I don't know if these nightmares were caused by my daughter's going away to college...

Every night for the last three months I have awoken from the same dream. Each night at three in the morning I wake in a cold, wet, clammy sweat. My heart skips a beat and flutters when I speak of it. This is my dream.

My dreams have never been dull, in fact, rather quite extraordinary. Since I was a little girl, my dreams have been vivid, almost life like, in that I feel real emotion. It’s quite frightening. I never told anyone this, but sometimes in my dreams I see the future. I am not claming to be a psychic, but occasional deja vu. Recently, my dreams have become nightmares that have me on the brink of terror, always in constant fear, and of what? I don’t know. Each time I lay my head upon my pillow and turn off the lights, it begins.

I need to speak to someone because the fear is overwhelming. The fear is heightened, being that I live alone. I reside in a cold, spacious, rather eerie Victoria house, which was awarded to me from my divorce. Although I have a daughter she has just went off to college and is not expected to visit till the holidays. Loneliness is a funny thing because it makes the mind wander. So here I am, alone, lost for words, and in need of guidance. The night terror is set at my house during the night while I’m asleep. In my dream, I am awakened by a noise heard from downstairs. At first, I disregard the noise and harness my anxiety, yet as always, it is the same chilling three distinct knocks at the front door. My nerves take over and in spite of my mind cautioning me to stay put; my eyes disregard the warning and open. I then gently and quietly remove my bed sheets and rest my bare feet upon the dank wooden floor. I make my way to the stairs, being mindful of each step in an attempt not to trigger the moans of an old home. I flick the hall light on and peer through the glass pane. There stands the tall man who proclaims, “Unlock your door!”

His face is visible, but unknown. He urges, “Let me in, I must save you!”
I respond, “Leave, before I call the police!”

As he turns away I begin to feel relief, I proceed upstairs to return to my sleep. Not knowing what time it is I lie down, and before my eyes will close, I hear his fist strike my door once again. Motionless, I don’t know what to do and my mind recalls all the shows on television depicting a woman alone in a home and an intruder breaking in. In order to maintain composure, I pick up the nearest object, a statue on my nightstand, and snatch my cell phone. I call the police and they promise help is on the way. I lock the door to my bedroom and start to pace around my room. Tears begin to fill my eyes.

“Okay, I need a minute.”

This nightmare has made my life a daily struggle. After what seems like an eternity, is in reality only several minutes. The noise halts and I open my bedroom door. I control my panic and as I creep downstairs towards the kitchen, a brick explodes through my side entrance door. And the same man, I’ll never forget his face, slams into my door, reaches inside and turns the doorknob. In my dream I want to scream, but I can’t. I can only mouth with my lips, “Leave me alone!”

I lean against the wall and run up my stairs. My feet get heavy and each time I collapse from exhaustion and crawl up the rest of the stairs. Then darkness as within my dream, I faint.

This is how my nightmare ends with an unknown darkness. When I awake, I am in a state of shock: motionless and pale. Besides being in a state of continuous fear, I am embarrassed to live with the terror from this dream. This is my life from the moment the sun arises till the time my head rests upon my pillow. I try during the day to maintain my composure and forget about my dark vision, but it is always there.

As the days progress the holiday season is approaching, and my daughter is on her way home. I need some comfort, anything at this point will do: psychotherapy, drugs or even a man. I won’t allow my child to see me in such a desperate state.

In preparation for the holiday, I took off from work to run some errands. On my way back to my car, balancing my groceries and awkwardly fumbling for my car keys, I glanced up. I observed that unforgettable face from my nightmare, but it is impossible. I stood their paralyzed and screamed “Help!”

Much to my embarrassment, it was my neighbor. He looked at me as a doctor might gaze at a deranged mental patient and said, “It’s me, your neighbor, Brent, how are you doing?”

I did not dare tell him the truth, so I made up a story about an awful sensation that came over me thinking about my daughter. I excused myself and scurried into my car. As I pulled away from my parking spot, I glanced into my rear view mirror and a chill ran down my spine. While driving home, I couldn’t get Brent’s face out of my mind. Upon my arrival home, my daughter was waiting for me in the driveway. I leaped out of the car and charged at her in full force almost knocking her over. She helped me bring the groceries into the house and couldn’t say enough about her college tales during dinner.

As night approached, she decided to turn in early because of her long trip. When she went to bed, I grew frightened and got paranoid about what could happen. My mind became clouded with a thousands thoughts. I knew I had to gain control. I dismissed the idea that the man I saw in my dreams was real.

I yawned and glanced up at the clock as it ticked into the hours of darkness. I knew I had to go to bed, but instead I checked in on my daughter. Her time at college was the longest we’ve been apart. When I entered her room she was peacefully sleeping, which made me jealous, forgetting how nice it was to be relaxed. I shook my head, smiled, and regrettably headed back to my bed. When I slipped under my comforter a strange sense of peacefulness came over me. Maybe it’s the fact my daughter was home, or, well it doesn’t really matter. I just didn’t want this euphoria to leave me.

I fell deeper and deeper into my slumber until I began to dream. There it was, my constant unyielding nightmare. I recognized it, but only this time I was seeing it as if I was a third party looking into my own dream. “Here we go,” I thought.

The dream followed the same pattern. My emotions began to build even stronger. Towards the end of the dream I felt a greater connection, as if this was reality. I saw the darkness as I normally did when I fainted on the stairs, but then I regained consciousness and heard the man still trying to break in. I composed myself, crawled to my daughter’s room and yelled to her, but no answer. I shook her and she slowly awoke in a dazed state. From my panicked state, I stammered, “Get up, there is a someone breaking into our house.”

She muttered something, still half asleep. My heightened adrenaline gave me the strength to lift her and proceed to exit the house. There he was. “Please don’t hurt us,” I pleaded. At the bottom of the stairs stood the man. It was the man in my dreams, the man in the parking lot, to my dismay it was my neighbor, Brent. In my shocked state of mind, I heard him insisting for us to leave the house. I rushed down the stairs and out the door to try to rid myself of this man. He followed yelling, “You are in grave danger!”

I replied, “You’re crazy, leave us alone!”

I ran away from my house, but then thought to return to retrieve my cell phone and call the police. As I turned towards my house, I heard an explosion and flames overwhelmed my home. The explosion threw my daughter and myself to the ground and I passed out.

When I came to, I was in a hospital beside my daughter. The nurse informed me that the explosion was due to a gas leak. Both, my daughter and I suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning. To my astonishment, the man I most feared in my dreams was the one that was there to rescue me. Brent, then gently entered the hospital room holding flowers; I smirked and cried to him, “You are the man of my dreams.”