I had a nightmare tonight. I'm actually up and blogging because I'm trying to distract myself from it. So far, no luck, but my mother always says it helps to talk about it, so here I am.

In my nightmare my mother is dead, somehow, and my father and sister and I are together, plus two little boys. I'm not sure if they're my boys, or just boys I'm taking care of, but they're with us. We've moved somewhere up north, in the middle of nowhere, in a two-story log cabin. There is snow everywhere. Next to us there is a random hamburger drive-in, but other than that, there is nothing.

In my nightmare we've just moved in and we've for some reason hired a live-in housekeeper. She is pretty and plump and blonde. She arrives on our first day and sets to work on cleaning our garage. That is where I find her, the next morning, slumped over, dead. She's been stabbed with something (in my nightmare I think it's a metal ruler of sorts).

Somehow we have a new housekeeper the next day. I'm not quite sure what happened with the body of the first one. But the new one is African American, tall, and slender. She is very young, around my age, and very sweet. Her first task is to complete the job that housekeeper #1 didn't--cleaning out the garage. The next morning I come downstairs into the garage and find her, too, slumped over in the exact same spot, stabbed, murdered, dead.

I remember at that point starting to panic. I run to check on the boys, my boys?, and they are fine, asleep in a little yellow room on beanbags. I find my father and tell him we've got to get out of here. He shows me his hand--he's been stabbed too, not a killing kind of stab, but almost like a warning--as if whoever killed our housekeepers would be back for him.

At that moment I see two police cars appear at the drive-in, but for some reason my father won't let me call out to him, or we can't call out to them, or something. But he goes upstairs to pack, and the little boys are still asleep, and my sister and I are packing downstairs.

It's at this point that I notice our front door and front wall of the house are primarily windows. I notice a man standing at the bottom of the stairs of our front porch, and he's carrying something. I can't remember if it was a gun or a weapon, but in my nightmare I know it was meant to kill us.

He sees my sister and me and calls out, "I need to speak to your father." I tell him that my father isn't available, and that he should try again later. (Years of answering the telephone at my house as a young child have trained me to say just that.) But that doesn't deter the man. I notice he has on a red plaid vest and blue jeans, as well as an unidentifiable shirt. As I sit here now, I'm trying to picture his face as I saw him in the nightmare, but I can't. The faces of the fathers of several of my friends run through my head instead.

The man walks closer toward our house. As he steps foot on our bottom stair, I really panic. "DAD!" I remember calling, "I NEED YOUR HELP!," but I am frustrated because my voice is not loud enough, he can't hear me. The man is at our front door now, and my sister and I are crouching on the floor huddled together. The man lifts the object to break our window, and BOOM, I wake up.


In retrospect, it's another situation in which I cannot protect those I love. My mother is gone in my nightmare, and I am the woman of the house (though in real life I'd never see it that way), and yet I cannot protect my father, sister, two little boys.


While in my nightmare I was sure I was going to die. I didn't, in this one, because I woke up before. But I have died in a nightmare. A man broke into my house midday with a gun. I remember being flat on the floor halfway in my kitchen and living room. My father was beside me, and was D, all on the floor. One by one he shot us all. My father was the first to die. I somehow knew my body would fail second, and though I felt no pain I remember vividly the few seconds before it happened. I remember reaching out and clutching D's hand and looking into her eyes, thinking how surreal it was--any second, I was going to be dead. Gone. No longer of this earth. In my mind in the nightmare I imagined it to be like a set of curtains closing, fading the scene in my head to black, and I'd be gone.

I remember telling D that I loved her, and then I died. I didn't wake up after the dream. I just remember a long blank period in my mind, a period of nothingness, as if I didn't exist. And then I suppose I dreamed some more, and eventually woke up, shaken and nauseated, as I am now.


My uncle is in town. He cries out in his sleep. Not cries, really...more like screams. Deep, intense screams that make me wonder if he's being hurt. I flinch every time. It scares me.


Carole said...

I had dreams like that for alot of years. Now because of medication I don't dream...or at least I don't remember them. Not sure how I feel about that.

And on another note...I tagged ya!

The Nanny said...

Thanks for tagging me. I promise to get to it tomorrow or the next day!

Allyson said...

I should have stopped reading once I got through the first paragraph. I am such a chicken and now you have me all scared.

The Nanny said...

Sorry, Allyson! I'm actually paranoid about this stuff a lot of the time, but I try not to let it get to me. I can usually shrug it off, but nightmares like this one really do freak me out.

Monica H said...

Wierd! I hope you have another dreamin which your housekeeper lives, so you can send her my way :-)