Nightmare #144 – Backyard Hooligans

Posted on March 23, 2008 by admin

(Female, 40′s) I was standing washing dishes in my kitchen sink– not an unusual situation at all, unfortunately. I heard the loud zoom and roar of a car engine. I moved to the window, looking down toward the street, assuming the noise was coming from there, and suddenly this golden Porsche raced down my relatively-short driveway, going extremely fast and somewhat out of control, tires spinning in the gravel. The driver’s side of the car scraped along the side of our beautiful new garage as the driver slammed on the breaks, and the car came to an abrupt halt. I went out the backdoor of my house and approached the car, bending over to see if the driver was all right. His head lolled back and forth, like he was fighting to gain consciousness or like he was on drugs, but he didn’t appear to be hurt at all. No blood. He was glaring at me through his heavy eyelids.

I went back inside to call the police. But first I called to my son. I asked him to sneak outside and get the license plate number of the car in the yard. Then I started looking in the phone book for the phone number for the police. I thought about calling 911, but I remembered reading a public service announcement that asked us not to call 911 except for true emergencies, not for car accidents. Whatever. So I got the yellow pages and started looking for the phone number there.

Meanwhile, the driver of the golden Porsche was attempting to flee the scene of the accident. He’d turned off his car lights and was slowly backing down the driveway, careful to avoid scraping any more buildings. I went to the front door and looked around, but I couldn’t see the car any where. I asked my son if he’d gotten the license plate, but he said “No” very loudly. I felt annoyed with him — “What the heck?” Then I noticed he was winking at me– he was covering, pretending he hadn’t gotten the license number because the golden Porsche was now parked in front of our house, among all the cars parked on our street. We went inside and my son jotted down the license plate number. His handwriting was terrible and I had to ask him what the numbers were!

Then I called the police station. I was routed through a series of push-button requests and put on hold, listening to musak. Then I heard the noise of a dozen car engines, racing and zooming in my driveway. The Porsche driver had returned with a bunch of his friends and they were driving 3 cars wide into our yard, making a terrible racket with their cars and their shouts. I went to the second floor, still holding the phone to my ear with the long cord trailing behind me, and I looked out on the rutkas. I leaned out of the window to see better, and I lost my balance and fell out, a whole story down, but I didn’t get hurt. The hooligans laughed at me. One produced a pair of shears and made a show of cutting the telephone cord.

I scrambled up and ran back inside the house, locking the door behind me. Then I got my cellphone and dialed the police again. I waited patiently on hold again, musak playing in the background, wondering who was going to pay for repairing the big scrapes in my new garage.

Nightmare #141 – Clumsy Bank Robber

Posted on March 14, 2008 by admin

(Male) I dreamed last night that I was waiting in line at the bank. As I neared the tellers I realized that I was carrying a handgun with me. I was flooded with a sense of embarrassment and fear but I figured the best way out of the situation was to rob the bank. So I stepped out of line and yelled at everyone to get down on the ground. I waved the gun around a little bit to show everyone just how serious I was. And I dropped the gun. I didn’t just drop it but rather I let go of it and watched it go sliding along the floor ending up probably twenty feet away from me.

…As I neared the tellers I realized that I was carrying a handgun with me…

There was a painfully awkward moment when the crowd at the bank wasn’t sure what I was going to do and when I myself didn’t know what I was going to do. At just about that point I saw someone I knew in line. He was extremely angry at me. I guess we had gone to the bank together that day with the idea of robbing the bank but that now I was messing things up, he didn’t know if he could save the situation. I felt so clumsy and alone. There were guards and security cameras. I was going to jail forever.

Nightmare #140 – Extorted by my Fingertips

Posted on March 13, 2008 by admin

(Male, 30′s) This dream was very convoluted and crazy and parts were just so very sick and tawdry. I kept trying to do the smart thing but the situation just kept getting worse and worse. I was a college student and I was trying to fit in. There was a group that seemed very popular, not quite as organized as a fraternity, but perhaps more like a secret society. It was made up of at least 40 athletic guys and one very attractive brunette girl. They let me hang out with them for awhile but then, for no apparent reason, a half dozen of the guys beat me up, knocked me to the ground and kicked me until I couldn’t move. I think one of the guys peed on me when I was lying there nearly unconscious. They laughed and said it was part of the “hazing.” I wish the nightmare ended there but it just continued on and on.

