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I Had A Bad Dream.

May 24, 2011

You may be interested in something that happened to me about fifteen years ago.

I was having some random dream one night in high school that got “interrupted” by another. This new dream was of a book sitting in front of me on a table (didn’t really get a mind’s-eye picture of the surface or of the environment, was totally focused on the book). It was my understanding that this book was the Bible (dream logic). Its pages were turning on their own. This did not alarm me. However, the pages started turning faster and faster, and the book appeared to age before my eyes, and everything turned kind of reddish and menacing. I got the sense of an “evil” presence so intense that it woke me up.

This sensation of a presence persisted for several seconds after I woke up, localized at the foot of my bed. I was half-up and turned against the wall that was flush against me bed. I didn’t dare look and in fact sat frozen for what felt like half an hour. Stricken dumb.

I had been in Catholic school for a couple years before this, but I wasn’t religious. Nevertheless, there was a small wooden cross in my bedstand which I took out and prayed over. I thought of the one person who I wanted to be with at that moment and wished she was there with me, so I wouldn’t have to deal with this alone. It was a really intense moment.

Mind you, nothing miraculous happened. I felt no sense of an “answer” and stayed up until the sun rose, then slept fitfully for a few more hours.

Later that morning, I was talking with her on the phone about my weird-ass dream, and she was incredulous. Like she was shocked to hear me say that. And I was like, “What’s the big deal?”

And she said, “Well, last night, I was having a dream where I was driving roughly in the direction of your house, and I suddenly got the urge to go directly there. When I got there, I found you sitting in the middle of your room looking very scared. When I asked you what the problem was, you said, ‘I had a bad dream.’ We read some of your comic books for a little while, and then you got better.”

A few months later, I commented to her about this whole experience, and she had absolutely no recollection of the dream or the conversation we had the morning after it. Not just, “I don’t remember that,” but “I don’t believe you,” as though I were pulling her leg.

Maybe she had made up her involvement in my dream, felt bad later about faking it, and decided to just deny it if I ever brought it up. Or maybe she was afraid of the implications, or she’d “blocked” the memory of it because it was just too weird. Or she just plain forgot. I’ll never know. I asked her about it several times over the next few years, and I got nothing from her but disbelief.

– Posted by Captain_Midnight ; Reddit

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