Tag: families

Nightmare #357: Awful knowledge

Post author By Elsa L
Post date June 10, 2014

Fairfield Cemetery, Monkton, Ayrshire. Photo by Rosser1954 Roger Griffith. Used under the Creative Commons License.

(Female, 50’s) I had a dream so awful last night that I haven’t been able to think or talk about it without crying, but you asked me to write it down so here goes. The dream was about carrying around some awful knowledge.

I dreamed that my daughter died. She’s grown now and living quite far away. She had some health issues as a child, and in my dream she was very sick again, but none of us knew it. I don’t think she knew it either. And she died. I got a phone call that she was dead.

But we were in the middle of some big, stressful event. I don’t know what exactly, but it was some happening, some convention or presentation that we were preparing for and needed to accomplish.

So I didn’t tell anyone that she had died yet– because knowing didn’t matter. There was nothing that could be done, so I had to wait with my knowledge. I felt very sad and very lonely.

And I knew that I had a lot to do too, but I wasn’t ready to deal with that. I had to make arrangements to get her body home and make plans for what– a memorial? a funeral? I didn’t know. We’d never talked or made plans with her because it hadn’t occurred to me that she could die.

So I was leaving the house and I ran into a neighbor. The dream neighbor was not a real person, sort of a conglomeration of people I know. She was a stocky woman with two little girls running around while we were talking in the front yards. She asked me how I was doing and I had to lie and say fine. Then she asked about my daughter and how she was. Her girls were always talking about my daughter, they enjoyed her company so much and they missed her. Again, I had to lie and say she was fine. I had no idea how to keep going.

Tags death, families, secret

Nightmares

Nightmare #351: Bad Dad versus Good Dad

Post author By Elsa L
Post date April 22, 2014

(Female 50’s) This dream is so obviously rooted in television sit-com culture of the 1960’s, like Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, and Gilligan’s Island— as are many of my childhood experiences. Now that I think about it, a lot of those shows had brain-switching, or identity confusion, or evil twins as a regular plot twist. It’s no wonder that my nightmare involved having two dads: a good dad and a bad dad.

In my dream, no one believed at first that there were two versions of my dad running around. My older brother tried to warn us. He pointed to the “fake” Dad and said, “That’s not our father! He’s an impostor!” We all thought that was ridiculous and laughed at him. Even Dad– although it was kind of an evil laugh.

The another Dad walked in our house. The Dads stood looking at each other. They both said, “Who are you?” and “He’s the fake!”, pointing at each other. My mom, sister, younger brother and I just looked back and forth. They were identical; we couldn’t tell them apart. Which was the real Dad?

Then my older brother said, “It’s him! He’s the fake one!” and he pointed at the person he claimed all along was the fake dad. Then the fake dad got really angry and attacked my brother. He tried to strangle him by putting his hands around my brother’s neck. My brother fought back and then Dad jumped in too. They beat the fake “dad” and I think they killed him.

Tags evil twin, families, twin

Movies

Movie: “The Woman”

Post author By Elsa L
Post date April 17, 2014

Be prepared for a unsettlingly creepy and weirdly gory viewing with The Woman (Bloody Disgusting Selects), directed by Lucky McKee, based on a book by Jack Ketchum and Lucky McKee, also titled The Woman. If you expect to be surprised, you’ll be in a good position for watching this seemlingly straight-forward story about a family that takes in a feral woman.

The Netflix description had setup certain expectations for me which the movie destroyed coming out of the gate. The description on the envelope claimed we would watch the family breakdown as they attempted to “civilize” a feral woman, but from the first scene the family dynamics alone sent a shiver down my throat.

A sticky, icky candy-coating shines right from the scene where the family are guests at a barbeque. From his perch on the deck, the father gazes out at his miserable and uncomfortable teenage daughter and scolds his wife. Around the corner, the adolescent son practices free throws, while ignoring a group of boys tormenting a little girl. You can’t put a finger on it yet, but there’s something wrong in this house.

