I woke from a nightmare

Chapter: One: The Dream



Flash of light, the heat on my chest, loud bang, pain, terror, helplessness, agony…. POP-POP-POP-BANG


I awoke from a nightmare, grabbed my rib cage in agonizing pain certain that my guts had been ripped out. The sweat soaked sheets cling to my trembling body. My heart is pounding and my chest is heaving, I try to gather, and reassure myself that this was only a nightmare. It’s always the same dream.

I glance at the clock, damn 6:40 am; I may as well get up and prepare the coffee.

I have been plagued by nightmares most of my adult life. I remember being a freshman in high school; I began having trouble falling asleep. I would feel incredible anxiety most nights, tossing and turning for hours. When indeed I would start to drift, the first images of my 'between dream' would be of horrific figures inflicting pain on me. Primarily my brain, however sometimes my abdomen would be mutilated through my navel. I dreamt of being impaled with sharp instruments; I thought for sure my right bottom rib was removed forcibly.

Unbelievable horrors that today I see much clearer than I did back then. I struggled for approximately 2 ½ years with this, too paranoid to speak to anyone because I thought I was going insane. This had a major impact in my life. I stopped going to school, I stopped socializing with friends, I withdrew from family, and I lost about 60 lbs in the span on a year. Those close thought I was using drugs, but I wasn't. I was suffering and I could tell no one. What would I say? Who would believe me even if I did work up the courage to tell them what happened to me that night, what happened to all of us that night.


I tighten my tie and grab my keys for yet another day on the sales floor. Time to put on a plastic smile and garner enough fake enthusiasm to make it through yet another 12 hour day of convincing people to do things that perhaps they may not want to do. I give a quick wink to the man in the mirror and I exit my apartment locking the door behind me.

I’m usually lost in thought when I drive; it’s one of the only peaceful segments of my day. Today is no different. I’m thinking about being a kid in Las Vegas, not having a worry in the world (at least nothing compared to today’s worries), looking forward to going out every night and finding the perfect party, and the perfect people to party with. That reminded me of the night we pulled into a 7-11, wrapped the license plate up with a plastic bag, and calmly walked into the convenience store and took 4 cases of Budweiser and ran out. We did his all the time, but for some odd reason only one occasion came to me clearly.



It was the perfect plan: Jeff was driving (it was his car), Jason had shotgun, Keith, me, and Jason’s girl Theresa in the back. We were on the way to pick up Rick and his girl Stephanie and we were headed to the lakebed for a night of drinking. We all loved heavy music back then, Metallica’s ‘Master of Puppets’ was spinning tonight. I really liked that CD, it’s was a lot better than ‘…And Justice for All’ which had come out the year before. Justice was good, but it didn’t have enough balls, it sounded to slick for my taste.

The plan was, we we’re going to drop Theresa off about a half a mile from the 7-11, if we were to get caught, we wanted someone who knew what was going on to be in a position to help. Thinking back, I’m not really sure just what kind of help she could have been to us; she was standing on a street corner a half a mile away from us and about 4 miles away from the area in Vegas that we lived. Theresa was absolutely lovely, a Latin girl and the only girl I had ever met up to that point who actually understood my weird sense of humor. That made it seem like he and I were always on the same page, I don’t recall ever being totally on the same page with anyone before Theresa. She has a smile that big and bright, I remember how her eyes would get sort of squinty when she smiled. She was Jason’s girl though.

We pulled along side of the 7-11 and waited until the parking lot was empty before we made our move. As the last car pulled out, Jason and I got out and walked in, Keith stood next to the car holding the back seat in the forward position for easy access. Jason and I casually strolled to the cooler he opened the door and grabbed 2 cases, I grabbed another 2 cases and turned and nonchalantly approached the counter. The trick is once we both get to the counter; we pause, then dash, making sure we are close to each other.

