How are you Sleeping Lately?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A woman with a troubled sleep-life...

Submitted: December 23, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 23, 2011



“Hello.  My name is Susan.  Would you please come in and sit down?  I’d love to talk to you for a minute.  I have so many thoughts in my head that I would just love to share with you.

I am a wife, for 30 years now, might I add.  I am not bragging at all… but I would like you to know that it hasn’t been easy.  Not one single day has been easy.  There are so many things that you must give up in order to be a good wife.  You have to give up your freedom, for one.  I was not so excited about that one, but I can say that I’ve gotten used to it.  I am used to being a one-man woman!  I love my husband and would never dare to touch another.  You also have to give up your alone time.  With a husband, you have none of that, unless you both figure out a way to make it happen.  You gain a partner for life though – someone that you can talk to about anything; someone that you know is going to be there later.  Sometimes that is all it takes to make it worth it.

I am also a mother of a 13 year old little girl.  She means the world to me and I have never, ever taken her for granted.  She definitely acts like me and she looks up to me.  I am very proud of her and I spend all my time taking care of my family because I feel that is the only way!  I want to be a good mother and a good wife.  I spend all my “free” time either playing with my daughter, teaching her, cooking, spending time with my husband, cleaning, or working.  You may think that it’s an awfully dull life, but I find that it is my perfect fit.  I was made for this job!  I can do it better than anyone else, even with my hands tied behind my back. 

Of course, with every perfect thing, comes another thing that is not quite so perfect.  Mine would have to be insomnia.  I cannot sleep very often, but when I do it is really quite magical!  I mean, in my dreams, I can be anything, do anything, and go anywhere… I can live out my deepest desires in my dreams, without hurting anyone else that is important to me.  I can choose another child, in my dreams, and see how that “perfect” relationship could be… and should be; even if my real one isn’t so perfect.  I mean my daughter is a teenager now.  You have the late night phone calls, the expensive clothes that are needed to fit in, and of course, the mellow-dramatic issues that teenagers face.  It’s really tough to raise a child now-days.  You have to check-up on them, you have to watch them when they’re on the internet, when they’re going out with their friends, and even read in their little journals.  You have to keep up with them all the time – I mean that seems like a lot of work to me!  But it’s really worth it to feel the love of your own child.  A child’s love is unconditional love – the one that loves you just because you are ‘mom’.  That is the best feeling in the world – or so I’m told.

In my dreams though, everything runs as smooth as it possibly could.  Daughters are perfect little angels, husbands are knights in shining armor, and wives are the happiest people in the world.  Bosses are your best friends and people look up to you, in your dreams.  You can travel to those places that you couldn’t afford to go or go on a date with an exotic muscular man.  You can fly in airplanes, or by yourself, and you can jump across bridges and rescue someone from a burning building.  You can jump off a cliff, you can drown under a boat, you can shoot your ex, and you can cut your most hated enemy into a hundred million pieces and get away scot-free!  You can do anything that you can ever imagine in your dreams.

Nightmares.  Those things will really scar your soul.  You have to take extreme measures to wake yourself up when you are having nightmares.  If you miss the opportunity, you will wake up in a cold sweat and you will have feelings that you didn’t even know existed.  If you can find that perfect time though, just before things start getting too weird, you can escape the feelings.  I mean, I hardly ever feel anything in “real life.”  I do have the conscious, but I do not feel regret, shame, anger, sadness, lust, or anything else when I’m awake.  I do, however, have all of these emotions, and then some, in my dreams.  Does that make me crazy?  Does that make me abnormal?  You can be the judge.