The action gets rolling when the father finds a wild woman living in the woods. He immediately prepares for her capture by putting the family to work on clearing an outbuilding, a project which they all undertake immediately and without question. Back in the woods, he traps the woman, knocks her out, and then takes her to the building and restrains her. He enlists his family in the project of helping “fix” her.

Ultimately, “The Woman” is a film that’s as much about power as it is about horror. The movie delivers both the gore and violence one expects from a horror film, but it packs the emotional punch of a well-rendered drama as it explores the power inequalities within the family and between the sexes. Don’t be surprised if certain dialogues make you cringe just as much as the scenes of bit-off appendages or torn-off skin. Like with any good film, expect the ideas in the movie haunt you in the days that follow.

Tags animal attacks, animals, families, movie

Doktor Movies

Indie Horror Movie “FOUND” Finds Distribution

Post author By Doktor Leech
Post date February 28, 2014

Fangoria Magazine announced that Scott Schirmer’s award winning feature “Found” will receive distribution by The October People and that makes me smile a broad, toothy grin. Elsa and I watched “Found” at the IndieHorror.TV First Anniversary Party, and I’m looking forward to seeing it again.

Found presents the best qualities of independent horror, including a smart, self-aware storyline that examines real-life anxieties while ratcheting up the stakes with some well-motivated gore. Why aren’t there more horror movies that critically examine the effects of horror movies as insightfully as Found? Fans of the genre will appreciate the nod to VHS video nasties of yesteryear while civilians will appreciate a coming-of-age tale depicted at that tender moment when an overly curious boy learns the horror and the power of brutality in everyday life. I could quibble about, maybe, some over-exposed backgrounds in the print I saw but there was evidence of well-considered shot composition and cinematography throughout, qualities all too often over-looked in low budget cinema. Found isn’t dumbed-down to a test-market perfect blandness which means there are some sharp edges that will chaff some viewers. For instance, the film seems to thematize race in a way I didn’t quite understand — maybe it’ll be clear on a second viewing — but I appreciated seeing a couple non-white faces…even if their heads eventually appeared in the bowling ball bag. It’s a gutsy, nearly reckless choice to cast youngsters in important roles (Proof text: Anakin Skywalker) but the lead actors of Found pull off the challenge of making sometimes extreme interactions feel normal. I could totally believe these two young men were brothers.

The digital revolution has allowed nearly every bozo with a cellphone to make their own horror movie– including me. If you’ve seen a schlocky home-made slasher and think that represents independent horror, please track down a copy of “Found.” This new distribution deal with The October People makes that search just a bit easier.

Tags families, killers, movies, serial killers

Movies

Movie: “Mamá”

Post author By Doktor Leech
Post date December 29, 2012

A feature length adaptation of this tasty short — courtesy of one Guillermo del Toro — is popping later in January. But the integrity and craft of this original short is exactly the kind of thing we love here at the DailyNightmare.

Dig it!

Tags families, movie

Book Christmas

My Xmas Haul – 2012

Christmas is simply a horrible time of the year for me personally, emotionally, even existentially. I survived this one by seeking solace underground to daub some paint and tinker with tools, emerging just long enough to behave monstrously. The expectations of Holiday Cheer plus the often disturbingly close proximity of loved ones rankles this mysanthropic recluse.

But the holiday was not without its joys. Like last year, a still life of the gifts I received is an apt portrait at least of whom others imagine I am. My young ones are scattered abroad so all items are imported, as fitting a horror snob. From the Great White North come a set of skull shot glasses is posed here with last year’s crystal skull of vodka and a couple creepy novels — Silver by Rhiannon Held and Something Red: A Novel by Douglas Nicholas, likely purchased at Toronto’s justly famous Bakka bookstore. My son’s family have moved temporarily to Poland so I also received a spectacular Polish language art book about Bruno Schultz and his contemporaries — the nightmarish images need little translation — and a pin-up calendar from Lindner, a Polish coffin manufacturer. Yup, sex and death, like chocolate and peanut butter, two great preoccupations that taste great together. Its imagery is NSFW so I only show the cover. I suspect it tells too much about me if I admit I am more interested in the intricate carvings on these hand-made corpse-carriers than I am in the air-brushed beauties draped across them. An unexpected bonus was the casket shaped keychain that accompanied the calendar.

