Substance

Dreams are still very much a mystery to the human race, no one can confidently say what they truly represent.

Substance

 

When I was a child I had a dream, this dream never made sense growing up. Standing alone in a dark room I would find myself in pain, crying for my loved ones to show the care and attention I craved. But as I was asleep it would never come, the darkness stabbing my sides with needle like prods. I could hear laughter all around me, daring me to fight back to get angry. Images of violence and death raped my thoughts; these thoughts were dreams within nightmares violating the wonderful dreams I would start out with.

 

I'd be sitting in the park eating ice creams in the sun with my family, enjoying the laughter and the beautiful scenery, everything seemed perfect only to be shattered by screams and terrible scratching that hurt when you listened making your brain feel like it was melting inside. Looking around I would see the most horrific acts being done by people that were supposed to be respected and loved by one another, things no child should see. I would cry and turn to my mother only to find her being defiled by someone who resembled my father but had taken the form of a wicked horned creature with razor sharp teeth, biting and scratching while my mother cried out in pain and anguish only to turn to me and laugh at my horror. I would see old Mr Peterson next door hitting and grabbing at Bernie the terrier that would bite back angrily as old Peterson performed acts of cruelty that should never be told.

 

These nightmares would accrue every night, stealing my dreams while forcing me to endure these terrifying dream state realities. The older I got the dreams felt more real, I would wake up only when my physical body could take no more. When I reached my late teens I created names for the dreams, the same nightmare might accrue once every couple of months; they would change dramatically one night then become worse the next, only for the setting to change within what felt like a minute. I could wake from a nightmare one second, to drift off and find myself in another setting but the same horrific acts being done by different people or different creatures.

It was by my 21^st birthday did I really start to name these acts and stories that would spill out and portray themselves to me, the fisting of the beast or the gang bang of the elderly, the violation of the young, the satisfying of the wicked. All through my youth I managed to hide these occurrences, seeing them as an evil I would be blamed for, conjuring up worrisome thoughts of nut houses and the disappointing looks from my parents, only for them to slowly disappear through the glass that may one day separate us.

 

When I had a note pad filled with my documentations only then did I began to seek medical advice, this was to bring no success, always being turned away with drugs. I tried for months but the dreams became hallucinations, I couldn't tell if dreams were reality and reality my nightmares, only when I sought to go to the church did I find my answer. I went to Father Brian Cranston, as I walked up the church steps I was shocked to find him already waiting for me. He rambled of a dream he had as a child, of how he would save a young man in need of the lord. He said the devil had taken this child as a plaything and would torture him till his last days and when his soul was his he would use him as a bargaining tool to take the heavens and the earth from the lord god. I could not believe this nonsense but the evidence seemed to be decisive, what was I to do? I had no other option but to ask for his help.

 

The next morning I went back to the church, Father Cranston was nowhere to be seen. I searched everywhere I could, I shouted, I screamed I most likely scared the pigeons nesting away but still no sign of Cranston. Upset and demoralised I went home and ran a bath, by this point I was feeling very low and quite tired. In those days I rarely slept as to try and keep away from my dreams, I went to the bathroom mirror to take some of my prescriptions, maybe they will help I thought. Not looking at the packet I took one, then another and another until the whole box was empty. I climbed into the bath and that’s all I remember. You have to let me out, please let me out. Please, I'm fine.

Dr Michael Eichmann

 

Patient 10079

 

Interview 17

 

The patient is still in recovery; signs of delusion and schizophrenia are still very much evident in the patients’ behaviour. Up dosage to 800mg, padded cell needed.

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Douglas White]

This story interested me because of the surreal, nightmarish quality of the writing. I think that this could be played with a little more, using form to make it a bit more surreal. (Breaking paragraphs in half in the middle of a sentence, or even mid-word, using a jerky stop-start inside of some paragraphs, not in others, etc.) This could actually be done without changing a single word of the writing – I’d like to see the results.

The only other suggestion I would make is to add more details to the Doctor’s review (circumstances of breakdown, how the patient arrived, the physical condition of the patient, initial findings, and what medications are initially prescribed. ), which would give you an opportunity to contrast the nightmare with a description of reality. I’d take the time to research the medications, and get some opinions from medical professionals on what would be used to calm the patient. (one of the “WebMD” kind of websites would be your best bet, or just stop by a hospital and see if you can grab a nurse for a few minutes.)

It may seem a little overboard to do all this for just a short story, but there are quite a few very successful books and movies that started with just a short story before blossoming into something much bigger. And also, no knowledge is ever wasted.

[Dreamer]

Very deep and meaningful. Many can relate with this.
Would it be crazy if I said that this piece if work brought tears to my eyes?
Lovely work Jake (:

[Jake Dyson]

Thank you for the review, I'm glad you liked it so much :) No many things touch us in different ways and it is a sad but scary story. Again thank you for reading.

[Dreamer]

You're welcome, I enjoyed reading it!