I was in a new house.  This house was unlike any that I had ever see – the kind of house that any woman would love to have!  It was three stories tall, with long, white columns surrounding the front porch.  There were two little rocking chairs in the corner and green, bushy bushes planted all around the front of the house.  Inside, the ceilings were twenty foot tall.  The furniture, the floor, walls, curtains and everything were solid white.  This house had at least sixty different rooms inside.  It had a basketball court, a swimming pool, and a bowling alley in the basement… It was a house that you never would want to leave.  I was wearing a long white gown and my hair was flowing down my back, all the way to my behind.  My hair was blonde and my body was stunning.  I was the most beautiful woman that I could imagine.  The house was cold and dreary, in spite of all of the brilliant white surroundings… I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was definitely wrong.  I went about the house, in search of my daughter.  I found a long room – a room with thirty different washing machines and clothes dryers – the laundry room.  The room was a mess like someone had just come in and threw various things around.  I dug through a pile of clothes in the middle of the room.  I found a necklace under the mess – my daughter’s necklace.  I would know it anywhere!  It had a little silver horse on a chain – the necklace that I had bought for her on her fourth birthday.  Beside the chain was one small, red spot – a blood spot.  I knew it had come from my daughter.  I was frantic – panicking, running around aimlessly, and screaming for her.  I shook my head and got myself together.  I knew that I had to find her.  I ran out of the laundry room and turned up into what appeared to be, an inside garden room.  There were flowers planted all around and a huge cement fountain in the middle of a circular walkway.  I gasped when I spotted her, lying motionless in the fountain.  I ran over a grabbed her.  She gasped for breath and started swinging her arms around wildly.  I told her, ‘It’s your mother’ and she seemed to calm down a little.  I helped her to her feet and asked her to tell me what had happened.  Was she cut?  Was she bleeding?  I was searching her over, scared half to death that she could be hurt.  I saw that she had an inch wide cut on her left thigh…

Wow.  I woke up in a cold sweat, ran into her room, and she was sound asleep.  I usually never check on her at all, once it’s bedtime.  Usually, she has no trouble sleeping.  I had the feeling of panic, when I awoke, the same as the panic in my dreams.  I hate when the feelings follow the dream.  Since my feelings are non-existent, it’s strange to have them actually find their way in.  At least it helps me to stay normal when I know that I can, at least, feel something.  I only regret that it’s when I’m sleeping.  I wish that I could feel some of those feelings when I’m awake too.  I definitely don’t want to see my daughter hurt or my enemies chopped up, but I would like to be able to feel the happiness of my dreams.  Seems now, that I do not know what happiness is or what is should be like.  I have a hard time being happy over anything.  They try and they try to make me happy and still I sit here, hard and cold.  I am not happy.

I smiled the biggest smile that I have ever known when my daughter brought her fiancée over to meet us.  He was the nicest guy that I had ever seen and a very handsome young man.  He was dressed in a white overcoat and had a stethoscope around his neck.  Apparently he was a doctor.  Wow.  She would make a stunning bride – and he certainly would make a stunning groom.  I ran up and hugged her and she introduced me to her fiancée.  I was so happy for her – so happy that she would be partaking in the most excited day of her life in only a few days.  She had come into to town to stay with us until the wedding.  The strange thing, our house was really the neighbor’s house – a house that I’ve been inside before, a house that was borrowed.  We lived there now – not in our house across the street.  They came inside and we had a nice dinner, a dinner in which my husband and I got to know a little bit about my daughter’s fiancée.  He was a med student, not a doctor… but he was close enough, I guess.  I was impressed by his GPA, his work ethics, and even his athleticism.  He had a stunning tan and you could see his muscles bulging under his shirt.  I was so happy for her!  She seemed to have the perfect fiancée.  I look over at my husband and wondered why I didn’t get that lucky?  But I am so happy for her and I only want what’s best for her.  I haven’t been this happy in my life.  My daughter and her fiancée were exhausted, so they got ready to go to sleep in my daughter’s old bedroom… in this case it was the bedroom that my cousin grew up in – the bedroom in the neighbor’s house.  My husband and I went to sleep also.  I was awoken with my daughter’s fiancée leaning over me on the bed.  He had a knife in the air, over my head – a knife that was dripping with blood.  I screamed and turned over only to see my husband was a bloody mess.

Now I woke up sweating, feeling absolute horror at the thought of my husband being killed or of my daughter’s fiancée being a murderer someday.  I also felt happiness at the thought of my daughter’s wedding day and lust over her hunky, perfect fiancée.  There are those feelings again – what a joy.  How can you possibly get a mix of happiness and horror and lust?  I try to shake them away and usually I can.  The feelings only last for a few minutes after I awaken.  I am lucky in that way – but unlucky that I can’t feel them during normal daytime hours.  I long to see what the happiness of a child feels like.  A child that can play with simple things, like bubbles, and have the most fun that they’ve ever had before!  Maybe it’s because they haven’t experienced the bad stuff yet; maybe it’s just because life makes them happy.  The happiness of being a child is the most happy that you’ll ever be, or so I was told.