…this secret society of thugs would do something simply horrible if they had that key…

I knew that this secret society of thugs would do something simply horrible if they had that key so I asked them for time to think about it. I used that time to gather together my family, my mother and father and our pet dogs (?) and get us all into a station wagon so we could flee. I didn’t know exactly how powerful this society was but I had reason to believe they could hurt my parents and it would be best if we just re-located to someplace far far away. This station wagon was a mess by the way, it barely ran at all. It was gray and dingy on the outside. I drove it down these heavily rutted gravel roads because I was trying to avoid the major roads that might have been watched.

As I turned a corner, the car flipped over into a ditch. There was another vehicle there, conveniently, a small red car. We piled out of the station wagon and started carrying our luggage over to the red car. It was clear we were going to have to leave many things behind, probably most of our things. Just then a big truck appeared with a dozen or so of the society thugs. I stopped loading up the car we were using to escape. I turned to face the truck as it pulled up and right then, I woke up.

Nightmare #138 – Convenience Store Robbery!

Posted on March 7, 2008 by The Grim Gnome

(Female, 20′s) – Maybe this isn’t exactly a nightmare but it was pretty exciting and I remember it vividly to this day even though I had this dream about ten years ago.

…There were many men, a whole carload full of them, all with guns…

I was riding in the car with my mother and we pulled into a convenience store to get some gas. We were getting ready to pump some gas when we looked over at the store and saw it was being robbed. There were many men, a whole carload full of them, all with guns. At that moment they saw us and started to pour out of the store. They ran right toward us. My mom said “Get back in the car.” But even when I got in the car, I wasn’t safe. The robbers started firing their guns at us. The bullets shot right through the windows and the doors of the car. My mother said “Get down” while she started the car and pulled out of the gas station. It was just like she was an action adventure heroine!

Nightmare #130 – Death and Disposal

Posted on February 15, 2008 by admin

(Female, 20′s) Last night I dreamt I killed someone, and then I did something worse. I lived in a tall house surrounded by farmland and someone had broken in. I fought with him at the top of a very tall circular staircase. Finally, I pushed him backward and he fell, over and over down the stairs, until he was dead.

“The dogs will know. The dogs will smell him and they’ll know.”

I was horrified by the thought I was now a murderer, that I had committed murder. I needed to get rid of the evidence so I dragged his heavy body to the bathroom and put him in the tub… where I proceeded to cut him up into pieces so I wouldn’t get blood everywhere — This gets a little grisly here — And then I figured that still there was too much blood left in these pieces so I put them in the oven, at least as much as would fit, and baked him until the pieces were dry. Then I sewed these parts into a scarecrow that I put out in the field, all the while thinking “The dogs will know. The dogs will smell him and they’ll know.” I still had to get rid of the rest of him. I figured I could take little pieces of him out to various parts of the farm and bury them where no one would ever find him.

Nightmare #129 – Beach Attack

Posted on February 14, 2008 by admin

(Female, early 30′s) This is a nightmare I remember from my childhood. My parents had rented a cottage in the Irish Hills, a resort area near where we lived where there were many lakes and woods.

…This strange little man took out a knife and he threw it at me…

In the dream I was down by a lake playing in the sand near the water when a taxi all of a sudden drives up, onto the beach and down to edge of the water. A man gets out, a weird little man with a big hat and a long overcoat. He was oddly mis-shaped too, overly round almost like that character Grimace from the McDonald’s commercials. This strange little man took out a knife and he threw it at me. I move fast enough that I duck out of the way. The knife whizzes past me, but it keeps going. It travels all the way around the world. In about 20 seconds, I looked up and the knife was flying at me again, this time too close to avoid.

Nightmare #120 – Celebrity Cop

Posted on January 24, 2008 by admin

(Male) I was a movie star and I was researching a new role. Since I was going to portray a policeman, I was riding along with some policemen in their car, just out on patrol. A call came in suddenly that there was an armed robbery taking place just a couple blocks from where we were. We had to respond. We pulled up in front of the bank along with several other police cars. There were apparently three robbers and they had taken some hostages. It was going to turn ugly. But then without thinking or asking anyone I started walking toward the bank. I was already in costume, that is, I was wearing a policeman’s uniform and I had a gun in my holster, a real gun with real bullets for some reason. Without asking anyone, I walked into the bank and said something like “Hey cut that out.” Then I smiled broadly with my movie star smile. The robbers recognized me immediately and let down their guard. They said “Hey it’s {whatever my name was} What are you doing here?” And I say “I’m doing research for my new movie and I saw some guys in here who might be fans of mine.”

