The Runaway: A Stray Souls Story, Entry #5

Man, last night was a total nightmare. And I’m not talking about those run-of-the-mill bad dreams. No, this was next-level freaky stuff.

You know how some folks can supposedly control their dreams? They call it lucid dreaming, but let me tell you, it ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. Not for me, at least.

I’d just wrapped up a grueling day at work, dealing with the usual fussy customers and then enduring a never-ending inventory session. I got home around 10 pm, looking forward to some leftover lasagna and a cold glass of iced tea. But something about that full moon man, it’s like people go wild when it’s out. Who knows, maybe that’s what set off this crazy dream.

I don’t even remember falling asleep. I was watching “The Wizard of Oz,” and Dorothy was stepping into this technicolor world when, BAM, I was somewhere else entirely.

Now, I’ve mentioned before how some memories from my past life can feel incredibly vivid, but this was on a whole other level. I couldn’t place the surroundings, but they felt uncomfortably familiar. Even the smell – wet soil with a metallic tang – felt like it had seared itself into my nose.

I knew I was underground; it was pitch dark. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, and I could make out these looming pillars, stretching up into the abyss. In the distance, there were muffled sounds of someone struggling.

I moved toward them, quick, like I had to free them or something. But then, outta nowhere, I heard choking from below me. I looked down, and there it was – me, strangling the person on that stone altar. She was young, dark hair, and her face? It rang a bell but couldn’t place it…

How the heck did I get here? What was I even doing? These thoughts raced as my grip tightened, but it was like I had no control over my body. I was just watching myself commit this gruesome act.

Next thing I knew, their throat gave way, and I felt sick. I leaned over the altar and puked my guts out. And then, I wasn’t there anymore.

I stood at the door of this old house, holding keys in my cold hands. My other arm did its thing and rang the doorbell. From inside, someone muttered, “That was fast,” and without thinking, I dropped the keys through the crack.

My body turned to leave, but just like that, I was somewhere else – a park back in Aspen Falls. Dark sky, rain pouring, lightning flashing. And there it was, something massive lumbering toward me, grunting and groaning. Looked like a flesh heap that used to be a person.

Then I heard it—a guttural, unnatural grunting and groaning, growing louder as something colossal approached. I was paralyzed, unable to move as the grotesque figure drew nearer and nearer, shambling toward the gazebo where I stood.

Just as it was about to set foot in the gazebo, I woke up.

My body felt exhausted, drenched in sweat, and my stomach churned with unease. As I rolled out of bed, my foot landed in something warm and slimy. My own vomit. At least part of that nightmare had been real.

I decided it was high time to write down these experiences. I usually couldn’t recall my dreams, but this one was different, hauntingly vivid. I couldn’t help but wonder if these nightmares were the cause of my year-long struggle, those sleepless nights filled with stress and sickness.

It felt like the right time to put these experiences on paper, maybe even purge them for good. Who knows? Perhaps this will finally put an end to these night terrors and strange occurrences.