All of us at the DailyNightmare hope your holidays passed with minimal bloodshed and maximal blessing.

Tags books, Christmas, families, Xmas

Nightmares

Nightmare #326 – Deluxe Body Bag

Post author By The Grim Gnome
Post date December 9, 2012

(Male, 50s’) My dad has been gone for over 20 years so I only rarely dream about him but last night, I woke in a cold sweat.

Dad was dead and we had called the company that was going to bury him. We were waiting outside of large building on the sideway. Dad’s body was just lying there on the grass, still in a hospital gown.

A van pulled up and a professionally dressed woman got out. “First I want to congratulate you on your loss.” she said it very matter-of-fact, as if by rote, but it struck me as odd she said “congratulate” instead of “condolence.” But she continued talking her set spiel about how her company would take the best care of Dad. Before I knew it, she had Dad’s body in a body bag. The bag was made of extremely thick black plastic. It reminded me of Kevlar. Before she zipped it up, the woman put a laptop computer in the bag on top of Dad’s torso. “The computer lets your loved one know you cared about them up until the last minute.” She sealed the bag with an air of finality.

“Now, for a small extra charge we can escort your loved one to the van on a rolling cart.” She had already brought out this low wooden cart. I almost agreed but I asked how much the “small extra charge” would be. The woman replied that the cart would cost $150 and it would show everyone how much I cared. I was confused. Why would I spend that much money to have them used a cart to carry my dad’s body less than 20 feet?

I told her that I didn’t believe this was my father any more, just a shell he’d left behind and that I’d rather spend the money on booze for a party I would hold in his honor. Very well, the woman said.

And at that moment, the body in the bag started kicking. It was subtle at first, the legs just curled at the knees. But then the whole body started convulsing. I looked at the woman in case something like this was normal but the expression on her face said it clearly wasn’t.

“Is he still alive in there?” I asked.

The woman nodded but she stood as if paralyzed in fear.

“Then help me get him out.”

“That’s not possible. Those bags are completely sealed. They’re guaranteed.”

I knelt down by my dad’s body. He was thrashing around. Somehow I was then able to see through the heavy plastic fabric of the bag. His eyes were open. He was gasping for breath. But in addition to having limited oxygen in that sealed bag, it was filling up with liquid. He would drown in his own juices within moments.

“Get him out or I will sue you and your company into non-existence.” The woman clutched her clipboard and contorted her face but did nothing to help my father as he died, a second time lying there on the sidewalk.

Tags death, families, funerals, trapped

Nightmares

Nightmare #331 – The Invaders’ Barbecue

Post author By The Grim Gnome
Post date August 5, 2012

(Male, 40’s) I woke with oily puddles of half evaporated tears in my eyes this morning. Horrible dreams about my mother, where she was still alive, where people were having a barbecue on her back lawn, neighbors encroaching on her space like she wasn’t even there. They were using her grill and had pulled another one in as well. Hundreds of invaders. I went over to speak to them. The chief instigator looked like that actor, that guy who played a thug in Dazed and Confused. He offered me a joint. I tried to look cool, to be cool. He assured me he’d got an OK from “the old lady.”

