Over the past couple of months my dreams have... escalated in vividry and intensity. Even more so than normal. Since perhaps a year and a half ago it all started, but it was more or less something I could contend with in spite of the occasional fever dream.
Now, however, its become a constant. Although, its no longer as shocking as it once was. Much like playing a horror game over and over again.
Still, some dreams cause me some discomfort. Almost like my dreams are trying to grow in this intensity.
One dream, from about a half-week ago shook me. I don't believe i should go into much detail. Lots of blood and bones and rot. And witness of a prison so foul that the smell of it caused me to loose my breath, choking me awake.
I've witness wars, legions of undead and deamons roaming the earth, ghastly mutants preying upon men and women. Yet in the dreams, I largely move through all of it unharmed.
The biggest impediment I've ever taken in a dream is a debilitating lack of movement. Like my legs won't listen. Still I manage to walk the miles.
But, when I wake up, I feel... disconnected. Like I should of been hurt or terrified to the point of being petrified.
Last night, however, something of a more perturbing and different manner occurred.
It was... like I was living somewhere else. In this house that stood alone in a plain, just down from a shallow hill that rose to an old forest. To the front of it, a waterfront and a bridge spanning the waters.
Perhaps a house that I'd see as my ideal: A simple two story affair, built of strong material with strong bones and honestly a peaceful energy. Perhaps a manifestation of an island of peace within my own mind.
Yes, now that I think about it, that house was a sanctuary. Yet there was still turmoil within such an asylum.
I'd forgotten about someone. Such a pain to realize now for someone who is terrified of forgetting and being forgotten.
This someone lived on the 2nd floor of the estate. By way of an elevated stair and entrance. Like the place was a duplex apartment almost.
This person was someone I've seen many times through my dreams, although her aperance changes often. This time, she seemed to be a childhood friend of mine... but I remember using a name that was different to that of my old friend. Alice, it was. That i'm sure of.
There were a few days where I was in my part of the house. The bottom level. I felt... alone, like there was nobody I knew that I could talk to. A familiar situation.
Though, I felt like I was also talking with someone. I don't remember whom. This part of the dream was filled with mired confusion, so I don't remember too much about it.
Next I remember, I was stood in the dark, just below a small rise, almost like an old levee. Upon it were 13 people, women, dressed rather...oddly, perhaps is the right word. Almost like clothes from a different time.
One stood out from the group, 2nd in line from the left. She was young. Perhaps 17 or 18. Yet, somehow, i could tell she was... powerful.
And oh did she dislike me, as did all of the women assembled before me. I don't remember her words, but she seemed promised to kill me or at the very least cause me harm in some way.
At another point in the dream, I remember it being a warzone. Someone speaking into my ear yet far away. Smoke grenades were popping off all about me as I forded some water to a flat span of grass. On a rise, perhaps the same levee as that dark time where I was stood before that coven was that girl who despised me so much.
I was running, trying to escape or just get out of that area. The voice in my ear was responsible for the smoke, shooting out the grenades to help me.
I hid in the smoke, running parallel to the levee, right at the line of the water towards... perhaps some abandoned barn or covered dock that was right on the water.
Next thing I remember, I was in the room with the girl that live upstairs in the house. Talking with her. I suddenly remembered her and oh how did i feel like such a fool for forgetting.
I was showing her these pictures I drew, but I do not remember what they were, just that they were traced from images that were drawn before by my hand or some hand in my dreams.
I woke shortly after. The whole dream is a confusing turn of events.
I have to wonder if there is something or someone out there that has set a grounds for horror in my dreams, or if I'd forgotten about someone important.
An unfortunate bit of my history has had to do with meddling with vision and dreams, to a fruitless and embittered avail. I'd like to think I've grown past it as a better and more astute individual, but something is following me.
Maybe it was some mistake that I made without my realization of it. I don't know... but its confusing and left me wondering regardless.
And a curious individual, I am. Hopefully that isn't a bad thing for my future.
At any rate, I suppose I left this post here for some reason. Not sure of it anymore, I guess I had to get it off my chest.
Such an unusual disconnect between my dreams and my physical rest. Even war and Apocalypse in a dream doesn't seem to affect how I sleep.
Odd to me, but, I'd hardly think it is extraordinary or even unusual to everyone.