The dream occurred again last night.
The dream occurred again last night. It has occurred so many nights, for so long, I can scarcely remember life before, or life without it. Nightmares have thwarted the sleep of many, throughout the ages. Who am I to complain about lost time in sleep? Yet the dream continues, night after night. Is here nothing I can do to thwart it?
Most nightmares have a creature. Some endless struggle between good and evil. This is a consistent and natural theme. In those type of dreams, it seems that if you can eliminate the creature, the dream would end. The nemesis returns night after night, intimidating and scaring its victim. Sometimes it’s the same locale, and the events repeat nightly. Often, the locale changes, but the events seem to repeat. In the end, the repeating horror is what can drive the victim crazy. Each night, running, hiding, avoiding. This can cause more stress than the creature did in the beginning. Just the knowledge of its repetition, the impending activities and yet again the minutes if not hours of missed sleep, can leave one exhausted.
My dream contains no creature. No scary locale, no haunted house nor a maniacal insane asylum. I do not end up in school without my pants on while the other kids laugh at me. I am not escaping a creature, trying to outrun and outwit some nemesis that will not let up. My dream has no creatures, but it does have a forest. It's not even a haunted forest.
Picture, if you will, an immense forest. Not a scary forest, just a typical western forest. Green as far as the eye can see. I'm sure there are creatures that call this place home, both benign and cruel. In my dream, they are never seen; there is no evidence of their existence in the unreality of my nightmare. No creatures swooping down upon me from above, except one. There is a nemesis; though it’s not a true creature. More about that later. The weather in my dream world is always pleasant, with a hint of sunshine, and very few if any clouds. So, there is no ghostly fog creeping around the forest. No otherworldly climate is infringing on my beautiful surroundings. For they are beautiful, my surroundings, and not scary in any way. This locale is the place many dream of visiting. Yet, I am in the grasp of this nightmare day after day, or rather, night after night.
Within this forest, there is a valley, a rather large valley. More like a field; simple, and easy on the eye. Grasses sway in the slight breeze in this field, from tree to tree. From left to right and top to bottom of this field, you can see a slightly rising and falling field of grasses. Something may lurk within these grasses, but I doubt it. I never see anything moving, squirming, hiding or even lurking. This is not the focus of my terror, night after night. I can vaguely see the grasses. I do not worry about anything existing within that could cause me harm.
On the north side of this grassy field, there is a lake; a small lake, almost a pond. A few boats could easily make their way around this lake without getting in each other’s way. It is not an immense lake, but not terribly small either. I doubt that the lake contains any creature swimming within its depths that would like to harm me. The lake is dark, and unclear, so I never really can see to its depths anyway. When I think back on the dream, I can imagine something swimming deep in its depths. I could picture something rising out of the water, breaking above the water, crying out with an impressive roar. But this is not the subject of my nightmare. That is a daydream, while I reflect on the nightmare. On the shoreline of this lake, is the expected sandy shore briefly, before it gives way to the grass that fills the rest of the valley. No rocks, no impressive geological formations. Just a simple shoreline completely surrounding the lake.
So, what is causing me terror? I have described a serene valley within a forest, with a simple lake. Almost nothing of note whatsoever is visible within this locale. It seems beautiful to the naked eye. None of these things lend themselves to my nightly repetitive terror. However, with my nemesis, my evil enemy, visiting me nightly, it does make the surroundings less beautiful, less impressive. But they don't actually do anything to lend to my terror.
If you look off to the left of the lake, you will see something that doesn’t belong in this locale at all. For on the shore of our simple lake, are stacks and stacks of pennies and coins. How high, I can never quite tell. I never actually get near them, for this is where the focal point of my dream comes, nightly. I tend to shy away from this collection of coins. There are many, many stacks of coins. There could be millions of dollars in these piles, even if there are only pennies. You could throw dozens of kids at this pile and let them climb for hours, and they would not even touch half the coins stacked on the side of my lake. The stacks are probably as high as a simple small office building. Some apexes reach points so high that they seem to ignore normal physics and reach to the sky. Other piles are thick as tree trunks, and extremely tall.
At this point, you may be asking yourself, do I have a fear of pennies? Do these coins cause me some innate feelings of dread? Am I afraid of suffocating underneath this immense pile of coinage? What could piles and stacks of coins do to me? No! I am not afraid of the coins. The dread of suffocating under them does not bother me. Being near them or on them yields me no ill will. It’s what is attracted to the coins that causes me ill feelings. This enemy doesn't actually cause me a true terror; but the repetitive nature of the activity of this dream presses me into uncontrollable feelings night after night. I dread its visitations. I yearn to be able to stop it, to halt it, to quench it in some manner. I have tried to remove the coins, to spill them into the lake or into the field. I have climbed on them and kicked and shoved and pushed; all to no avail. They seem to have been forged from some heavy metal and thwart my actions. When my nemesis approaches, I have headed into the field, and into the forest, only to continue to hear the approach and departure of the only infernal object besides myself of this dream that moves.