And then I took my gun out of my holster and shot each of the men square in the chest – one, two, three – and then I shot them each again – one, two, three. The expression on their faces didn’t change. They didn’t understand what had happened. They just sort of melted down to the floor, dead. Situation resolved. When I woke up I was horrified at how cold and callous I had been, that’s the part that was a nightmare.

Nightmare #115 – The New Guy in Human Resources

Posted on January 14, 2008 by admin

(Male, middle aged) In the dream, I had just been hired to be the human resources guy at a moderately large firm, maybe 200 employees. I frankly wasn’t very sure of what the company did but I was desperate for a job and the place was quite prosperous. The offices were very modern looking with lots of common spaces and internal glass which gave the areas a feeling of open-ness and air-iness. My first task was to hire someone to produce the company newsletter, just a 4 page weekly publication, primarily aimed at employees. There were two candidates and I decided to interview them both at the same time. We went to one of the open conference rooms and by open, I mean that there was no door. The room opened directly out on a lounge area and beyond that there was a glassed in hallway. I chose this spot because it showed off the design philosophy of the building and, I thought, of the company. I started going back and forth between the two candidates, one who was a man in his 30′s and the other a woman in her 20′s. I would ask a question of one then ask it of the other, alternating as to who answered first. The man had more experience and was perhaps more reliable but the woman had more insight and creativity.

…I was terrified, as much of getting shot by the police as by being attacked by their prisoners…

I was trying to make up my mind which set of skills would be more important in this position when a flurry of activity in the glass hallway distracted me. A phallanx of heavily armed police wearing black armor and carrying what looked like electronic shotguns were leading a group of people who were dressed in grey-brown rags and who had their hands on top of their heads. As this strange parade turned the corner though, something must have have happened to spook the cops because they opened fire on their prisoners, shooting off round after round. The glass did not break even though it must have been repeated hit by these electronic bullets. I was terrified, as much of getting shot by the police as by being attacked by their prisoners who must have been very dangerous to be treated like that and who must be very desperate. I hid as best I could under the table. The interviewees couldn’t seem to understand my response. “Don’t you see that they have everything under control?” Then the interviewees started talking between themselves about me. It was then that I realized the whole thing, the parade, the revolt even the interviews themselves had been some kind of test that the company was putting me through. I had failed the test.

Nightmare #114 – Contraband in a Deadly Wrapper

Posted on January 11, 2008 by admin

(Male, 40′s) A friend of mine was performing in a play that was being staged in someone’s living room. There must have been 30 people in the “audience” sitting on couchs or chairs or standing. I was in the kitchen and was able to watch the play through the doorway. I started making myself some tea when the front door is kicked in and probably two dozen policemen pour in all dressed in riot gear. They forcibly subdue everyone, and I mean everyone, from the people sitting on chairs to the actors on stage. I drop to the floor and roll myself under a shelf full of cookbooks to a place where it’s highly unlikely anyone would see me. I can overhear what’s going on and watch a bit of it. Once about half the people have been dragged out of the room, bleeding and unconscious and in shackles, there’s a team of policemen who begin scouring the house looking for something.

“It’s in the couch.” I hear one of the policemen tell the sergeant. “But it seems to be wrapped in animal hides.” The police start tearing the couch apart and sure enough there appears to be a large trunk, like a foot locker that is wrapped in what looks like the pelts from male lions, complete with shaggy manes. But these pelts also still have their paws and claws.

There are six of these skins draped over the box. The police suspect a trap and they are right to. What appear to be skins are actually werewolves that have been hibernating during the journey while the package was being shipped. Now they are exposed to light and the noise and commotion of the police action, the top werewolf comes to life. It growls and actually inflates itself with breath while it snarls and howls. As the police begin to fire on the werewolf that is fully re-animated, the next werewolf on the pile begins to stir. It is clear that the police weapons are going to be totally ineffective as they begin to be torn apart by the monsters that rise from the pile, one after another. The lucky audience members were the ones who were beaten and dragged off first. I cowered in my hiding spot, hoping that the werewolves would be too busy with the police and with securing their cargo and wouldn’t pay attention to me.

