The Body

Type: dream imagery (non-lucid)

This dream was... probably one of the worst I've ever had in my entire life. Normally when I am terribly afraid in dreams, something will wake me up. My defense mechanisms kick in and they bring me out of it. But this time, I don't know; something just kept me sleeping, and so I had to endure it. It's been almost twenty-four hours since I woke up from this dream, so the details are a bit sketchy. I'll write what little I can remember.

My best friend's old house. Grannie was still alive. Andi had died somehow. We were having to endure the trauma of her passing and deal with selling her things, her part of the house. Two people paced about in business suits. They were going to go through the belongings and get the place ready to sell. Her room was full of garbage bags and a sickening stench permeated it. And yet only I knew why, and feared their discovery of the truth, which could have been at any moment.

She had committed suicide, and yet somehow had also been murdered. Her body had been desecrated, dismembered, her head severed. The rest of her was bound in garbage bags sitting next to the bed, on a dresser, at the bed's level. Her head, inexplicably healthy yet no longer animated, eyes open, mouth agape, seemed to stare at me no matter where I turned. I had had nothing to do with this; it had been some terrible person. And yet I could not let Grannie or these two people find her this way.

They were complaining of the stench. Funny how in dreams people are so oblivious to what is right in front of them, and only you seem to be able to see the obvious. I paced. I was terrified to go in that room, but someone had to keep them out.

She was with me, then, her spirit. As a ghost, she was with me. We were both terrified. We had to shut ourselves into that room so that they couldn't get in.

God, this is so fucking frightening.

They wouldn't leave, so we had to sleep there. We crawled into the bed. She was too afraid to sleep next to her own body, so I had to do it. Not a foot away from the crumpled, stinking heap of garbage bags, I slowly eased myself into the bed. My arms were trembling. I was so, so scared. Her face, her real face, stared blankly into space. I turned it away. I turned my back to her and closed my eyes, tried to pretend I was somewhere else, this all wasn't real. But the smell of the room made me sick to my stomach and I couldn't forget where I was.

We tried to sleep. The TV was on and we couldn't turn it off. The glow from the set cast a terrifying light on the room, on the bags. Andi's ghost had fallen asleep because I was there to make her feel safe, but I felt alone and petrified. Any moment I almost managed to fall asleep, a commercial on the TV—for a horror movie? Something scary with a piercing, terrifying scream—would come on and make me jump and squeak. This happened repeatedly until I realized that I could go into my head and block the commercial (like a webpage).

Something about an antique-style chocolate shop inside a lonely mall that had belonged to her and was now mine. I went there, glad to temporarily escape that room, but still felt an incredible weight on my spirit as if reminding me that I would eventually have to return and deal with her body.

I think I ended up burying it... perhaps with the person who dismembered her. When we did, she was completely gone. THAT fear, the fear of not even having her spirit around, is what finally scared me enough to wake up.

I fucking hate my dreams. I want this to stop.