Each night, no matter where I am within this make believe location, I can hear the approach. It’s not a terrifying sound. Taken singularly, it’s the simple sound of an airplane approaching and departing. The first time I heard it, I turned my head and watched it approach over the forest. It was just a speck in the sky, but it grew and grew. As it descended, it seemed to reach out to the lake and the piles of coins. After a few minutes of approach, you could tell it was angling towards this pile near the lake. I thought that the owner of the plane would be someone who had been collecting these coins here, and was coming to deposit more. Possibly the pilot was the owner of these coins and this was the hiding place of their vast fortune. However, all the plane did was approach, turn, and leave. On the turn, it would come, so close, to the coins that you would have expected it to touch them, even smash into them, possibly crash. After years of this repetitive dream, I have pictured so many different accidents, explosions; anything that would bring it to an end. It never occurs. The plane simply comes in, turns near the pile of coins, and departs. Over and over and over. I have climbed to the highest portions of the coinage, in an attempt to stop the plane, or to cause a deviation in its path, or alter its trajectory and actions. Something. I want to see some change. Something different! It never happens. The plane just repeats and repeats. I have left the lake, left the field, and tried to hide in the forest. But I hear the approach. I know and can see in my mind’s eye exactly what is happening. I can never get far enough away to not hear it coming or going. I have tried to time the time between repeats, and have never seen a consistent value. At any time, the plane will swoop in and repeat its maddening dance. Sometimes, it repeats within a few minutes, as if the plane simply did multiple loops. Other times, it is nowhere to be seen for hours; yet I know its approaching. I can feel it. I cannot relax near the lake, or in the field or even the forest beyond. For I know that soon, any moment, the maddening sound of the plane will repeat. It will approach, get close to the coins, and depart.
Why won't it leave me alone? Why can't it just go somewhere else? When I am not present in the field or near the lake, why doesn’t it land in the field and do something with the coins? Where does it go when it leaves? Where does it come from? Who is flying it? Why are they constantly coming here, and disturbing me? What is the purpose?
Unfortunately, I never have reached answers to any of these questions. I can scream at the plane as it flies overhead. No one is visible in the plane ever. No yelled responses or answers are given. I feel that I could go insane trying to figure out the why’s, what’s, who’s of this nightmare. I have no weapons, tools, or even rocks to chuck up at this plane as it swoops by. I am unable to even move the coins to use as projectiles against this enemy. Repeat, repeat and repeat.
So as I lay down again tonight to sleep, I prayed that I would not enjoy the dream again. I hoped that I would simply sleep the sleep of the normals. I hoped that the enemy wouldn't return and repeat its endless march across the sky of my dreamscape. This night, I would not be so lucky. I entered the forest and valley in much the same way I have every night since as far back as I can remember. I instantly realize where I am at, and what is approaching. My breath quickens, and I start to perspire a bit. I see the lake in the distance. The immense stacks teasing me on the shoreline. I see the serene lake, wishing there was a wave or something breaking its surface. Desperately wishing to see something different, feel something different, and hear something different. Then I hear it, the telltale approach of the plane. I hear the engines humming and getting louder and louder. I turn to gaze above the tree line, and see the spec grow larger.
At this point in my repetitive nightmare, I do what I usually do; just sit down and await the inevitable. I see the spec grow more and more distinct as it takes shape. The plane is now visible and approaching the coins, like it always does. I get the same feelings I always do of dread, and hope. But mostly dread. For hope has almost all but vanished. I feel I am doomed to repeat this until I die or go crazy. As always, the plane gets closer and closer. The roar of its engines is etching sound waves in the back of my head. Oh how I hate the sound it creates. Closer now. Closer. It’s about to turn. I fix my eyes on it, almost willing it to crash. It banks and begins its turn, ever so close to the stacks and stacks of coins. It gets closer to the coins. Actually closer than it has ever gotten before. This time, it is turning closer to the coins. It may actually hit them. In fact, as I watch in stunned amazement, it actually makes contact with the coins, causing them to spill. Some reach the shore, and even break the surface of the water. Others fall and roll into the grass beyond the shoreline. Others simply fall on top of similar coins, but in formations I have never before seen, as they have never moved before. The plane does not crash, but continues on its unknown journey. Coins continue to spill and move in the wake of this unexpected turn of events. I watch as the plane keeps going, shrinking and shrinking until it’s a mere speck.
At this point, I expect the terror I have always felt to grip me, to remind me that this will simply occur again and again. But I do not feel the known apprehension this time around. I feel nothing.
Soon, I find myself awake. Never to repeat this dream again.
