Somewhere between stringing thoughts, I found myself as a boy, hallucinating on shadows, seeing stuff just because my eyes were tired. I must've been crazy then, to subconsciously pursue such things. A young boy such as myself, constantly stressed out in sleep, having a long persistent chain of bad dreams usually ends up being a pretty fucked up kid. Madness. This happened to me for a short while though, enough time to go bonkers. It was two long months and a little more. It all happened cause my uncle had told me some amazingly true stories that scared me to death at an Atlantic Ocean beach where we camped. That night when I went to bed, I saw figures in the dark through my tent window, like demons or something. Things like this never let me sleep. Afterwards I knew it was pure hallucination. In the two months that came after, just being in my top bunk bed and looking out my window made me hallucinate pretty freaky shit; the boats, the empty street, the white walls on the buildings and their shadows. I just let the same string of thoughts go over and over again in my head. Seeing all this shit just scared me and told me nothing useful. These hallucinations were all evil beings haunting me with no God around to comfort me. I prayed and cried a lot and sometimes, I felt stronger. I would overcome it and then manage to fall asleep, but I dreamt of shit that hurt me and made me sweat.
Now I find myself in those nights again. Everybody that died seems to be flying around all over the place. I'm seeing stuff in the shadows of the things in my room, and they are definitely trying to tell me something. I guess that everything is now up to the worst. Maybe I'm just paranoid about my dad waking up and asking me where I was. Yes, I'm just scared of seeing him come in here and start screaming like hell. I'm here in my top bunk bed actually relaxing after remembering the nightmarish vacation I had back then. I remember that in those times, I was so afraid to sleep that I used to watch the security guard of a distant building to not feel alone. I then dreamt with him and talked to him. Many times I flew around him, climbing on the walls as he watched with wonder from his watch post. I used to cry a lot too. Maybe I did it to wake somebody up and not be the only one awake, but they never woke up. I bet they did but pretended to be asleep. They wouldn't know what to say anyways.
I'm enjoying the window reflections on the ceiling that come about when cars go by. The orange reflection is still and is created by a street lamp; the yellow reflection spins around the orange one and is created by passing cars. Suddenly my dad walks in the room and starts saying in his typical pissed off manner:
-"Where have you been"
I act to be wide-eyed awake, but in fact, I am dozed off in my regular high-as-hell, super-awareness dream trip sleep.
-"I went to the movie theater at the university but it was closed so I rented a movie and we watched it."
-"Where's the movie"
-"There, on the desk."
My father turns on the small desk lamp and finds the blockbuster bag. He takes out both movies and then he takes out a Deicide CD from the bag. The CD is there because my friend had wanted me to borrow it. At this point I can only say that "Serpents of The Light" fell into the wrong hands. The album's anti-my-dad's-religion artwork reaches his eyes and injects them red with over-reacting fury. He tears it apart easily and then a half burned joint that was well hidden between the CD case's plastics falls on the desk. I might as well be dead.
The movie I rented was "Nightmare on Elm Street III: Dream Warriors." I watched that movie when I was seven or eight in the house of an old pipe smoking, bonsai enthusiastic, retired shrink magician mycologist friend of my dad's that lived in the town where we had a weekend house. I had just come out on HBO and this guy had the big antennas and the expensive TV satellite company plan to see it. I watched it alone in a hammock by the river. I had asked my mom and dad permission to stay over a while when night fell so I could experience my first HBO flick. It sure scared the fuck out of me.
As I got older, scary movies just stopped scaring me, but one thing that scares me shitless nowadays is my dad coming in my room at night. I've only dreamt with it about a hundred times already.