your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions

Last night as I slept, I dreamt that I was lying in bed at my grandfather's house. I couldn't have been any older than nine or ten at the time...or so it seemed, judging from the weight of my awkward limbs and weakened frame. As I lay awake in bed, I felt a sense of uneasiness come over me. I rose from my twisted sheets and made my way to the front door. Turning and sliding open the various locks, I gently pushed the door forward and peered out into the darkness. Through the fog that hung heavy in the night air, I could make out the shape of two figures...arms outstretched...as if they were being crucified right in front of me. I yelled out, shouting to the beasts that I could see them...as if that would make all the difference. Confident yet cowardly, I went back into bed, but the uneasiness continued to lay with me. Once again, I cautiously opened the door, but slammed it shut almost instantly. My mind was filled with images of gnarled teeth and tattered clothes...a nightmare within a nightmare. I ran from the door, collapsing into bed, heaping blanket upon blanket over my body. Although I couldn't see a thing, I knew the figures would see the movement in the shadows, the drawing of breath within the bed, the sweat seeping through the sheets...and fear began to worm its way through.

I have slept night after night with the same visions plodding through my head. The faces and places change...but the fear remains the same. Every night I am chased and hunted...an animal awaiting its execution. Some mornings when I awake, I search my body for bruises and gashes...seeking out evidence that the nightmares I am cursed with exist not only in my mind. Because fear of this nature has to leave its mark somewhere...