Tag: health problems

Categories
Doktor Movies

Winner of First Annual “Impy” for Short Form Cinematic Horror: “Other”

gallery_promotionalmaterial_thumbnail_01Let the joyous news be spread: “Other” by Daniel Delpurgatorio takes home the first annual “Impy,” the DailyNightmare prize for Midwest Snob Horror selected from short films screened at Three Corpse Circus. The 9″ award statue and CASH prize are on their way to the director in loving appreciation of this gem. Competition was stiff and we’ll laud other entries in coming days but for the moment, let all the glory rest on “Other.”

How do we love “Other?” Let us count the ways:

“Other” probes the under-expoited subgenre of body horror, with themes made particularly relevant by current health care debates in the US. A maverick doctor, Patrick, is struck with a terminal condition which provokes radical and risky procedures for self-medication with unintended consequences. “Other” weighs in a just 15 minutes long but we wouldn’t have wished it a moment longer. The piece recalls favorable memories of Cronenberg, especially The Fly and Aronofsky, especially Pi.

The mood of “Other” is controlled and consistent featuring an ambience that felt cramped, echoing the death sentence inflicted by the illness, and cluttered with the bizarre medical equipment that Patrick has desperately cobbled together. We at the Dailynightmare are not generally fans of voice-over but the technique works to great effect here, especially with the touch of irony that the doctor’s comments are recorded on cassette tape. The sound work is also impressive ranging from jarring to nearly uplifting as the true consequences of the experiment are understood. Though the Impy goes to the director — yes, yes, we’re mired in 20th C auteurist presuppositions over here, get over it — but “Other” features actual honest-to-goodness acting by David Steiger. The appearance of, y’know, real dramatic portrayal of character is rare enough in horror films, but it is double-plus wonderful to find in a single actor screenplay. Steiger as Patrick is by turns desperate, exhultant, smug, tortured and deranged, and all he has to react against is some cleverly blinking bits of set dressing and a glob of nauseously pulsing tumor. The prosthetics and make-up were, frankly revolting, but demonstrated an internal logic beyond the mere gross-out. As Patrick peers into a mirror in the closing moments, the wounds on his torso range from fresh and seeping to ones that have scarred over and have started to heal. Well-done… and yuck!

For its attention to detail, intriguing themes and, oh yeah, disgustingly thought-provoking premise, we at The DailyNightmare.com are extremely proud to award the very first Impy to “Other.”

Categories
Grim Gnome Nightmares

Nightmare #339: The Needle and the Conqueror Worm

Centipede2

(Male, 30’s) I was staying at someone’s summer home, a sprawling house with multple floors. It looked out on landscaped terraces leading down to a lake but there didn’t seem to be any way to get out of the place. I was trying to sleep but some one much younger than myself was practicing bass guitar in the room above so I got up and wandered the house.

On the main floor of the place was a laboratory, sort of an industrial waiting room where workers stood around waiting for the shift change. It wasn’t clear what they all did. They were bored twenty-somethings, leaning against the furniture and counters. One of them seemed to recognize me and we spoke amicably. Another worker was edgy, clearly a dangerous jerk. He carried a hypodermic needle with him that he threatened to jab into people, his thumb on the plunger. Sticking out of his upper arm were spare needles. He didn’t seem to notice or care that they were skewered into his flesh.

He tried to bully me the way thugs on a playground would. I wouldn’t have any of his stupid threats so he stabbed me four times with his hypodermic, each time injecting something into my arm near the wrist. I demanded to know what it was. He was coy. “It’s nothing yu need to worry about, old man. Just cholesterol.” I didn’t believe him. but he didn’t tell me anything more.

Then, the flesh around the holes began to swell up. The holes grew large something started to poke out of the hole. It looked like a bead, a shiny black bead but eventually, a centipede poked its head out of my arms and wriggled, trying to get free. It squirmed and squirmed and finally used its hundred of legs to pull itself out of my flesh.

It was just the first. Soon, dozens of centipedes, hairy ones with thousands of tiny legs crawled out of the wounds on my arms, one by one, dropping to the floor.
Just when the waves of insects seemed to be slowing down, another large bead appeared in the one of my arms. It was the staring black eye of a larger bug, and pushed its way out. It was larger, hairless, hard round segments and thousands of legs. They followed like the poison inside me was evolving different kinds of bugs. They streamed out of my hand and fell to the floor.

The thug with the hypodermic needles seemed to find this hilarious but I was worried what kind of creature would follow after the centipedes.

What creature would crawl out of my flesh next?

Categories
Nightmares

Nightmare #317 – Insane and Toxic


(Male, 50’s) This was an epic length anxiety dream which at some point turned into a full bore nightmare.

I was on vacation somewhere at a retreat center in a rural setting during off-peak season. There may have only been one or two other people there. Simple setting, plain rooms but generally quiet. Except a construction team was building a new parking lot in the back of the building on what used to be a swamp. It wasn’t going well. There was angry yelling, machinery grinding and squealing then silence. The team had discovered something that was supposed to stay buried. The subcontractors who were supposed to fill in the swamp and raise the grade to where it could get asphalt had sunken a half dozen or so 55 gallon drums into the still mucky wet soil. Water or some liquid oozed all around these drums that gave off an oily, rainbow colored sheen. The people who drank from wells fed by this swamp might all have been poisoned.

That would explain all the birth defects that had been occurring in the area… Somehow I knew that there’d been birth defects even though I was just vacationing in the area.

It was getting dark but word spread fast about the poison. Rumors spread about possible weird side effects. Not quite zombies but people out of control, like feral beasts. I decided to turn off all the lights and brave it through the night rather than be trapped out on unfamiliar dirt roads in the dark.

At some point I heard the sound of music. Next door to the retreat center where I stayed was some kind of music camp. They were practicing. I went over to warn them, in case they hadn’t heard that crazed ex-humans were on their way. It was a music camp for orchestra players roughly aged 8 or so. They played pretty well for their age, not concert quality but not painfully bad. There were less than a half dozen adults. “The children have been practicing for weeks and since martial law has been declared, we don’t know when they’ll be able to play their instruments again. We wanted to let them have one last concert before they put their instruments down, possibly forever.” I couldn’t convince them of the danger they were putting themselves in. And in fact, they convinced me to stay for the concert. There were all sorts of foods, intricate pastries and hard boiled eggs. I didn’t know when I’d get to eat again, what with the mass of crazies headed our way.

The music was pleasant enough but in the middle of the first piece, one of the adults stands up. He’s clearly gone crazy if for no other reason than he’s got a full beard — I remember thinking that in the dream! He must be crazy because he has a full beard, which is odd because I have whiskers myself– He’s foaming at the mouth and his hair is frazzled. He pulls out a gun and aims it at one of the other adults. Bam! He shoots her in the heart and she’s dead. He aims again. Bam! Another adult shot dead right through the heart. The third bullet was meant for me but I simply decided that I was not going to be shot. Time slowed greatly. I leaped from my chair, grabbed a broom handle and swatted the gun from the lunatic’s hand.

At that instant I woke up, my heart just racing.

Categories
Nightmares

Nightmare #302 – Tasty, tasty Infection

(Male, 30’s) This nightmare ended up a lot like a zombie dream but it really was different. The whole set up was strange. I was feeling sick, dizzy or out of balance so I went to the hospital. I was waiting to see a doctor in a long white corridor. I was trying to read a magazine but I felt really uncomfortable. Then I noticed that there was a strange substance coming out from around the joints of my body. It was a little like there were actual seams where the parts of my arm connected at the elbow. The stuff that leaked out was a lot like that spray foam sealant. Except this stuff didn’t set up. It just stayed soft foam.

Needless to say I was concerned.

I went up to the attending nurse and showed the condition. He squinted, looked at the foam very seriously, then he poked his finger into it and tasted it. Yup, he took a dollop of this goo that was slowly seeping from my body and he put it in his mouth.

“It’s… delicious. Light, creamy and sweet.” the nurse declared. His eyes changed and he clearly became possessed with some kind of demonic hunger. He leapt on top of me, his teeth gnashing like he wanted to eat my insides. I hit him forcibly with something heavy and metallic. Maybe it was a bedpan. I looked around for assistance. Up and down the long hallway, doctors and nurses were attacking patients, trying to devour their guts.

I had turned into a cream-filled doughnut. It would be very difficult to get out alive.

Categories
Nightmares

Nightmare #288 – Careless Delivery

“… I began to worry if Mom would have enough blood left in her…”

Continue reading “Nightmare #288 – Careless Delivery”
Categories
Nightmares

Nightmare #284 – Look No Hands!

His arms just came to stumps around where his wrists used to be.

Continue reading “Nightmare #284 – Look No Hands!”
Categories
Nightmares

Nightmare #227 – Blood Thirst

(Male, 30’s) This was such a strange dream because it had all this backstory to it that I just knew in the context of the dream but that’s like total bullshit, that never happened. The only thing that I can think that started this nightmare was that I in fact gave blood earlier in the week. Due to the imagery, I should probably also mention that I’m also not a junkie.

“…I was a human pincushion…”

I was in a hospital clinic though it felt more like a waiting room. The walls were red brick and there were potted plants with long green fronds. The couches were arranged in sort of a maze that ended at the nurse’s station. I was there for a blood test. I had had something like fourteen blood tests in the past week and the weird thing is that my Mother had scheduled them all. Yup, I’m a grown man. I live on my own and yet for some reason my mom scheduled all these tests. Each test also seems to take out a fair amount of blood, I might add. I also had the sense that by scheduling them all pretty close together, it was skirting the limit of how much blood could be removed in such a brief period but I also get the sense that all the different clinics even at the same hospital didn’t have a clue at all what any other one is doing so they could very easily end up bleeding me dry before they realized that’s what happened.

So I’m waiting and then finally the nurse calls my name and I realize that I’m carrying a syringe in my hand. I must have stolen it from one of the other appointments. I have no idea how long it has been in my hand but it’s slightly sweaty, like I’ve been holding it for a long time, holding onto it tightly. The syringe is empty but I have no idea what I’m doing with it. So I’m embarrassed and I hide it in my backpack, trying to make sure that the nurse doesn’t see what I’m doing.

“Right arm or left?” And at that moment I remember that I still have a bandage wrapped around my right arm where blood had been drawn earlier in the day. Again, I felt embarrassed, like this was something I should hide, so I slipped my other hand up my sleeve and picked off the bandage. I presented my other arm to the nurse.

“…I felt nauseated…”

We look down at the arm together. On the inside of my arm there were a good half dozen holes, including one that looked like it was square. The flesh hadn’t sealed back over these holes but it hadn’t scabbed up either. I was a human pin cushion. I felt a little nauseated. The nurse tapped at one of them, the square one, I think, and said “That’s from a test you took last Monday. You have to wait five days before you get the results from that one before you can give any more.”

And at that point I just went crazy with anger. I stood up and yelled “Why did you make me wait in line, then? What if you hadn’t recognized that hole, would you have taken more blood out of me anyway? Do you really need to take so much blood every time? I really can’t believe that someone important would have to give this much blood. It’s only that I don’t matter, that I don’t count…”

And just then, my mother arrived. She was there to pick me up. Her hair was shock white. In life, she’s gray but dyes it auburn. She wore this very fashionable pant suit that also was bright white and around her neck was this long flowing scarf which was also bright white. She was a bit younger than she is now, more mobile, more confident. She was like a ghost or an angel. But I started yelling at her too, “Just stop making these appointments for me. If I want to be healthy, I’ll make my own appointments. Just leave me alone.”

Categories
Nightmares

Nightmare #137 – Arriving for the Funeral

(Male, Middle-Aged) My wife and I had just gotten into town, a small town with what appeared to be only one stop light and one main intersection. We arrived by train I believe because we exited a large brick station. I was wearing a black suit and black gloves and the only luggage I was carrying was my laptop from work which is in a black satchel. My wife is also dressed somberly. As we start to cross the road, a fancy old-style hearse turns the corner and heads toward us. It’s blaring a siren and flashing its lights which is pretty strange. Where would a hearse have to go in a hurry? We stop and let it pass. I am very tired, maybe from the journey, maybe from exhaustion or hunger. I am fighting to keep from passing out. My wife keeps telling me “It’s just a little way further.”

…They’re walking along, all in black, half like a mob and half like a parade of mourners…

Just as we are nearly across the road, I notice a whole family of people turning the corner where the hearse came from. There’s an older man and woman and their four full grown children and probably a half dozen other people. They’re walking along, all in black, half like a mob and half like a parade of mourners. The mother in particular is highly distraught and cries very loudly into a hankerchief. She keeps choking like she’s trying to stop crying. I recognize the family once they get closer. They must be arriving for this same funeral. They’re friends and normally I’d want to talk with them but in this dream I was filled with panic. I just wanted to get to my hotel room or where ever I was going and close my eyes. The fear of talking with them made me try to escape but I was horribly dizzy. They kept gaining on me and my wife but at last we entered the building where we were heading to. I felt worse and worse with every step, a little like my head was emptying, like my brains were just evaporating and pouring out my ears. Despite these disturbing sensations, I knew I had to hold onto my brief case because I had to do work while I was vacationing at this funeral. My wife was quite a ways ahead of me by now. She opened a door and held it open for me though I realized I would never make it that far.

At just about that moment, I figured out that I was arriving at my own funeral.

Categories
Nightmares

Nightmare #122 – Baby Traps

(Male) Let me start by noting that I realize this nightmare is anatomically impossible for SEVERAL reasons — I paid attention in “Health” class enough to know that. I was visiting my mother who apparently lived in a different city. We were strolling through this nice, gentrified area that obviously used to be freight warehouses in a rail yard but that had been transformed into a series offices, coffee stands, lofts, places to eat over-priced lunches and small shops that sold small, expensive pieces of junk. I was very surprised when we came to one door that Mother indicated was her office, surprised because Mom retired something like 20 years ago. We entered and I found a dark and dirty room, cramped to begin with but that was made even more difficult to navigate by this huge, old-style dentist’s chair bolted right to the middle of the floor. It was in bad shape — the arm pads had been torn up by generations of fingernails clawing against the pain. Mom had me sit in the chair. She had an assistant in this tiny room as well, a burly young woman who stood quietly in the shadowy corner but seemed prepared to hold my legs down if it proved necessary.

…Mom asked me to open my mouth and she forced this bottle down my throat, open end down…

Mother explained that she needed to “harvest some babies” from me. She showed me a simple device that would do the work. It was a clear glass bottle, probably half a liter with a very wide mouth and this weird attachment that dangled from the mouth inside the bottle. The attachment looked a bit like a noose. Mom asked me to open my mouth and she forced this bottle down my throat, open end down. The way the trap worked, I was lead to believe, was that a developing fetus would eventually grow to be so large that it had to stick its head inside the bottle and once it did that, its head would be trapped inside the noose. The baby would be caught and Mom could then gently twist the bottle out of my throat and she’d have a baby. Yes, I realize how twisted this sounds. At least this was how Mom explained the procedure to me. I didn’t question why she kept putting another and another bottle down my throat, pushing them in hard, screwing them to force them down my esophagus. If the idea was that they were to catch a developing fetus, well, wouldn’t I only need one at a time? That is, even if guys DID develop fetuses at all! And why were they going down my throat? I woke up snoring so badly I was choking.

And since I bet you’d ask, no, my wife is not pregnant.