The Ghost

Sometimes I dream vividly. This can have advantages, but on rare occasions, the sheer depth of my nightmares can be revealed. I have had a reoccurring figure cross the boundaries of these nightmares, and it’s presence is unmistakable. I call this figure “The Ghost” because it conjures within me, a sense of the unknown, and supernaturally terrifying. I can’t see The Ghost, but I can feel it. It is typically represented by suffocating darkness. And it is always waiting for me, behind a closed door. One that I will open.

I will be keenly aware, in these nightmares, that I am walking slower than normal, everything is dragging. Everything is being pulled towards the door… which is just ahead. There is always a hallway, and a door at the end. It’s always closed. But The Ghost is behind there. I know it is. I can feel it back there. It terrifies me, to the fear of death. I am terrified that this thing is going to kill me. But. I keep walking… I reach out…

You really want to know why I’m walking down there with my muscles tight and my fists clenched? Because I’m so scared, in my dream, so scared I could almost be shaking and crying. As I get closer to the door, I keep moving my feet one step at a time, one after the other. BUT WHY? Because I’m saying to myself as I walk “you are brave, you are strong, you can do this, you can BEAT IT.” I think I am afraid, and fearlessly confronting something much greater than me, and much more powerful.

It’s still back there, and I’m touching the doorknob. It’s cold.

The Ghost is darkness, and when I open the door, it flies off the hinges and The Ghost is on me. It suffocates my body, ripping the air out of my lungs and crushing me. I’m asphyxiating. I can’t breathe. It’s killing me! The fucking Ghost is killing me! It’s so much stronger than I am, I can’t fight it. I came in there all brave, and It’s absolutely killing me, and I had no chance whatsoever. I am dying, and the incorporeal darkness of pure terror is watching the last gasps of life leave my body.

Then I wake up.

But do you get that while I was in my head  the dream, the Ghost was killing me, and I was dying, AND I COULD FEEL EVERY HORRIBLE SECOND OF IT, AND STILL REMEMBER WHAT IT FELT LIKE WHEN THE GHOST WAS KILLING ME. I felt scared, alone and powerless to stop it, no matter how much my little brave heart drove me to confront it. I had no chance. I had paid for my arrogance with death. Now I was awake, in bed, and chilled to the bone with fear.

I don’t quite understand what it is, or what it represents. It transcends the boundaries of dreams, and has been a key player in about 6 distinct nightmares. It seems to embody some part of my subconscious. It preys on my deepest animal fright, because the idea of being strangled by a ghost is, truly, incomprehensibly horrifying to me.  Hits my “I AM SCARED OF THAT” button. Every time. Frightened to my core. When I wake up, that WHOLE DAY is often obliterated, because I still feel like someone who has been emotionally poisoned in their brain somehow. It’s strange, I know. Not everyone will understand that someone could lose a whole day because of 1 nightmare… but it happens. And I remember. Keenly.

The Ghost is hard for me to talk about. I haven’t seen the ghost in over a year. I’m counting my blessings over this. The Ghost was a part of my first, and last major depressive cycles. The Ghost made my depression MUCH worse, and scared me very badly. I’m not sure if this will make any sense when I read it again, but I can’t really think how else to express it. I hope that’s clear.

Perhaps I will see The Ghost again, but I’d like to think it’s gone on to better things. Fingers crossed.

6 thoughts on “The Ghost

  1. I can relate in a way to this … I had a dream once… won’t go through the whole things cause I don’t like it either. But in a small portion of the dream before I woke up, I was staring into a mirror watching my face turn bloody, mangled and downright evil demon-ish like … I got so terrified in my dream, that while in my dream I screamed at the mirror, “In the name of Jesus Christ, leave me!” I woke up instantly, shot right up out of my bed. I believe my dream was demonic oppression and I believe I was heavily cutting at the time as well. You might believe yours is for different reasons, but reading just reminded me of the experience I had. :) Take care. You’re cool people. :)

    • WOW that sounds insane. Dreams are so strange… I find no usefulness in really “thinking” too hard about them. Dreams are pretty arbitrary. Just like a symptomatic day, or whatever. I just roll through it, or try…

    • Yeah. me too! I don’t forget THOSE sorts of nightmares. Burned in there. I’m just glad I don’t remember every insane dream I have… holy smokes, would THAT be no fun most of the time. Nightmares : Happy Dreams = 3 : 1

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