Some Personal Nightmares and Dark Landscapes

In my younger years, it was an odd thing, but in times of stress I dreamed about zombies. Not the pleasant “hey, let’s dress up like zombies and stagger around the mall” on Saturday kind, but night-sweat, run like hell, sorts of dream zombies. Perhaps it is not so odd, being a horror fan and all that, but it was still disturbing all the same.

Usually, the zombies were lying in wait in some dark place I knew I should not enter. Either a basement or hallway or a road I was driving lost on. The bad situation was like a movie cliche that repeats itself with a bit of new set dressing and characters each time, except for the zombies and the overwhelming fear that eventually forces me awake. What causes this fear is still a mystery to me. A clear case for psychoanalysis for sure.

It all started in my teens, intermittently at first, occurring more often until a sort of closure dream ended it for a long time. That recurring dream was either a door to a weird-looking house, or the opening to a dark cave, or a door to a room down a long hall. There were no zombies then, only an omnipresent fear that where I found myself I should not be, and what lay behind the door or in the dark cave should not be seen.

This went on for a long time too. I did not sleep then nearly as much as I do now, but still it made sleep an often nerve-tingling experience. Each time I seemed to be a little closer to reaching the doorknob or entering the cave, but each time the fear took control, forcing me awake to avoid it; unreasoning fear, visceral fear, a fear only the chaotic subconscious or dark Thanatos could wield so potently.

And then one night it stopped in this way. The closed door, this time, led into a large dark house with many windows. I stood outside, looking up at the windows, then looking down at the door. It opened! I froze. From one of the windows a man dressed all in black, and wearing a top-hat, suddenly leaned out and shouted to me “it’s showtime!” He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, holding a skinned torso in his arms. He began to toss it down to me. Instead of the fear that had so often forced me awake, this time it forced me to run through the open door. Now here is where it gets really weird.

Entering the house suddenly placed me on a sloping, mountainside path. It was dusk, and snow started to fall, dusting the path. I was alone at first, but a man, dressed in a gray robe and holding a staff, from which a yellow lantern glowed, started walking up the path toward me. I could hear bells as he came closer.  When  he passed me without a word, I felt the need to follow him. I did. We continued walking in silence. The snow grew heavier, and his lantern glowed more brightly with each step we took up the mountain path. Suddenly, his lantern glowed a very bright white light, filling my vision until there was this–the best way I can describe it–pop. It was a feeling more than a noise, and I woke up with a feeling of complete peace. The fear, fostered by whatever lay behind those doors for so long, was gone, and did not return; until my later years.

Now, I dream of being on a strange train or bus going in the wrong direction or trying to make a connection but I keep getting on the wrong train or bus, suddenly stranding me in an unknown place: a weird seaside part of a city or a street with lots of cars but no taxis and no public transportation, where everything is closing and night is coming, and I have this urgent need to find safety.

Of course, there’s the other nightmare I have now and then, where I’m in some public place like a mall and need a bathroom, but there aren’t any, so I keep searching and searching. But being older, I think those dreams have more to do with my prostate than my pysche.

So, what nightmares are you having? Sleep much?