end.
After I woke up, I was haunted by that knowledge: we ARE all dying. We don’t know when. Do something already.
Here at the Dailynightmare, we review movies, books, performances, artworks, and events. We take a look at and evaluate jewelry, food products, clothing, crafts, art openings, and film festivals. We take our analysis further still and report on retreats, crowd funding campaigns, software and apps, weird date nights, and conventions.
You might wonder– are they just doing this for the perks? Can their good opinion be courted with gifts and freebies?
Fear not, Dear Reader! Watch this clip for a thorough understanding of our review policy!
(North America, 20’s) Recently, my dentist informed me that I have been grinding my teeth in my sleep. Her suggestion was to have a bite splint made that I could wear in the night to protect my teeth. In my family, I have always had the best teeth; no cavities, no stains, and I always get good comments from my dentist each visit. But now I was being told that by grinding my teeth, I am slowly causing serious irreplaceable damage that could open me up to cavities and bed news in the future. In an effort to be a compliant patient, I have been doing my diligence and wearing my mouth guard every night, even though it is slightly uncomfortable and I’m not used to it yet. The other night, while wearing this stupid plastic contraption I had the following dream.
I was out of town at a professional development conference with a group of women I had vague friendships with, but no one I could pick out really. One morning when I woke up in my hotel room I noticed that my teeth were hurting much more than normal, but I thought, “I slept with my mouth guard in, and isn’t that supposed to help?”
When I went to the washroom to look in the mirror and take out my mouth guard, I was horrified to discover that my mouth guard had been adjusted so tightly that in the night ALL of my teeth had been pressed inward! Every one of my teeth had been flipped nearly on its side as the roots pressed out of my gums and the tops of my molars touched against my tongue in the most unusual manner.
The pain in my mouth was unbearable, and the distortion of my teeth made me unable to speak in any coherent manner. I was scared to tell the women I was with what had happened, and so instead I tried to find ways to push my teeth back into their appropriate positions. I used my finger to feel along the inside rim of my mouth, and I began sobbing.
And as I contemplated what this would mean, that I now had the most corrupted teeth in my family, I got so anxious and upset that I woke myself up.
I am walking through an unfamiliar shopping mall. Very upscale, wondering why I am even here. This is not where I would ever shop. Glistening displays wherever one looks, immaculately dressed people carrying bags of goods. Expensive leather shoes clicking on beautifully shining floors.
Suddenly, the shoppers are scattering, like oil poured into a too hot pan. Moving from the center walkways toward the walls. Grabbing each other, running in huddled groups.
They have heard the announcement before I comprehend. A man’s voice, loud and booming, “There is a shooter in the mall. He has already shot a mom and her one-year-old daughter. Move to safety. Move to safety”.
How would they know so quickly that the child is one, I ask myself. What stupid things a person thinks of when faced with danger. And where is safety ?
I look up to see he is walking toward me. I say he because I assume it’s a man from size and stature. But I cannot see his face. It is covered as is the rest of his body. Layers and layers of clothes cover every inch of him.
He is holding a rifle strapped from shoulder to hip. He steps back into a stance, one black booted foot in front of the other, raises the gun and aims directly at me.
The crowd is screaming in the distance, but the sound I hear the loudest is the bullet tearing into my skin, the crunch of my bones breaking. I know I am hit on my right side, as I fall face first, to the ground.
“Play dead, play dead” I tell myself, as I hear his footsteps coming closer. I feel his heavy boot kick my foot, looking for signs of life.
I am left alone lying there, breathing in air with the smallest of movements. The pain is searing through my right side with every tiny breath. When I finally lift my head, I am in the safety of my own bed, flannel pillowcase warming my cheek. I remind myself it was just a nightmare as I reach to touch my right hip. My side is painful. It is hurting. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a bullet hole.
Is there anything quite as magical as fire? That smell, the flare of color, the flash of heat?
Fire, fire, everywhere at Theatre Bizarre, that wonderful annual masquerade at the Masonic Theatre, Detroit Michigan. The Doktor captured just a few of the fire performances that seemed to pop up wherever we turned.
(Canada, 20’s) When I was younger I had a collection of operations to correct a birth defect and resulting life complications with my kidneys. One of the weird blessings about surgery is that once your IV is set up in pre-op, you are doped up on a collection of drugs that basically take away your consciousness of the situation around you. You are moved around, and somehow finagled to the operating table where they really put you under withanesthetic. Then, you wake up in recovery with a new scar and new pain meds, but with no memory of the past seven hours of your hospital stay.
In a recent dream, for some reason my memory was improving. I have been teased in the past for my inability to remember certain details of stories, or not realizing I am telling a story to a friend who was a part of the story itself. This dream was great in that sense, because I was remembering everything! I could tell you what color shirt my best friend had been wearing on the fourth day of high school; I could remember the recipe to my mother’s famous foods without needing to look things up; I was remembering everything and I loved it!
At least in the beginning.
As my memories began coming back, so did the memories I didn’t want, namely those of being in the hospital as a child. I began to remember being taken away from my parents in pre-op, wheeled down unfamiliar halls and taken in to stark white operating rooms, things I had previously been too drugged up for to comprehend. But that wasn’t it. These memories became increasingly upsetting as I began to remember times when I was actually no longer conscious, when I would have been sedated under heavy anesthetic. I started to ‘remember’ lying on the operating table under bright florescent lights, as the doctors began using a scaple to cut open my stomach. I ‘remembered’ watching them remove my kidney, how they talked about their vacation plans while I lay motionless with monitors hooked up to every part of me. I hated these memories. As more and more upsetting memories came flooding back to me about being in the hospital, I began experiencing the pain that those event would have caused. The scars on my stomach and side began burning, and I woke up with my heart racing. I looked around my room, felt across my stomach, realized I had only been dreaming, and was for the first time grateful for my inconsistent memory.