Movies: Potato Head Psycho

Posted on November 24, 2007 by admin

This is just dumb-dumb-dumb but kind of fun anyway. True film-snobs will note that it’s only a paraphrase of the original and not a shot for shot remake which could be an interesting “finger exercise” for would-be filmmakers. Just imagine how many different ways this iconic scene could be re-envisioned while keeping the same editing pattern, possibly even the same soundtrack: an unsuspecting shrub that gets pruned, blissfully unaware mise-en-place that gets shredded into mire-poix, etc. Incidentally, if you actually try any of these variants, let me know and I’ll post them as well.

But now, on to this installment of Friday Night Movies:

Nightmare #89 Murder Art

Posted on October 2, 2007 by admin

I was walking through a suburb very much like the one where I grew up except at the edge of a cluster of houses instead of a woods, there was a wide expanse of water, possibly an ocean, possibly just a Great Lake. Leading up to the water was a long flat sandy beach and on this beach were houses just like those of the suburb though much farther apart. From one of the houses, I heard cries, then screams. Someone was being beaten, then murdered. I recognized the assailants but since there were three of them and only one of me I didn’t intervene.

Later, I was at a small bookstore, so small it was the living room of a house. They were having an art exhibit and when I looked at the names of the artists, I recognized them as the three young men who had killed that person. Evidently everyone seemed to know that they were guilty, but that no one seemed to care too much beyond the fame it brought them. The artworks weren’t extremely compelling, though they used some materials in slightly novel ways. One of the artists for instance seemed to paint with melted wax crayon and to paint inside old cooking pans. Interesting perhaps but his brushwork and composition were barely competent. The bookstore owner noticed my attention and said the artists themselves would be stopping by later. It was as if he didn’t know how dangerous these young men were. I was afraid and I left.

I was walking home from the exhibit, angry and scared, through the suburb I grew up in, in fact just a block or two from the house where I lived. I passed a liquor store and two men started following me. They were twins, slender, brown-grey, in ragged suits with crumpled hats. They talked as if they were drunk, or more precisely as if they were pretending to be drunk. They were following me rather closely. I tried to let the pass but they jumped me instead. One held me while the other kicked and hit me. It wasn’t like they wanted to rob me, just to beat me to death. I struggled and broke free but they chased me. I ran up to the house of a neighbor. Oddly enough, I didn’t try to run to the house where I once had lived. No one came to the door. I woke when the men reached the porch where I was standing.

Nightmare #62 – The Stalker

Posted on May 30, 2007 by admin

(Male, middle-aged) I kept dreaming this dream all night though I woke up a half dozen times. The sense of outrage, of powerlessness still stick with me.

My sister in law came to stay with us for a little while because she was being stalked by one of her customers. The police knew everything about this guy including where he lived, what he did. My sister in law even was shown pictures of him. The stalker had been placed under house arrest and was given one of those electronic tethers, but he had escaped from them before. Furthermore, the stalker had even killed a couple other people — his previous stalking targets — but for the most part everyone was treating him like he was relatively harmless. Not entirely harmless — my sister in law was encouraged to leave town until he lost interest in her — but the stalker also had some kind of special skill or profession that made people overlook his “faults.” He was a surgeon or something, though I shudder to think of him operating on someone I love.

I felt pretty sure that I could protect her, even though I’m not strong or skilled with a weapon. I resolved that as soon as I saw the stalker, I would just have to kill him before he could take advantage of the situation. Somehow, just having that attitude was going to keep everyone safe. I figured I could kill him in a fight and no one would care.

One afternoon, my wife and her sister actually were gone shopping and I was at home with several people — our plan was to have lots of people awake and paying attention at all times so we wouldn’t be caught off guard. A couple of young children knocked on the door I went to the door but I knew it was him. I went out on the porch and closed the door behind me. I recognized him from his photos. He was very tall and very muscular and had short blond hair. When he turned to face me, he flicked a lit cigarette at my face.

“You’re a little jumpy,” He said.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“So she’s here”

“You’re not supposed to be out of your house. Your cage.”

