Strange dreams

This is not fiction. Surprisingly.

As I've mentioned in the daily journals for the past several days, I've been having some strange dreams lately. They play out as a movie to begin with -- I'm sitting with my friends, and watching a movie. This morning, it was about a traveler from the future leaving a message to the past in Tokyo about making the right choices, and how choosing wrong would end human existence pretty much. There's crashing human-carrying drones, lasers that can push people around, etcetera. And then it morphs into my reality, I somehow get involved in it. When I'm changing to get ready for action in my room, I discover people have been hiding many years worth of their crap they didn't have anywhere to store in, under my bed. I'm not sure if it includes dead bodies, I'm too afraid to ask or look under there to check. That's around when I realize the dream is too stressful, too suspenseful for me, and I start wishing the dream ended, right in my sleep. Earlier this morning I remember telling myself 'ahh not again, this dream repeats over and over and so intense. I want to watch something else, brain', and then I go to this waiting room kind of place where I'm made to wait. My alarm usually wakes me up from that.

The more interesting thing there is that I'm beginning to fear I've been seeing the same dream over and over again. I can almost fast forward through some parts to get to where I last left it seems. Not true obviously, but it seems like that.

This reminds me of a very memorable dream series I used to have as a child. We were living in Chitwan then. I remember I'd wake up every night in cold sweats, and begin complaining -- don't think I ever cried, maybe I did once -- and my parents would try putting me back to sleep. I'd roam around the house for a while until I tired myself out, went back to sleep.

It was about these demons. They were all about carrying people, turning them around, and thrashing them back to the ground. Somewhat like wrestlers. This was in a hellish landscape, everything black and grey-red. The demons themselves were quite strange looking -- all alien-like, with arms and legs stretched thin and the power to thrash people easily. What impressed me even them -- I'm surprised how vividly I remember this -- was the ease with which they carried people and threw them around, as if they weighted nothing. They took turns thrashing me. And this wasn't even the scary part yet. I'd get scared and get up when they got tired of their thrashing around, and expanded their mouths like elastic to show their giant, sharp teeth, and laughed menacingly. This strange demonic cackle that would scare me more than all the physical torture they had put me through. I started getting fevers every night I saw those dreams and my parents got quite worried. The dreams went away when the fever went away, they took me to a pediatrician to make sure everything was ok with me. It got better, and these events began fading from memory.

Strange times, strange dreams. I'm sure these dreams will start changing soon. I'm not even being paranoid.

Maybe my brain's realizing I've been writing a lot lately, and trying to come up with strange ideas and scenarios to seed other things into my head. If that's the case, thanks brain, wuuv you.

Writing idea: Someone like me writes a journal every day, and suddenly start mentioning strange dreams. Those dreams get more and more visceral and start seeping into daily life. The journals themselves start getting more and more confused and messy, but third-person narration starts, describing the devolving of a reasonable man and a wannabe writer to an absolute crank.