I see my mother on the sofa of her living room.  She has a cup of the “good stuff” on the table and a bottle in her hand.  She is drinking straight out of the bottle and I already know that tonight is not going to be a good night.  I try to dodge her and go straight to my room, but she follows me.  She follows me while shouting out profanities, accusing me of doing this and doing that, and slurring at me with that drunken slurred speech.  I want to get out of there – I have never wanted anything so badly.  I look at the window and I see her behind me, drinking and swearing and drinking some more.  I scream at her to leave me alone and she raises her hand at me.  She is going to smack me, I know.  I recall the other times that she’s done the same thing and not remembered in the morning.  This time will be different.  I notice my baseball bat propped up in the corner of the room.  I tell her that if she lays a hand on me, she is going to regret it.  I see her smile that crooked smile and see the hate in her eyes.  She is determined to do it anyway.  I see her hand coming, duck and grab my baseball bat.  I raise it back, she tries to block her head, but I swing as hard as I can.  I hear the crack and I keep on swinging, harder and more determined with every stroke.  I can’t stop myself, it feels so good.  It feels so good to confront my problems in a violent manner.  This is what I like to do most of all!  I smile and clean up the mess.  I grab a blanket, wrap up the body and take it outside.  I carefully load it in the back of my dad’s boat.  I drive out to the river and I drive the boat off into the clearing.  No one else is around – it has to be very late now.  I brought a rope and a cement block with me.  I pick up her ankle to tie the block to… and she sits up on the boat.  She smiles at me and says, ‘Your mother will never leave you…’

Another night that I awakened in cold sweats, filled with horror.  And you wonder why I don’t sleep?  I could even take sleeping pills and still wake up in a few hours.  Dreams are great and they are also very stressful.  Again, I am alright in just a few minutes.  Back to the cold hearted woman that I’ve always been.  I’ve never really known many dreams that were entirely ‘good,’ but some parts have been worth it.  The feelings still get to me. 

I’m taking a ride on a boat, all by myself.  I’m out in the middle of the river in my swimsuit – but my body is smoking hot.  I’m wearing a white straw hat and a yellow bikini, with some little yellow flip-flops.  They have little white seashells on top of the strap.  I am lying back, relaxing and drinking a nice tall glass of red wine.  The sun is beating down on my flesh and it’s so warm.  It feels so nice.  The river is quiet and very peaceful.  I am listening to some slow country songs on the radio.  I find my suntan oil in my little red bag and begin applying it to my skin.  I can feel the coldness of the lotion as it hits my body and shivers run up my spine.  I can feel the sun warm the lotion as I rub it on my skin.  Every touch feels magnificent, hot lotion on warm sun-bathed skin.  I notice someone is having a picnic on the shore, not too far off.  It is a man and a woman lying on a blanket.  The pair is naked and rolling around, playing on their blanket.  I can see their picnic basket close by the water.  I try not to watch, but I am more entitled to watch when I know that no one is watching me.  I stare at the man a little bit closer and I notice something about him.  He looks like someone that I know.  I look a little bit harder and I see that it is my husband.  He is playing with a long dark haired girl in plain sight in front of me!  What a jerk!  I can feel anger rush through my body.  I start, silently, paddling the boat a little bit closer to the shore.  I notice that the girl is someone that I know too.  It is my sister!  Oh, I’ll kill them both!  I have my hand on my flare gun as I paddle a little closer.  Something pulls at me to look at the basket, so I do.  I noticed that something is coming for it – something that is not hungry for just that basket!  I see a twelve foot alligator splash up on the basket, swallow it whole and start looking around for some more food.  He looks at my husband and my sister on the blanket.  I panic and scream to them.  They both ignore me, like I’m not even there.  I scream again, notice the alligator getting closer.  I see him slowly walk up and nibble on my sister.  He takes off her right leg at the shin and in another quick swoop, takes my husband’s left arm.  I reach the shore and shoot the beast with my flare gun.  He slowly backs up and I grab my oar.  I start swinging as hard as I can.  Do you know how tough an alligator’s skin is?  He looks at me and laughs almost; I mean I can feel that is what he would’ve done.  He opens his mouth and the last thing I remember is the blood squirting around me as he chomps down.

Ugh – Awoke one more time with cold sweats and horror.  This time my arms were sore like I’d actually been fighting for my life!  Why would any normal person want to go through with this?  I force myself to stay awake or to sleep just long enough that I can’t dream.  In case you didn’t know, if you only sleep for 4 hours or less, you can’t dream – you don’t have time to dream.  You just have to learn to time yourself.  I do a great job, usually, waking up before I get there.  This is a task that I’ve had to train myself to do; train myself for numerous years.  However, there are nights when I am so exhausted that I can’t wake myself up.  These are the nights that I dream.