Jason was a little guy; I could tell that he struggled with that because he was always the first to throw a punch. He took absolute pleasure in beating someone down; the kid was constantly in a fight with someone. He always had something to prove. He had an older brother that was pretty successful, I don’t recall exactly what he did for a living but he was the pride of the family and I think that bothered the kid. Personally I think that’s why he had a chip on his shoulder. The only person that could calm him down when he got pissed was Theresa, she did it with ease.


We paused, I think I may have even put one of the cases on the counter before I paused, but then we hit the door. As we ran out, 2 guys were getting out of their car, noticed what was going on, and began to chase us around the side of the building. I reached the car first, threw my cases in the back seat and dove in, Jason was right behind me. Keith jumped in, pulled the seat back as Jason reached the car. One of the guys had apparently caught up to Jason because he had a hold of his shirt. Jason realizing this dropped the one case he couldn’t throw in and just began beating the living snot out of this guy. As the other approached, Jeff threw the car in park and began beating the other one. I froze, I was absolutely frozen.


Keith and I looked at each other as if to say “now what?”, but before we could even decide what to do next, they both jump in the car and we sped away laughing our asses off. Jason’s shirt was almost torn clean off; he finished the job and used it to soak up the blood from his eye. We pulled up to the corner where we dropped Theresa off, she had both hands pushed deep into her pockets and when she noticed that it was us she did this little bounce, I remember thinking how cute that was.

I pulled up to work just like any other day, thinking I would rather be just about anywhere else. I usually enjoy my job, but I definitely have my good days and bad days. I sell cars for a living, specifically Chevrolet. The key to being a good salesman is believing without a shadow of a doubt that you are selling the best product in the world. I firmly believe in General Motors, with my entire soul. That belief makes everything easier, the presentation of the figures is easier, the close is easier, overcoming objections is easier, everything is so much easier.

Today I’m making things tough on myself. Getting nostalgic about my childhood on the drive to work has me preoccupied and restless. Like a splinter in my subconscious, this nagging feeling that overwhelms me when I think of those days isn’t uncommon. The images of Theresa doing her little cute hop, of Jason laughing as he wiped the blood from his face just overwhelmed me.

I entered the customer lounge to refill my coffee and bumped into an old client of mine, Wilber James. Mr. James was a delightful man; he loved to reminisce about the Korean War and could gleefully talk for hours. Today wasn’t any different. As I sat down to catch up with Wilber I noticed myself thinking about that night in the desert. As he smiled and spoke softly I nodded my head and became entranced, I heard nothing, and I felt nothing. As I tried to focus on Wilber’s story, I saw a brief flash of a horrific image: it was an insect’s eyes. The eyes were black; behind them there was nothing, no life, soulless. This terrified me, my heart began to race and I lost my composure.

The sweat began to bead up on my forehead but I felt cold. I recognized Wilber’s concern by the look on his face. I didn’t realize it at the time but I was screaming. I jumped from the chair and staggered back a few steps.

I fell to the floor; I was then surrounded by a swarm of concerned people, fellow employees, and customers alike. This horrified me as well, what were they going to do to me? I blacked out…… As I did, I remembered Theresa.


I dreamt of Theresa



Mexican born Theresa Maria Belle-Hernandez was the youngest in a family of 9. Her father Jose Hernandez was a skilled mason and solely supported the impoverished clan by working sun up to sun down in order to keep food on the table for his large family. His effort was not lost on the sensible young girl; she would sit at the kitchen window and wait for hours for her father to come home. Her mother Maria gave Theresa as much attention as she could, but with 8 siblings it was difficult. Theresa felt essentially like she raised herself. Again, she used to wait for hours by the window, praying that she would soon see the lights of her father’s old pick up coming up the dusty road. Jose was a heavy drinker; it was not uncommon for him to visit the local cantina for a few hours after his long day of labor. This made her wait long and unpredictable, she would often fall asleep, head in hands, while she waited. Jose would always scoop her up in his arms, carry her off to her room and tuck her in. She found comfort in his smile, and solace in his eyes. “I love you mi hija, I love you” he said.

