I feel like I should post this one first, simply because so far as I can remember, it was the first.
We moved when I was four, so I know that I was younger than that when I had this dream. That would make this the memory of a dream I had prior to 1976.
Because it's been so many years since then, I remember some details more clearly than others. The writing of it may seem stilted, and that is why.
This was the first dream which featured the character I later came to call The Yellow Man. I'll write more about him later. The Yellow Man is not the only recurring nightmare character I had. He just had the longest run. In recent years, I seem to have escaped him, but the memory is still sometimes enough to give me chills.
I am in my room, sitting up in my bed. It is dark, and I've just been returned there by my mother. I wasn't supposed to be up. It's after bedtime.
I'm not sleepy, and I'm annoyed that I've been put back to bed, but I know there's no fighting my mother on bedtime. She has established the finality of that rule with complete authority.
I think that if I'm quiet, and don't turn on the light, I can play with some of my toys until I'm sleepy. Very slowly, very quietly, I slip down off of my big bed. I feel the shaggy carpet under my bare foot. It is cool, and kind of soft, but also kind of scratchy.
I have some dolls. It's not as much fun to play with them if I can't do their voices, but if I do, Mommy will hear me and make me go back to bed. I put the dolls down and get out a picture book. My room has a night light. If I sit next to it, I can look at the pictures.
It becomes harder to see. The light is dimming, like a flashlight with low batteries. I touch it. It is plugged in. I twist the bulb. It is tight, and very warm. I don't feel so good. My head is buzzing, and my hands hurt. I think I will go back to bed.
I turn away from the light, and he is right there, right in front of me, right in my face. His skin is bright, bold yellow, kind of glowing. His beady little black eyes are sunken in huge socket-like indentations in his head. His mouth is a tiny slit below the place where there should be - but isn't - a visible nose. His face is thin, gaunt. It's hard to see, because of the glow, but it looks like every area where a person would have flesh is just skin tightly stretched over bone. I can feel his breath on me. He hisses like an angry cat.
His long, claw-like fingers reach out and grab me. I want to scream, but I can't breathe. I'm paralyzed.
The light continues to dim. All I can see is the Yellow Man. His hands make me hurt, though he is not digging in his claws or holding me tightly. It's a burning pain. It hurts in my knuckles, my wrists, my feet, and my ankles. It feels like something is pinching them from the inside. I can feel tears running down my face.
The Yellow Man's face seems to fill out a little. He still seems skinny, but he's not as gaunt. He moves his hands to my face. My head begins to hurt, and I become nauseous. I want to get away from him. I feel myself scooting backward even though the wall is there. He looks angry. Finally, I can breathe. I can move. I scream loudly and run back toward the bed.
I do not remember reaching the bed. I do remember screaming while sitting under the covers, hiding from the Yellow Man, until my mother comes into the room and comforts me. Strangely, I remember her night gown, which had a black fabric and flowers on it. I remember her telling me it was just a dream, and singing me to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment