The nightmare from my sleep left remnants in my conscious that dragged me through the day like a small child drags her doll from it’s foot, upside down along the ground. The dream did not escape me when I woke. It did not part ways and fade into a blur. My nightmare perched itself on my shoulder and made Monday hide in the corner with it’s death stare. I couldn’t shake it.
Another nightmare makes no real difference to me. I can count all the good dreams I’ve ever had on one hand. It’s the nightmares that keep me frightened during my eyes open time. The nightmares that make me look over my shoulder when I leave a room, and check behind the shower curtain when I go to brush my teeth. The nightmares that make my house seem much bigger and with more hiding places. This nightmare was just like that.
It played out like a movie. I was the leading character, main victim and yet still stood outside the dream watching it play out in terror.
My fear is not nightmares. My fear is repeating nightmares, nightmares that have sequels and nightmares that linger on the mind haunting my conscious space. If a nightmare makes a habit of repeating, it instils in me the fear of truth or perhaps that it will become real. The first stages of coming to life are having the strength to appear more than once.
A nightmare should be bound by the confines of my sub conscious. If a nightmare can invade my mind when I have control then it would literally be a living nightmare. It’s hard enough waking up as it is.