I retreated still agitated. Mom in the dream had a dog, a small shaggy poodle. Wherever it went, the carpet changed from blue to brown, like it was changing the territory to places that belonged to Mom. It strayed into my house — in the dream, I lived next door to my mom. My carpet turned brown, square by square. I went over to talk with Mom. She started complaining about how I hadn’t put a proper tombstone on her grave. I didn’t know what she was talking about for the longest time. I hugged her hard, wrapping my arms around her like I didn’t do enough of in life. She was small and frail. She wore a faded pink housecoat. I told her I was sorry. She didn’t seem to hug me back, she seemed pre-occupied as if I’d caught her in the midst of doing something else. Eventually, I realized what she was talking about with the tombstone and I started weeping. I was still crying when I woke up this morning, early, long before sunrise.

Tags creepy houses, families, house

Nightmares

Nightmare #333 – Celebrity Eviction

Post author By The Grim Gnome
Post date August 3, 2012

(Male, 40’s) About a year ago, I moved back to my hometown to take care of my aging parents. In the dream, I come back to their house to find none other than Kanye West digging up the bushes in the front yard. Every now and then, he’d stop and consult a landscape designer then he’d go back to digging. When I asked what the heck he was doing, Kanye explained that my folks had sold him the house. My parents were nowhere to be seen. I asked if I could at least get my stuff out of the house and he flatly refused. He said I’d have to leave.

I was pretty bummed at losing all my memorabilia but the kicker was when he said “And what were you thinking with these bushes? I mean, really?”

Tags families, house

Nightmares

Nightmare #314 – Fires for the Dead

Post author By The Grim Gnome
Post date April 11, 2012

(Male, 30’s) This wasn’t really a nightmare that is it wasn’t a scary dream, that is, I wasn’t scared so much when I was actually IN the dream but once I woke up and started to think about it, it started to creep me out more and more.

I was on a farm, a very familiar place, a farm my aunt and uncle own. And I was gathering firewood. Twigs and large branches, just everything I could find. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around or at least if there were, no one else seemed interested in the bonfire I was going to start and that was fine. I had acquired a pretty impressive stack of fuel, almost as tall as I am and easily 10 or 15 feet in diameter. It was going to be a righteous blaze.

I was getting ready to light the fire when I saw someone I grew up with. She was a friend of the family someone I’ve only partially kept in touch with over the years. She mentioned in passing that she’d had a seance recently and called up the spirits of her mother and my long dead father. I was struck by a wave of what I can only call jealousy. I’ve been going through some rather hard times recently and even at my worst I didn’t think about troubling my dead father for advice or companionship. It seemed offensive that she’d just summon up my dead relatives, basically for fun.

And then it got weird. Or maybe I should say, weirder. Around that time, I realized that I wasn’t speaking with this friend of the family anymore. Maybe I never had been. I was speaking with my mother who also is dead. It wasn’t clear if she had been summoned in the seance, that is, that I had gotten it mixed up who the friend of the family had called up, or whether Mom had just come along on her own or whether I had been speaking to my mother all along. She seemed so distant and mournfull I got really cold and wished I’d started the fire but it seemed so far away. I still had matches in my hands but I forgot how to use them to make fire.

I woke up thinking about what it would be like for someone who was dead to have a seance to summon someone else who was dead. I got creeped out by the thought that maybe in death we’re all separate, alone and that for some folks that would be incredibly difficult.

Tags country, death, families, fire, ghosts

Nightmares

Nightmare #307 – Trapped in Reality TV

Post author By The Grim Gnome
Post date October 28, 2011

(Female, 50’s) I had slept in because it was the weekend and I remember that when I woke up I had a horrible headache likely because my brain was caffeine starved.

I was in one of those surprise remodel TV shows. It seems like my whole family had gotten together to redo our kitchen. My husband and I have been remodeling the kitchen bit by bit improving it whenever possible for several years now. So the buildup to the big reveal comes… and the remodeled kitchen is just horrible.

It was worse than horrible; it’s a collection of everything dreadful that we’d ever gotten rid of dating back from just about every kitchen throughout our marriage. The fridge is this old white model — we finally upgraded to one with a nice stainless steel front. The cupboard were from our old condo. And they had the door handles right in the middle of the doors, which is a silly place for handles. There were dishes out on open air shelves which I hate because they just collect dust. It was horrible.