I’m standing in the middle of the street in my nightgown.  I have no idea where I am or where I am going – I am just walking.  I’m just slowly walking down the dark street in the fog.  I look around everywhere, frantic to find out where I am.  There is nothing familiar at all about my surroundings.  I am nervous – alone – vulnerable.  I hear noises on the sides of me in the dark woods.  I don’t know if someone is following me or if there are animals in there.  I bite my lip, wrap my arms around my body and keep walking.  I walk a little bit faster with every noise that I hear.  All of a sudden, a man jumps out of the woods.  He stops in front of me in the road.  ‘I hear you are alone.  Would you like some company?’  He is a tall, dark-haired man that is wearing a snow suit.  I don’t feel cold, but I feel my heart beating so hard – almost like it’s going to jump out of my chest.  I guess the rush of adrenaline is keeping me warm.  I stare at him for a few minutes without saying anything.  I can feel his dark brown eyes burning a hole through my insides.  ‘Who are you?’ I finally manage to speak.  He doesn’t answer me – he just keeps staring, drool starts running out of the left side of his mouth.  I am really starting to get nervous now.  I take my eyes off of him and look around, desperate to find someone to help me or somewhere to run.  There is no way that I am going in the woods!  I slowly swallow and look back towards him.  This time, he is right in my face.  I scream and he grabs me.  His hands are rough and strong – his eyes never leave mine.  ‘You can scream all you want, little lady.  No one is out here to hear you.  I am the only one that can help you.’  I can feel my heart beat faster, sweat beading up on my forehead.  I can’t help but stare back at him.  Something overcomes me and I smile.  He turns his head sideways and I say ‘I guess tonight is going to be a long night.’  He is kind of shocked, but he easily lets me go.  He motions over to the side of the road and I vaguely see lights shining in the distance.  ‘That’s my house over there.  Why don’t you follow me and we’ll get you a blanket or something.’  I don’t know what else to do – I’m alone in the dark with a stranger.  He starts walking and I follow him, closely behind, trying not to think of the walk in the woods.  I can feel myself breathing hard and trying to fight back the tears of helplessness.  I just want to cry.  I know that I can’t though – I have to find a way to get home.I follow him into the house and I can instantly feel the warmth of the fire.  I sit down on the couch in front and the man brings me a nice fluffy blanket.  ‘Do you live alone?’ I ask him, somehow afraid that I already know the answer to that question.  ‘Yes – for fifteen years now.  I’ve been alone ever since my wife left me.’  I look over the fireplace and see a few pictures – some are of him and his wife and there are a few others of a little girl.  ‘Is that your daughter?’ ‘Yes, ma’am.’  He seemed very friendly now, quite unlike the strong man that had grabbed me in the street earlier.  He brings me some snacks – cheese and crackers and a glass of milk.  I thank him and begin to eat my snack.  He is sitting on the couch beside me, not talking now, just smiling.  I start to feel a little dizzy – so I ask to lie down.  He gets up immediately and disappears.  He comes back in the room holding a long hand-saw.  He says, ‘Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.’  When I come to – I am strapped to a wooden table in a shed f some sort – completely naked – as he is fixing his tools beside me.  I scream for help, but of course, it does no use.  I watch him in horror as he begins to sink the hand-saw into my right thigh.  When it is missing, the screaming stops, but the cutting doesn’t.  He takes off my left arm under the elbow, my left foot, and my right fingers.  None of the patterns make sense to me – but neither does being tied and dismembered.  I slowly look up at his face and he is smiling – a sick and evil smile – a smile that makes my stomach churn.  I feel myself slowly drifting away and then everything goes black.

I wake up a bit confused, but very glad that I did wake up.  How can such thoughts go through a person’s mind – especially a person that has never been diagnosed with a psychological disease?  Is it a daily ritual?  Do I like to visualize myself being tortured or it is just death that stays on my mind?  Am I scared of it?  Is that why I see it so much and so often?  I don’t know why, but I just know that I cannot fall asleep!  I run to the coffee pot, brew the strongest blend I can find, and sit down in front of the TV.  How can a normal person be so abnormal?  I even shock myself sometimes.  Watching TV makes me so tired so I try to avoid it.  Once I actually sit down and be still, I am asleep in an instant.

