To Dream Within a Dream

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is a story for silver 84's contest. The theme was dream. Hope you all enjoy this, it may be a weird one.

I find myself falling, face first, into a pit of darkness. Unable to stop myself from screaming as I plummet into the deep, dark, unknown.

Suddenly it starts to echo in my head - making me cringe and feeling as if I just got my bell rung - just before I start to feel as if I may vomit or maybe pass out from the weird smell beginning to permeate all around me, seeming to pass right through me; almost making me choke on it.

Then: Smack!

And then nothing for a few moments...

Until I open my eyes again a minute later, and imagine my I now find myself underwater but somehow standing on solid ground. I'm not struggling for breath, either, but I do seem to be moving extremely slow. Barely able to move around at all.

As I'm plodding along, the ground quickly turns to sidewalk with tall buildings all about. Also, people instantly flood the entire walkway. Looking around while still barely making my way forward, nobody else seems to be having a problem at all moving, it almost makes me feel like I'm stuck in super-slow motion.

Then: Pow!

Some huge cretin is bumping into me and shouting into my face. I can't quite make out the words, my ears being filled with water, but he looks extremely pissed off.

Now I'm getting shoved and I'm starting to get mad in return. Just as I start to think, Who in the hell does this guy think he is?, I get cracked in the face. And again a couple more times for good measure.

Now I'm getting furious, my face red and lumpy from the strikes but also from rage and frustration.

How can he be so fast?

I steadily try to swing - to no avail - most are dodged easily; but on the odd chance I do connect, it literally is like grandma is hitting him. Not able to generate any power, therefore, my punches have absolutely zero effect on the bruiser.

Ten more quick punches land, peppering my head, five or ten landing to evey one I can just barely manage to throw. How can I continue on like this? Somehow, I manage.

After taking a hundred or more head-smashing jabs, I muster up the strength for one final swing. It landing flush on the chin of this neanderthal in front of me.

It does nothing.

Dozens more swinging fists seem to come my way from every direction as I start to go down, just covering up the best I can.

Using my arms to block my head and trying to absorb as many of the punches as possible, I start to fall face first to the concrete sidewalk. Blow after blow after blow, are continuously raining down upon me.

Then: Crack!

One last big uppercut and I'm out cold; snoring away.

And I stay that way for a little while...just how long is hard to tell.

Opening my eyes once again, unsure of where I am now, but the water apparently has disappeared; so that's good.

For some reason though, I start filling with this impending sense of dread, welling up deep within my stomach that I can't explain.

I reach up to feel my face, to check out the damage, and it seems completely fine. So that's also good.

Only wishing that terrible feeling to disipate, for it was causing the urge to vomit to almost return in tandem.

Getting to my feet I look around and see I'm at the very end of a clearing, right on the doorstep of a massively-huge house. The place appearing oddly familiar but haunting and frightening at the identical time.

I begin accending the steps to the front door. There is a large knocker on it that I can't resist the temptation to try out.

Knock, knock, knock!

There is no answer, but the door creaks open.

I push it more, stepping inside, asking if anyone was at home.

Of course there is still no answer.

Stepping into the foyer, I see a newspaper laying there that I pick up. I attempt to read it but it just baffles me, making the head pains start to return.

The date on the paper reads: Oct. 26, 1985.

All the words and letters on it though are just a jumbled up mess. Totally illegible; at least to me.

I sit it back down and continue on deeper into the house, that terrible dread always there.

As I travel further into the house I start to have an aire of being watched, or followed.

It quickly becomes apparent that there is someone else inside this house besides just me.

And for some reason I get the feeling this person is an enemy of mine, that wishes to do harm to my person in some way.

I swear I can hear him coming now, so I take off running - frantically - throughout the mansion; traveling swiftly in and out of the incredibly-long hallways. That dreadfulness is not subsiding, though, if anything I feel as if my pursuer is gaining ground on me.

That's when I turn the corner, stopping dead in my tracks, my jaw hanging open in shock.

Gawking at me from the other end of the hall is a shadowy, malevolent, figure. Most assuredly the one that I could sense following and tracking me down.

I could see a broad, devilish, grin spreading across his features; undoubtedly directed at me. Successfully giving me the willies.

Shouting down the hall asking who was there, but of course getting no response so I instinctively take a step backwards edging away from my assailant. Just as I am about to turn and flee, I notice that he is gone. That didn't set my mind at ease, though, if anything it made me more nervous.

Now I'm not sure where to turn or which direction to go. Having caught me off guard and leaving me temporarily paralized. Whether in shock or from fear, I'm unable to tell.

Knowing that I can't stay there, so I just pick one and head off in that direction.

