I'm pretty sure I've said this before, but horror movies don't scare me. However, if I dream a horror movie type nightmare, I WILL get scared. I guess my own imagination is pretty good at horror stories. It could be a sign that I'm writing in the wrong genre.
I'd say the only other person who can scare me with their nightmares is Winnie the Pooh. Seriously: Heffelumps and Woozles? - Scary as hell!
And now that I've distracted you with that, I'll get on with my own story. I don't have any pictures depicting my night or nightmare. Thanks god.
Let me give you a warning that this story cracks me up (now), and I hope it wasn't just a funny situation in my head to make myself feel better.
I am pretty sure I fell asleep quickly. Before going to bed, I first watched Spanglish with Clint, and then read a bit of my book. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I had a nightmare. I can't remember the exact details, but I'm sure it's a dream I've had before. That in itself makes me mad. There is nothing worse than a dream you know you've had before that you can't quite get out of. In this dream, people I know were being murdered. On purpose, for me to find. Obviously on purpose, but with the purpose to make my life hell. I just kept finding people. I think I knew who it was that was torturing me. (Sorry for the look into my twisted mind, this isn't the funny part). I finally woke up before the next victim was discovered, and I was freaked out.
I had a drink of water, thinking it would calm me down, but then I thought a trip to the bathroom might help as well. Keep in mind, I have TERRIBLE eye sight, and never bother putting on my glasses.
I looked over at my closet, and was freaked out because I was sure I had closed it, and it looked open. I slowly slipped out of bed and to the door. I turned on the light outside my room (in the living room). I don't usually do that, I usually just make my way to the washroom in the dark, but I wanted to make sure nobody was there. (BELIEVE ME, THIS REACTION IS EXCESSIVE!) The coast was clear, so I went into the washroom.
As I was making my way out, I looked over my shoulder towards the stairs (I live in a basement suite for the next week), and saw a coat hanging up. Well, I flipped out! I was sure it was a person, and gasped and jumped in fright. My heart was beating a ridiculous speed, and I ran for my room after shutting off the light.
I ran STRAIGHT into the bedroom door. My toe hit it first, luckily. I'd like to say this was the first time I've run into a door... it wasn't. The first time after a nightmare though.
It made a loud thud as I hit it, which of course, woke Clint up (as well, most likely woke the people upstairs). He asked what was wrong, and I ran to the bed, and into his arms while crying about my bad dream and running into the door because I imagined something scary. It's a silly situation, but it didn't stop me from being scared. C just snuggled up next to me with his arms around me, and I'm pretty sure the ONLY reason I got back to sleep (after a while) was because of him.
I am not positive that I've ever reacted that badly to a dream. I usually wake up, and I'm still freaked out, but I know it's just a dream. Sometimes, I'm scared to go back to sleep in case my CRAZY imagination decides to continue the dream, but I don't usually jump at jackets.
Believe me when I say, this story was NOT funny last night. It wasn't until I woke up and thought about the situation, and shared it with a co-worker that I realised how funny it was.
So that's my entry for today. No writing prompts, no blog prompts, and nothing about writing other than the fact that I'm writing a post.
Hope you enjoyed the insight into my mental health.
And as always:
©ErinLeahMcCrea All photos I share on my blogs are my own, please Ask Me For Permission Before Using Them.