Theresa was 13 when she moved to Las Vegas, she met Jason soon after and they fell in love instantly. For Theresa; Jason reminded her of her father, a man with an issue with just about anyone. He had a problem with his temper and she thought she could fix him. She never really made the connection, but he indeed had a lot of the same eccentricities as Jose.

As I regained consciousness I heard her voice, I remembered her telling me “I was pregnant, and now I’m alone”. She was weeping, I don’t remember when exactly I was told about her pregnancy, but I am almost certain that she wasn’t the one who told me. What could she have meant when she said that she was pregnant? What happened to the child? Did Jason know?

I was helped to my feet by one of my coworkers Brian; I glanced around the dealership and noticed that everyone was standing there staring at me white, and stone-faced. Brian asked “you alright man?” the only thing I managed to say was “sure, I guess”. I have been plagued recently with these visions, hallucinations, whatever you want to call them. I don’t know why.

Although I’ve posted parts of this story before, now the members of my party have (at least been partially identified).
In the account that you are about to read; I do not name the members of my party, however, if you’ve paid attention to the above addendum to this account I’m quite sure you’ll be above to figure out who I am referring to.
So it begins:
Everyone has various reasons for confiding in others. Some have interesting testimonials that they fell compelled to share, demons to exercise so to speak. And although I rarely do, I sometimes seek out others who themselves share similar memories of traumatic experiences. This is why my life is in danger; it begins as a nightmare even the sickest subconscious couldn't externalize. So, I'm going to give this a shot well aware of those who will probably look to discredit me or discount my story as bad dreams or mental health issues.

I'm a professional male who grew up in an area close to Las Vegas NV. I remember being a freshman in high school when I started having issues with falling asleep. I would feel incredible anxiety most nights, tossing and turning for hours. When indeed I would start to drift, the first images of my 'between dream' would be of horrific figures inflicting pain on me. Primarily my brain, however sometimes my abdomen would be mutilated through my navel. I was impaled with sharp instruments; I thought for sure my right bottom rib was removed forcibly.
Unbelievable horrors that today I see much clearer than I did back then. I struggled for approximately 2 ½ years with this, too paranoid to speak to anyone because I thought I was going insane. This had a major impact in my life. I stopped going to school, I stopped socializing with friends, I withdrew from family, and I lost about 60 lbs in the span on a year. Those close thought I was using drugs, but I wasn't.

At the time the horrific figures were only sort of shadows. It wasn't until later that they were revealed to me. I was only aware of the above occurrences in small fragments, that is the only way I can put it.

At 18 the night terrors had stopped and I slowly (although not completely aware) started opening back up socially. I got a part-time job at a car wash and began to drink heavily. The monumental occurrence happened the summer of that year. On a July evening in the desert of southern Nevada I was drinking a few cold beers with 4 other males and 2 females. The sun was setting and was already behind the mountain range, lighting up the sky in an orange, blue, and purple glow that you can only see in that particular area. Female number one saw it first and asked me what I thought it was. At first I didn't even see it, but as I squint my eyes I notice something slowly gliding down against the mountain back drop. In a 1 o'clock to 7 o'clock descent, this object made no audible noise even though if it had been an airplane we definitely would have heard it. The distance to my recollection was only about a mile and a half maximum. Moments later everyone sort of just stopped talking and watched as its descent slowed to a stop. A dead stop. That's the strange thing; imagine for a moment how unnatural the sight of something like that is.
It's gliding along the air and it just stops. Someone at that point had it together enough at that point to turn the music off. I don't recall if anyone spoke after that. The object was sort of silver-blue and quite large. As it hung there, it had sort of a wobble, well more like a slight jerking motion. Then the next thing I could recall for a long time, was all of us sitting on the desert floor talking. We were in mid conversation when I became aware again. Although I don't remember what exactly we were saying, I remember how we were sitting because it was odd. A few of us actually were facing the wrong way.