Reaching a full sprint by the time I turn the next corner, trying to catch my breath from the fright, I come face to face with my enemy.

A loud gasp escapes me. I notice his shirt, first off, a rock band's logo is on his chest but the words are impossible to make out. The picture is of a giant bug attempting to squash the entire earth. His face, just like the words on his shirt, is in no way near processing or registering from my eyes to my brain.

It's as if they are faded almost to nothing, or simply don't exist. Or, perhaps even like they are some sort of other language that I don't speak a word of. A funny way to think of facial features, but that is almost what it is like.

The only thing that sticks out is that hideous grin, with every time he smiles. It is the only thing legible to me and it is filled with pure evilness, as far as I can tell.

That's when my gaze drops to his hands and focuses on the huge butcher knife held in one fist, and a machete grasped in the other, making my heart sink into my gut. I almost throw up all over his shoes.

He then unleashes his fury on me before I could even gag, with him laughing wildly the whole time. It ringing hauntingly in my eardrums and throughout my entire head.

Stabbing me all over - repeatedly - with both blades; leaving me covered in bloody-gaping holes that begin spraying all over the floor and walls.

Not one drop lands on him, I notice just as the world begins to dim. The constant howling laughter is neverending, even as I fall forward and start to check out.

Just before I go, though, I register one more coherant thought.

I see him arching the machete sideways, parallel with the floor, and coming right for me...


...the next instant the world is somersaulting away in a spinning swirl of colors. Finally coming to rest, but everything is on its side now. I can see my enemy looking down at me, staring into my eyes, and for one quick second I can just almost make out his face.

He kind of looks like me.

That's when I wake up in a hospital room. I can see my mother who has been fighting a losing battle with cancer lying there in her bed.

A painful look spreads across my face as I feel around my neck. And again, not one thing is out of place. I feel some slight relief from that.

Edging over to my mother's side, tears start welling up in my eyes as I begin thinking and reminiscing about the chain of events that came to bring her to this final state.

The years with her raising me, always with a cigarette hanging from her mouth, but they were happy days... We always did enjoy each other's company, that was for sure.

Now, though, I notice her mouth hangs open. Thinking it was strangely out of place when everything else seems to be fine. I stare blankly into her gob, it becoming an endless-cavernous pit that I'm hanging over making me feel light-headed. And then, suddenly...I fall in.

I come to - once again - falling into a vast, neverending, darkness.

Submitted: August 16, 2013

© Copyright 2022 Km2. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


Lady Moon

Two types of dreams I hate; ones where you can't move and the ones where you fall, .

Fri, August 16th, 2013 9:41am


Me too! Probably the only reason why I could remember those dreams and none others. I hate them too. I also really hate the one where I dream of being starving and eating a giant marshmallow, then I wake up and my pillow is gone, haha. Thanks again, for reading and commenting. It is greatly appreciated, as always. :o)

Sun, August 18th, 2013 7:44am

Criss Sole

This was spooky. I loved how you were able to describe everything in such detail. There was a period in my life when I would dream about falling, and that used to terrify me.

Very well written.

Fri, August 16th, 2013 10:39am


Why thank you, Chris, very happy you checked this one out. Yes, I think everyone probably has the falling dream at one point in their life, but I can see how it would be much more terrifying for you madam. I'm happy that you are doing much better now, and not still having those dreams, so that is really good. Thanks again, as always madam, for reading and commenting. :o)

Sun, August 18th, 2013 7:50am

Kitty Becker

Okay, I don't really dream(ever) and iv always been kinda sad about it but if dreams are actually like this then i am totally over it!!lol. No dreams would be way better than THIS!! It was beautifully written, extremely imaginative and captivating! But it creeped me out a ton!! It kinda felt like I'd strolled into a crazy persons head! Don't get me wrong, I bet some mental patients' heads are super fun! For example,I live near this crazy lady who runs out naked in front of buses when she's,I bet her head would be a flippin' party!lol. But this was kinda like getting a glimpse into a serial killers' head!(Not really shockin' as you seem to be an expert at writing about that kind of thing.......teensy bit worried about you But, to be fair,I thought that about Stephen King and he is lovely in real I so, to sum excellent piece that successfully creeped me the hell out! Kudos on how you create a killer( 'killer' as in great, not as in literal killer.....but also that atmosphere every time without fail btw! I hope the contest goes well!! Good luck!!! Kitty x

Sat, August 17th, 2013 1:13am


I know right! These are my three most memorable dreams all strung into one story, and I hate them! is probably why I can remember them, hehe. I either don't dream or can never remember them, lol. Hahaha, I'm happy it crept you out, for it was creepy for me, too, lol. Whoa, now that is a crazy lady! How the hell is she still alive, lol? Yeah, I've been writing a lot of dark stuff here lately, I guess it is sort of this kick I've been on, lol. And the whole King family is great! ;) Thank you, again, very much miss Kitty. I always try to give it my all. I hope so too, I always have my fingers crossed for them, lol. :o)

Sun, August 18th, 2013 7:59am

The elder poet

Exciting to say the least. I was hanging on at every sentence. More a nightmare than a dream. I to have dreamed that I was moving in slow motion. Very well written. Thanks for sharing you work with us.