And everyone was standing around looking so pleased with themselves for what they accomplished. They handed me a bottle of wine and I was so upset I smashed it against the table.

And I woke up!

Tags creepy houses, families, house, party

Nightmares

Nightmare #305 – Father Stabber

Post author By The Grim Gnome
Post date July 29, 2011

(Male, 30’s) Before I start I feel like I have to say that my relationship with my father, now dearly departed, was always friendly and never came to attempted murder and bloodshed.

So imagine my surprise with this nightmare. My wife and I were visiting my father at what must have been his apartment. It was the first floor of a house on a quiet residential street. We were sitting down to have tea and some kind of cake in the dining room. There was a bay window with many tiny panes of glass. My wife sat down in her chair, took a couple sips of tea and abruptly passed out. “It was a long drive to get here,” I tried to explain to my father. He encouraged me to have some of the tea as well while he stood over the tea cake, brandishing a huge chef’s knife. He seemed agitated and was quite insistent. I mimed sipping some tea. He relaxed his grip on the knife but he didn’t drink any tea. Clearly it was poisoned. He cut me a piece of cake which I tasted, then he put the knife down on the table.

I leaped up from my chair and grabbed the knife. But I was already feeling dizzy. Evidently the cake had been poisoned too! I took the knife and I plunged it into my father’s belly. The blade only penetrated an inch or so, hardly enough to get past the belly fat and damage any essential organs. I dropped the knife and ran… actually I stumbled away. I considered trying to use his telephone… and as I write this down, I realize that it was one of those old style rotary phones like we had when I was a kid. I figured he could cut the phone’s cord before the call went through. I continued making my way toward the front door. I braced myself against furniture that crashed down behind me. Fortunately, the wreckage of furniture slowed my father’s pursuit. I had nearly reached the front door when I woke up.

Tags families, father, murder, poisoned, stabbed, trapped

Nightmares

Nightmare #303 – My Gothic Vacation

Post author By The Grim Gnome
Post date May 18, 2011

(Male, 40’s) This was one of those dreams that starts off so real then goes straight into craziness. I was sleeping next to my wife — as I must have been when I was having this dream — and in the dream I was cold and uncomfortable — again as I was while I was sleeping. So I roll over and try to get comfortable and I realize that we’re trying to sleep on this pretty narrow stone pew. It’s wide for a pew but far too narrow for a bed. And I look around the room which is dark. I can only make out the outlines of the windows which all have pointed gothic arches… and I remember that we’re on vacation somewhere in Europe and we’re staying in a castle.

And I wonder if the castle is haunted.

I am not going to be able to sleep any more so I get up and start poking around the place. There are no light switches or candles but my eyes gradually get adjusted to the dark. I met a friend in the next room and he was getting his shoes on. We must have gone on vacation with this other couple. He spoke on and on about all the places we’ll have to go to and somewhere in the middle of his monologue I realize that I don’t really like him all that much. It’s funny how one can have friends that you don’t really like.

Then I’m distracted by something in the next room. It’s another friend of mine. She’s sitting in the middle of the room weeping. I go over to comfort her and when I get there she is a child. A baby. Smaller than a baby. A fetus. A doll. I pick her up in my hands and she’s smaller than the breadth of my two palms. Her arms are fastened behind her back with a rubber band. I remove the rubber band and she stops crying. She asked for some food. I looked over at a table that had a white lace cloth on it and silver candelabras. It was set out for breakfast but I didn’t know what this child-thing could eat.

Underneath the table, I could see a large dog-like creature. It was moving so fast, it appeared to flash in and out of existence in different places. It was dangerous. I didn’t want to get close to the table. Then it appeared behind me. I recognized it as actually someone I knew, sort of. He was larger and had a line of spikes down his back. His shirt or maybe it was his skin was a thick brown leather like a lizard. He ran at me. I braced for impact and as he hit me, the force knocked him over. He fell to the ground, stunned then he scuttled off.

