Truth is more horrifying than fiction...

 
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PAGE 7

 

"Nine, Ten...Never sleep Again..."

 

I was now twenty years old. I had just finished college and had my first apartment out on my own. I was having the time of my life. Lots of parties, women, two jobs that I really enjoyed, and a whack of friends that always came over to visit. By all accounts, I was really happy and stress free (none of the troubles that are usually attributed to going...how shall I say...crazy)

...But at  night, as I slept alone... At first, it was barely noticeable, but as time went by it got worse. I find it hard to recall the first dream in which I saw Him. To the best of my recollection, I was at a car race (I had watched an Indy race earlier that night with some friends...) All was normal, or at least as normal as dreams can be...I mean I wasn't dressed in a chicken outfit, or anything, but I do remember waking up upset, and not knowing why. The next day the dream came back to me, but only bits and pieces...for some reason, that "dark man" that I had seen when I was 13 when I got hit by the car was in the dream...off in the distance, and not saying anything, just....watching....I remember even in the dream, he looked strangely out of place. The black stove-pipe like hat, and the old-fashioned clothing stuck out in the crowds ...he had no place in this dream, and he seemed more vivid than the rest of the dream. This was kind of strange, to say the least, but youthful exuberance wrote the whole thing off to a bad slice of pizza the night before.

But it kept happening.

Every night for weeks, no matter what I dreamt about, HE was there, silently watching nothing else but me. And with every dream, he got closer and closer. Although I wouldn't admit it, I was getting really scared. I know these were just dreams, but there was something real about this guy, something really threatening. I was starting to be afraid to go to sleep at nights, so when my buddy Brian asked me if I would consider a room-mate, I jumped at the chance, knowing I would feel better having somebody else there in the apartment with me. It didn't work...

Only a week after he moved in, the mother of all dreams hit. I was in a field, and it was bright and sunny. I was hiking to a campsite all by myself. There were deer, and rabbits, and birds...in all a very pleasant dream. But for some reason, it started to cloud over, and all the animals disappeared. It got very quiet, and I had the distinct feeling of being lost. That's when I heard the sound of ...how do I describe it...dirt, earth moving behind me. I turned around, and there in front of me, rising out of the ground like reverse quicksand was HIM, the dark man. I was terrified, but was unable to run or scream. All I could do was stand there and watch this unholy thing rise from the ground before me, and as he reached his full height a mere two feet or so before me, his semi-rotten eyes met mine, and he smiled, a dirty, earth filled smile of something that had been buried for a very long time. An evil smile by all accounts, then he looked down. In a panic, I desperately looked down at my feet to see why I could not run, and there, at my feet, was the rotten corpse of a baby, clawing at my feet. A ghostly baby's crying filled the air, and then I finally found my voice...in shear terror, I screamed, and screamed...My room-mate Brian came running into the room with a baseball bat...only to find me a terrified crumpled screaming heap in the corner of my bedroom...I guess I scared him bad...There was no more sleep for either of us that night. Or the next, for me, anyway.

I was a tired, messed up wreck. I had finally made the connection to my mothers stories of the "Dark Man", and my troubling dreams. I did not go to work , I instead went to talk to my mother. She sat and listened to my accounts of seeing this "thing" in my dreams, and near the end of my accounts, I noticed that she had gone silently white. She explained to me that the man that I was describing was in fact the man that had terrorized her 20 years prior, only she had purposely never described him to me, perhaps to spare me the fear that it had spurred in her. Now it was me who had to calm her. She was convinced that HE was back to finally claim me. She related the entire story to me, along with all the details she had previously left out for my sake. I'll never forget the fear in that room, as she told me of baby Dale, the death, and the Dark Man. But she told me one thing that convinced me that these dreams were only my over active imagination working overtime. She described his booming voice, and an accompanying "Smell" that she couldn't quite describe...and  neither were present in my dreams...this was the key...It was only my sub-conscious recalling stories of long ago told to me by my mother, in which she MUST have described him to me...how else would I know what he looked like? That had to be the answer. Being trained in computers, I was a man of science. This was the only logical solution...So like a true computer geek, I made a B-line to the nearest library to get a book on controlling your dreams.

I did what the book said, I drank a glass of water, and recited to myself that I was the master of my dreams, and that I could wake myself up whenever I wanted, and other such hogwash...but to the obscure authors credit...It worked. I was pretty proud of myself. He was from that point onward no longer in my dreams.

No...no longer in my dreams...

... because the next time him and I met...HE was as real as you and me...

 

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Email The Author -  Dale A. Moses