 The alarm goes off.  I awaken in my bed.  I thought I had fallen asleep in front of the TV.  I sit up, turn off the clock, and look around.  This is definitely my room.  How did I get here?  Am I awake or asleep?  The dreams are so real that I cannot ever tell the difference.  I get up and get dressed – the same routine that I have every morning.  I have to work today so I wear my nice business clothes.  I reach in the closet to get my shoes and all of a sudden, the floor disappears.  I am falling through the blackness – unsure of where I am going or what is going on.  However; I know I am dreaming now.  In the real world, floors don’t just disappear.  I look around, squinting, trying to make out something, anything in all the darkness.  My eyesight is perfect although I usually have on my glasses.  I look around again and I see a small speck of something glowing in the distance.  I am still falling, but I know, in dream world, you can do anything that you choose to do.  I start swimming in the air over to the glowing spot.  As I get closer, the glow gets bigger and brighter.  I keep on heading in that direction.  Just as soon as the light gets so bright that I can barely even see, I hit something.  It doesn’t hurt at all – but I am now standing on the ground.  The ground is glowing.  The trees are glowing.  Even the buildings are glowing.  My eyes grow wide as I look around.  What is going on here?  Where am I?  The whole place is empty and I slowly start seeing what is going on around me.  I look behind me and I see me.  Only I am not there, I am here.  Now my nerves start getting the best of me.  I cannot be there.  I am here.  I even shout, “I am here,” as loud as I possibly can.  I see a doctor and two nurses surrounding me.  I am apparently lying there, on a stretcher in the street of my hometown.  There are people all around as the doctor and the nurses shake their heads over me in the middle of the street.  Am I dead?  What is going on?  I look back at the glowing village and I see something in the distance.  Something dark.  Something cloudy.  I look back at myself as the doctor covers my head with a white sheet.  I am dead.  What?  How can this be?  I was on the couch watching TV in my own house – now I’m in the middle of the street AND dead.  Wow.  All of this drama could really drive someone to drink.  I look back at the dark cloud in the distance.  It is growing, ever so slowly.  I swallow hard.  I start looking around again for a way to escape.  I don’t know what is in the darkness, but I am scared and I want no part of it.  I step on the street beside myself and slowly tiptoe to the side.  I wave and scream at my friends but they cannot hear me or see me.  I am a ghost.  The very thought of that makes my soul shiver.  I guess I am a soul now, right?  Isn’t that my body laying there on the street?  I want to scream.  I want to cry.  But most of all, I want to see my daughter.  What will happen to her now that I am? … All of a sudden, I am standing in my daughter’s room.  She is looking at pictures in her scrapbook – pictures of me and her when she was a baby.  I remember taking these pictures.  Just looking at them still warms my heart.  I see the pictures and I see the pain in her eyes.  I am torn up on the inside.  How can I cause her so much pain?  I thought she wanted me to die by the way she was acting lately.  I guess she really does love me.  Teenagers have a hard time showing how they feel – I mean they are trying to find out who they are and who they can be without relying on mom and dad.  I feel awful.  I’ve never felt so bad in my life.  Her tears are making me shed tears – and I didn’t even know that ghosts could shed them.  I try to reach out to her – to let her know that I am alright – but she feels cold, distant, so far away.  How could this happen?  Boom.  I am in the darkness.  I can feel eyes on me.  I can feel them watching me.  “Who’s there?” I stammer.  My only response is more aggravation because the things are watching me in the dark.  I reach in my pocket, dig out my lighter, and strike it.  There is a dull glow now in the darkness.  I slowly let my eyes adjust from the sudden light and I see the things.  They are horrible things.  They are just standing there, eyes wide, staring at me.  There is drool coming out of their hideous mouths.  There are dirt stains on their faces.  There are tattered clothes on their bodies.  I don’t know who they are – but I know they are not friendly.  I am frightened all the way down to my core.  I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know if I should get rid of the light and hope they go away or if I should talk to them.  What do they want from me?  I feel a touch on my shoulder and I turn ever so slowly to see one of the things about an inch from my face.  My whole body shivers with fear.  “You are the one we have been searching for,” it said.  “The one with the excellent power to leave your body behind.  We need you.”  I didn’t know what to do – only stare at it.  How could these things need me?  “Why me?” was the only response that I could muster up.  “You can teach us.”

Woah!  Up again at 3am.  But I awaken on the couch in my living room.  Is it possible to be asleep and wake up in a dream?  Is it possible that I am dreaming now?  I cannot tell the difference anymore.  One world coincides with the other one now.  How can I possibly face another day with these situations?  I am still shaking from the fear in the dream.  The things face is burned into my memory.  Hey, at least I’m not dead.  But sometimes I wonder if that choice would be the easier one.  I make some more coffee, shake off the dream, and go about my day of being mom and wife.

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