As the years past, I started to recall what happened that night. It was horrific, we were rats. Unlike Whitley Strieber, I was not given the blessing of 'screen memories', once I remembered it was all there. We were #ing rats. Looked at with indifference. They gave us no message of hope, no speech about changing our ways as a species; I didn't even have my shirt or my left shoe when I woke up. I have a memory of one of the males I was with turning to me and saying "I guess I'm not the right one". I'm haunted by this. I have since lost contact with everyone associated with this incident (female one due to suicide). I have moved from Nevada to Arizona to Oregon to Kansas and finally to Michigan, I still feel like fleeing. I don't feel comfortable to this day discussing this. I've been a member here for some time and today I decided finally to write this.

The Environment


The chills envelop my entire body; I'm not wearing anything at all. What I'm laying on has a strange texture to it, almost like stucco but it's a medal. Very cold. Are my teeth chattering? They are, so cold my teeth are chattering. Some sort of refrigerated table supports me and I cannot move my head to see where I'm at. I can't move anything at all. I am able to hear a very low humming sound below me. A deep tone, but audible. Every so often I hear what sound like whispers sort of feathered under the hum. I think I am urinating. The only warmth I can feel seems to be seeping over my abdomen and pooling under the small of my back. I can't look to see. I'm panicking now; I cannot understand what's happening. The whispering is becoming more menacing. Although, I feel aware that perhaps the environment is having an influence on my perception of danger. It reminds me of when you become aware that you are dreaming and you second guess everything you perceive as reality.

I can smell a very powerful odor. Like a burnt match, almost a metallic odor, I that makes sense? I'm able to focus at this point straight ahead (above). There are small rectangular supports with another larger rectangular object above me. Almost a dull gray in color. The larger rectangle sort of suspended in the middle of the whole contraption by three arms, two to one side one on the other. The upper inside surface of the room or 'ceiling' was comprised of what looked like a metallic mesh. Very tightly woven and shiny. The lights are odd as well; the feel natural like sunshine feels through thick cloud cover. Although it's dull you know and feel that it's a natural source. Actually as I sit here writing this, I am becoming aware that the room itself had an organic quality to it. Like everything around me was alive. Alive but sterile, very contradictory.
Perhaps because this is the first time I've sat down to document the event now years removed. This could be a developing matrixing effect. My mind snapping together pieces from separate puzzles. This is not uncommon when people go through a less than ideal experience. At this point I seem to have a pretty good command of my eyesight. I can sort of scan around the area.
The room was quite large, around 200' around. There were no corners or sharp angles, and the walls seemed to be concave, the center slightly bowing in. They looked as if they were rubber, like a wetsuit. I didn't see any visible means of entry. I will get into more regarding the environment later. It's at this point the cataloging began.

The Catalog Process

I am to this day unsure of where they came from, I do know however that there were many. Before then, the panic I had earlier felt was giving way to curiosity. Thinking of it much later, I recalled that I felt a kind of serene acceptance of my circumstances. This was shattered by violent and abrupt activity at both sides of the room. Like BANG! Out of nowhere, I was lifted into a sitting position by one being on my right; two more on the left, one had a hold of me by the hair. I am unable to describe to you the wave of terror I felt as I realized that I was in a room unable to move, surrounded by what appeared to be large insects. I remember hearing myself making sounds like a whimpering puppy. Maybe I was trying to scream.
Although they were bipedal, they resembled bugs. This could have been influenced by how they were moving, very jerky and quick. As I recalled later, they moved on sort of unpredictable, random paths. Not like an "A to B" direction, more like someone would walk to avoid something but there was nothing there.
My head was yanked to the left and I felt an extremely painful sensation behind my right ear, just below the lobe. I couldn't really see the three that were assaulting me. I just sensed that they were there, just out of my periphery. The pain became unbelievable. I was abruptly pushed down with my head ending up in my own lap and my left cheekbone touching the top of my left thigh as the agony behind my ear continued. Years later I began to become aware that the feeling was actually an intense suction. The suction began behind my ear and then relocated to the base of my head.