I yelled in the screen window for the others to call 911. We started to fight, to grapple, to wrestle. He was much stronger than me, much taller than me. I kept calling for 911. I don’t know if anyone did. My plan now was to keep him busy until the police arrived. He wrapped one arm around me, pinning my arms to my sides. With the thumb of his other hand, he started pushing on my teeth like he was trying to crack them off into my throat.

I awoke face down in my pillow.

Nightmare #52 – A Little Violence among Friends

Posted on May 9, 2007 by admin

(Male, mid 20′s) The wife of one of my wife’s friends shows up at our door. She says she has just left her husband and that she needs a place to hide. She’s afraid her husband might be violent. We let her in.

..She’s afraid her husband might be violent…

Before long her husband appears and he is angry. He tries to attack his wife but she runs away from him. Then he is angry at my wife and I for letting his wife hide in our house. He takes a poker from the fireplace and chases us around in a homicidal frenzy. Then he threatens my infant daughter — and without a thought I rip the weapon away from him and beat him over and over with it. Before I know it, this longtime friend of ours, someone who would eat dinner at our table, lies dead at my feet, bloody, broken, crushed by my hand. It was terrifying how easy it was.

Nightmare #43 – A Murderous Creature

Posted on April 20, 2007 by The Grim Gnome

(Female, teen) So maybe a lot of this comes from an episode of Alias I watched just before going to sleep but I still woke up too scared to roll over in bed. I was a spy on a mission. I was to go to somebody’s house and talk to a man who was involved with computers. When I rang the doorbell, the man’s wife and son came to the door and I met them first. The little boy went off to play and the wife showed me in to where the husband was. We talked for awhile about computers then I left.

…The creature sort of looked human…

But I could still see inside the house. I could see the room where the kid was playing. All of a sudden, a creature came into the room. The creature sort of looked human except it was bald and extremely muscular. But the muscles didn’t look like real muscles rather more like tumors just underneath the skin. It had tumors on its face as well. One eye was swollen completely shut and it had bright red bloody lips. The creature stepped right up to the boy and effortlessly ripped his arm off. Then it ripped off the boy’s other arm and then both his legs. Finally the creature opened the child’s rib cage. The boy was dead. It had only taken a couple seconds.

The dad rushed into the room and the creature attacked him too. It ripped off the man’s arms. Just as the creature started attacking the man’s face, I woke up.

Nightmare #41 – Night Boat to Nowhere

Posted on April 16, 2007 by The Grim Gnome

(Male, 40′s) I was on a personal pilgrimage to see the Southern Cross (a constellation that only can be seen in the southern hemisphere) and I was in some strange port of call. There were tiny, winding streets. I couldn’t speak the language and furthermore, I couldn’t even identify what KIND of language it was. There were small open-air shops selling all sorts of things, all packed one against the other. I was hungry but I couldn’t even discern what was food. I was also dragging along an immense suitcase made of soft brown leather. The suitcase had straps like an old-fashioned suitcases. It wasn’t very heavy but it was quite awkward to get through the crowded streets.

…Very soon I started to think it was the wrong ship. In fact, it felt dangerously wrong…

Finally after a long wait, I boarded a ship. Very soon I started to think it was the wrong ship. In fact, it felt dangerously wrong. First of all, no one other than the crew were allowed below deck so the deck was crowded with people all carrying luggage. But then it became evident that there there was a particular family on deck that everyone else seemed to be consolidated against. The family — a mother, father, two children and a grandmother — didn’t seem to notice the glares, the staring, the random shoving and malicious elbows. No one else other than this family were being jostled so consistently, so violently. I also noticed that others in this crowd were taking notice of me, concerned that I might be a witness to what was about to happen. The ship moved very very slowly. We had barely left port. It had turned night but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the crowd to look up at the stars. The ocean was an inky black. The crowd pushed the grandmother to the ground. Still the family didn’t realize they were in danger. I couldn’t warn them because I didn’t know the language and even if I could, I’d just be putting myself in danger too. But I was already in danger and it wouldn’t get any better once we reached the open sea. So before we had entirely left the bay, I grabbed my suitcase, which I somehow knew would float, and I jumped overboard into the black, black water.