Sat, September 7th, 2013 8:55pm


Why thank you, sir! And yes, they definitely are nightmares but a nightmare within a nightmare just doesn't have the same ring that dream within a dream has, haha. I know, I hate that slow motion dream. It is one of the worst. No problem at all, sir, very happy you enjoyed and wanted to read. I greatly appreciate the support. Thanks again, as always, my friend. :o)

Sun, September 8th, 2013 7:38pm

Angie Blake

Okay, I like this one. This is good. It's got it's own creepy side to it. We might use this one because after all........that's what it's all about. The Creepy side........Buahahaha!
I, personally, think it was his father who abused him and that's why he never mentioned him at the end. Abused people feel a lot this way and I think you made this a very good creepy story.

Sat, October 5th, 2013 6:01pm


Haha, yeah, I just combined my three most hated dreams and came up with this story about them, lol. Then at the end the part with his mother just came to me so that he would have a hole to fall in (her mouth) to start the story over again, taking it back to the beginning. Coming full circle. Glad you liked this one, I wrote it for silver's contest, but I don't know if he is ever going to get the time to finish it and pick the winners, lol. Thanks again, for reading and commenting, miss Angie. :o)

Sat, October 5th, 2013 11:56am


I remember you saying that this story is an actual dream that you had so I'm not going to critique quite like I would a fictional story but this is a fascinating peek at how a person's mind can work and articulate its emotions while we are "resting" and re-charging for another day. In the opening,I had a sense of someone just being completely overwhelmed and overpowered by some force in life. Falling in a dream is a sense of being completely out of control in every sense of the word and to have this followed by being underwater is interesting. Another overwhelming instance has immediately taken control. The immediate change to high buildings and lots of people is another panicky "I'm being swept along" type feeling, culminating in someone physically overpowering you on an individual basis. And none of the people offer to help or interfere in any way. I think a bit of your horror roots start to show in the next sequence,lol, the classic haunted house but,yet again, here's another situation beyond your control. You are also lost in this house, another out of control situation and something or someone is in there with you. Even the shirt that the person is wearing, when you finally run into him, is a picture of a scene beyond your control. The classic overwhelming scene is then played out with your stalker becoming your attacker and killing you but what's truly fascinating about this is the fact you finally recognize the person as being yourself. Your subconscious realizes, in all instances, that you truly are your own worse enemy. And at the end there is your recall of your mother succumbing to cancer, the one true situation beyond everyone's control, the passing away of those we hold so close to our heart. This is a beautiful piece Kenny and while I'm no psychiatrist I think it says a lot about you and about human nature itself, our need to live fulfilled lives before that inevitable end comes around for us all.

Thu, October 17th, 2013 9:49pm


Why thank you, Tyler! And wow, what a comment! Yes, this was actually the three most memorable dreams that I've had, then I added the part at the end with his mother as I was finishing writing it. Ah, yes, they says dreams can have many meanings and influences on us. I never really think about them like that, buy you and others have touched on some really wonderful insights. And they seem to be pretty spot on. Wouldn't be surprised if I was feeling all those things while I had these dreams way back. And may even still be feeling many of things even today, lol. I liked the part with the attacker's shirt, too. I think I may have gotten the idea for the logo on it off of an album cover or something, hehe. And this is true, many times and in many ways I am my own worst enemy. Why thank you again, Tyler, very happy you were able to find so much deep meaning in this piece and were able to enjoy it. We all strive to be fulfilled, but it always seems to be an uphill battle. Till next time, my friend. :o)

Fri, October 18th, 2013 1:08pm


Cool story, it seems to me writing about dreaming would be difficult, I'll have to try it sometime! Sometimes dreaming is like another language, you describe it well.

Sun, March 16th, 2014 3:56pm


Thank you, sir, it was both difficult and not too bad. Dreams can be a huge inspiration, but they can be difficult to capture just the way you envision them. Give it a shot, though, what's the worst that can happen. Thank you, very happy you read and enjoyed this one. Take care! :o)

Tue, June 24th, 2014 12:08pm

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