A phone rang. I went into another room to answer it. I was now entirely out of the castle because this felt like the front room of yet another friend. The phone was an old style phone and it sat on top of an old TV. I answered it. It was my mother who has been dead for years. When she was alive she would talk on the phone for hours, frantic about one thing or another. This time in the dream she was worried about two life insurance policies she had. What should she do with them? How should they show up on her income taxes. They amounted to $4,732 – that number was very precise in the dream. I told her she should just sign them over to me and I’d worry about them. Then I swelled up with such anxiety I had to put the phone down and walk away. I haven’t felt that anxious since my mother died, in fact. I came back to the phone and she was still talking. I told her I didn’t hear that last part. She asked why. I told her. She asked why I had set the phone down. “Why? Why? Why?” Over and over. Finally I simply hung up on her.

Tags families, family traumas, friend, friends

Nightmares

Nightmare #301 – Dear Dead Dad

Post author By The Grim Gnome
Post date January 10, 2011

(Male, 50’s) I dreamt about my dad last night. He’s been dead for over twenty years. I was cleaning in his basement which was a mess when he died. Crap everywhere. All sorts of stuff. Half finished projects, materials to do other jobs around the house, papers spilling out of filing cabinets and a far amount of crap I had no idea what the hell it was. By the way, this is pretty true to what happened when he died. His basement work area was a mess and it took me an awfully long time to clean it up and get the house sold. But I suppose if anyone dies unexpectedly there’s going to be a lot of unfinished business. In the dream I moved a piece of furniture in the basement and I found a doorway in the floor. I never knew THAT was there, I remember thinking in the dream. It was just big enough for me to crawl through. There was another basement underneath the first one. It was a mess too, though just a bit more organized perhaps. Maybe like an over stocked thrift store.

But the weirdest thing was that my dad was there. He was the same age as he was when he died. He was wearing a white t-shirt and work pants. He’d been down there the whole time, I figured. It would take some getting used to, him being alive again. I’d have to introduce him to folks. We didn’t exactly have a bad relationship but we didn’t always get along. I don’t think it was his fault or my fault. We just didn’t get along as well as we could have. He was kind of surprised to see me and not exactly happy either. I was interrupting. I didn’t really want to tell him I’d been clearing out his workshop in the upper basement but he figured out anyway. He was more than irritated. He was angry about what had happened since he died, about how I’d tried to clear his stuff out of the basement.

Next thing I know, he’s got my brother in a death hold, like he’s trying to kill him. A couple things strange with this picture. My old man was NEVER violent. He was always calm and gentle. Very peaceful, really. A real gentleman. But the guy in my dream was murderous and enraged. He was physically destroying my brother, wrestling with him, battering him. And the other strange thing is that I don’t have a brother. Never did. I knew I had to save this guy, this “brother,” so I looked around for something I could use. I found a long bread knife and a sledge hammer. And I hit my dad with the hammer. Only I don’t hit him with the head of the hammer. I use the handle of the hammer which is hardly effective.

Then things get really weird. I tell my dad to relax and imagine all the pieces of paper that were written about him during his entire life. Every document, every record, every report card, every bill, every bank statement, every love letter. Then add to that pile every piece of paper he read or even looked at. Every magazine, every book, every porno picture, every postcard. It would be a huge pile but it still would be a finite amount. Then I told him to imagine selecting out only the most important pages, the ones that really “got” him, whether they were good or bad. Imagine someone who loved him saved all the pages that described him in a favorable light, but that that collection of pages got lost. All that remained was the collection of pages that described his unfavorable characteristics. I told him not to worry. No one who found that other collection of pages, those bad descriptions, no one who found those pages would ever think that they fully described him. They’d know there were good things that weren’t mentioned.

Then I woke up. Strangest thing.