After what seemed like anywhere from 2-5 mins, I was placed back in my original position. I could for the first time see them clearly. As in most cases you hear about the eyes are always a prominent detail. Allow me to attempt my description. Aside from being large, black, and having no pupils, the eyes felt dead. I've thought quite a lot about this over the years and please forgive me if my documentation takes on a speculative tone. We communicate verbally however a great deal of how we interact comes from our eyes. By looking at someone's eyes you can tell a great deal about how they are feeling. I guess that is why I describe the eyes as looking dead, or even soulless. They were very haunting to look at then, as they continue to be in memory.
One being placed a large sort of lens on front of me with one hand and held my hair with the other. The lens was about 4" square and looked sort of wet although I don't know for sure. The hand held lens didn't look to be attached to anything and made a bit of a high pitched whistle, almost like a dentist drill. Again the feeling of giving up came over me. As the being took the lens away I noticed a large instrument in the process of being pulled from my lower abdomen. Thicker than a needle and quite long, I have no recollection of any pain associated with this at all.

*My perception of what followed is speculative. Please keep this in mind as I continue.*

The instrument was withdrawn bearing no visible blood or tissue, and no associated pain. I sensed it was used to sample a portion of a gland. Highly speculative, I understand. What gives me this impression? I cannot answer that. A lot of our ordeal left impressions on me regarding intent and I have made a great effort to this point not to detail them. I find it difficult to sit down and recount that day without continually stopping and editing what I have just written. Mainly because I find it not only hard to trust the memories I have, but also to separate my feelings of what they were trying to do, with what indeed was being done. That said, I strongly feel the instrument inserted into my abdomen was to garner a sample of a gland.
One primary difference with my memory and others I've read about is 1. I feel as if I remember almost the entire event. 2. There are no memories of any exam, experiment, or test done to my reproductive organs. I was at this point removed from the refrigerated slab and escorted to a sitting area in the same large room. I was escorted by 2 of the 3 primary beings. I remember having difficulty walking under my own power, but was not aided what so ever by the beings. I was placed on a long black cantilevered bench, extending approx. 15-18". From my memory of the direction I walked, and the position of the cantilever, I should have been able to see where I had just been. I could not. I was startled as I realized that the room was not the same. Although it looked to be comprised out of the same 'materials' it was considerably smaller.

I was overwhelmed with sadness and fear at that point and began to sob. Why now? I have no idea. I wish I knew. This is the last thing I can recall. The next thing I knew I was in mid conversation with my party. The first words I heard were "I guess I'm not the right one." from one of the members of my party.
Perhaps none of us was the 'right one'. Strange items to note: I was not left with the impression that I was not 'the right one'. I was left with no impression that I was not accepted by these beings, or that I lacked what they were looking for. It's odd that this was what he was left with. Subsequent conversations with him afterward yielded no concrete answers as to why he said this.
Of the six remaining members of the party (one has left us), we almost never spoke of the event.
Most of us hardly spoke at all after the event, why that is again I do not know. Other anomalies: My mother brought the event up to me in a conversation in the late 90's. I swear to this day I have no recollection of telling her. She maintains I did not long after it occurred. I wonder if this was the only time I exposed this secret before now. I bear various physical manifestations of a man who has been emotionally impacted by something that I do not completely understand. I have times where I gain and then lose large amounts of weight. I struggle with maintaining friendships for longer than a year or so (I may just not be that great of a guy to be around, who knows, just a thought). There are other oddities associated with this event I do not feel are noteworthy at this time. Although, even if they start to make sense to me, and I can express them in a coherent way, I probably will not post them. I have posted this account in another forum, quite some time ago and wasn’t treated well.

TDH

[edit on 14-9-2009 by poedxsoldiervet]

Originally posted by poedxsoldiervet
reply to post by TheDarkHorse

 

Holy crap man... If what you are saying is true, Wow just wow. Maybe its the man behind the curtain we should be afraid of.

short stories man

In all due respect the truth is; these are memories I have. While in the past I have freely offered when my work is that of fiction, this one is quite different. I can not be certain whether or not my perception was actual reality. I’ve taken quite a beating in other forums as I said in my initial post, so I decided to post a revision here.

I do however encourage the reader to be skeptical. After all, I am.