Nightmare #35 – The Grown-Up Bully

Posted on March 28, 2007 by The Grim Gnome

(Male) I was standing among a cluster of adults watching a group of young people flying paper airplanes. One of these kids had made a highly experimental looking design that sort of looked like a double-ended spoon or maybe like a propeller. One of the adult males looked down at this kid and said “That’ll never work, kid. Give up now.” I said “Let him try it. Maybe he can get it to work.” Then this guy, the adult, turned around with two of his buddies and stared at me. He became immense. He reached out and wrapped one of his hands around my throat. The other hand he grabbed my crotch like he was going to crush my balls. He lifted me off the ground and then he clamped his teeth onto my nose like he was going to bite it off. I did not back down. I said “Only a weak man counters a verbal threat with physical violence.” He held me there while his friends looked on. Still I didn’t back down or beg to be released.

Next thing I knew, everyone had vanished, the bully, his buddies, the paper airplane throwers. I was alone.

Nightmare #27 – Killer of Families; Family of Killers

Posted on March 17, 2007 by The Grim Gnome

(Male, 44) I had this dream just last night so it’s still fresh in my mind. I’m still trying to get over it. I hope it’s not too extreme.

…I hope it’s not too extreme…

The situation is that there was sort of a Manson family sort of group holed up in this house. Except it was a real family, like they had kids too but they were also murderers who would invade someone’s house and butcher them. I saw the dream from several different perspectives, all pretty much at the same time, which was also weird.

From one perspective I’m one of the SWAT team who shows up to bring this group down. There are probably a dozen of us, each with a rifle and a site — a sniper’s set up — but what’s strange is that we’re right up by the porch of the house, probably 4 feet away from the family who’s just on the other side of some windows. It seems pretty clear to me at least that we are way too close to this situation for the weapons we’re carrying. In the dream this was my first time out as a SWAT member and I was crouching low, trying to get a good clear shot but there was too much reflection off the glass for me to risk anything.

Another perspective I had was inside the room with the mother and father and their kids. They had at least two kids, a boy and a girl, both probably 5 or 6. The place was a mess. They had ransacked the whole house and brought anything that looking interesting down to the living room and put it in a big pile. Also in that pile were bloody, lifeless arms and hands of the people they killed, thoughtlessly, casually. The mother and father knew that their bloody spree was up so the each pulled out a huge hunting knife. The father killed the son, just sliced into his throat so deeply he almost cut it off. Blood went everywhere. And almost immediately, the father threw up, a bright green vomit. (Did I mention this was pretty extreme?) And almost immediately, the mother did the exact thing to the daughter and then vomited as well. Somehow the vomiting meant that the parents loved their kids and regretted having to kill them.

And the third perspective was that I was a little kid, probably 5 or 6. I don’t think I was a member of the killer family; I think I was a member of the family whose house the killer family invaded. I was hiding. I had been hiding throughout most of what was happening. At the end, I found a telephone pole in the backyard and wrapped my arms and legs around it and sort of inchwormed my way to the very top so nobody would see me and I wouldn’t get killed accidentally or on purpose by anyone. I looked out over the neighborhood. The trees were a mass of leafless twigs sort of like steel wool. The house looked much bigger than it did on the ground. I just held onto the pole and waited. Eventually everything turned brown like in an old, sepia toned photograph which somehow meant that all the killing was over and that it was time for me to come down. It was time for the funeral for my family. Someone handed me a small silver tray that had six items on it. They were supposed to represent the other members of my family who I had lost. I started crying in the dream and the items started falling off the tray. When I woke up, I was still crying.

Nightmare #9 – My Brother’s Wicked Imposter

Posted on February 17, 2007 by The Grim Gnome

(Female, a dream from childhood) I dreamt I was in the basement of my family’s house in the laundry room. There was a big pantry cupboard and a spare kitchen set up there, and I was down there with my mom, my sister who was older, and my younger brother.

…We were trapped and we were scared…

My older brother was there too, but he was being unusually mean and cruel. He knocked my younger brother down and yelled at all of us. We were trapped and we were scared. Suddenly, my older brother walked into the room. We were startled because we thought he was already there with us. Then we realized that the other older brother was a fake.

But now my real brother had to fight this fake brother to save us. He violently attacked the fake brother and wrestled him down to the tile floor right at our feet and they thrashed around in that small space until one of them beat the other one bloody and senseless while the whole family watched.