A Dream Come True by J.S. Douglas

My friend and newsletter subscriber Tami gave me a writing prompt of “alone in the dark.” It made me think of the podcast “Are You Sleeping?” and the recent episode they aired called “Sleep and the Supernatural.” It’s an episode about sleep paralysis. It’s both terrifying and fascinating, so I thought it could be interesting to write about.

Also, I wanted to be sure to give credit for the picture. It’s The Nightmare by Henry Fueseli

Here’s the story!

A Dream Come True

By J.S. Douglas

“Jennifer,” a voice whispered.

My eyes shot open and darted around the dark room. Nothing but blackness and vague shapes. 

I tried to move, to sit up, but my limbs felt heavy.  Maybe my body was still asleep, and only my brain was awake. Or maybe I was dreaming.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to take a calming breath. As I inhaled, a weight landed on my chest, forcing all of the air out in one great whoosh.

“Jennifer.”

I could feel hot breath on my face now.

Should I open my eyes?

It’s just a dream, I told myself. There’s no one here.

Opening my eyes again, I saw the face. The one that had haunted my dreams night after night for the past week. Skeletal and white, cheeks drawn into hollows, and lips thin around a mouth of needlelike teeth.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I strained to draw another breath. I tried moving my arms to push the thing off me. I worked at bucking with my hips and legs. Nothing moved. My body lay still and placid.

A bony hand stroked my brow. 

“Jennifer,” crooned the thing, making my name a song. The weight on my lungs increased as the face moved closer to mine. 

Mouth flapping open like a fish, I tried to gasp. A wheeze of air escaped my lips, and my vision narrowed. All I could see were teeth as darkness rushed in. Then, blackness.

I woke up to my alarm’s chirp, feeling as if I hadn’t slept a wink. My limbs moved normally; lungs breathed easily. Stiff and sore from sleep, I stumbled through the predawn darkness and flipped on the light. It was time for yoga, a shower, breakfast, then off to work. My weekday routine. 

After a half hour of long, slow breaths and energizing stretches, I felt better about the bad dreams from the night before. Just night terrors. Just sleep paralysis. Just my body fighting to sleep on a regular schedule after years of night shifts.

The shower was hot and steamy, melting away the last of my anxiety. 

Until I dried myself off and put on my glasses. That’s when I noticed them. Five button-sized bruises ran from below my collarbone, down my chest, and over my abdomen.

Rushing to the mirror, I frantically wiped the steam from the glass to get a better look. There they were, small black and purple circles in a crooked row.

“Jennifer,” the voice echoed in the tile bathroom.

“Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer,” it chanted.

I ran from the bathroom, still nude as I sprinted down the stairs and grabbed my gym bag. 

A thin, white figure blocked the front door. Teeth bared and hands clawed.

It had finally happened. My dreams, come true. 

I ran for the back door, pushing and pulling before remembering it was locked. Fumbling hands released the locks. Frantic legs propelled me through the back door and into the yard. 

Running around the side of the house to the driveway, I had to pause and search for the spare set of keys I kept in the bag. They were there, right where I’d left them, but they were ensconced in a mesh pocket that caught on each notch and curve of the keys. I ripped the mesh as I  grabbed up the ring and pulled. The keyring bent around my finger, but the keys and car key fob came loose. 

Opening the door, I jammed myself in. It took only a moment to slam the door and lock it. I waited in the car for what felt like an hour, watching the house for that thing. That waking nightmare.

Finally, my heartbeat slowed. I opened the gym bag and slid on the sports bra and yoga pants inside.

“Jennifer,” whispered a voice from the back seat. I looked in the rearview mirror. There it sat, buckled in and ready for a ride. 

“Jennifer,” it said in a voice filled with longing, reaching out with spindly fingers.

Closing my eyes, I felt the small hairs on the back of my neck raise. 

“You’re not real,” I said. 

“Jennifer,” it sounded disappointed.

I took a deep yoga breath and found my center. When I opened my eyes again, it was gone.

—

The End

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