Monster Dream (The Dream Factory)

Photo Source:  Queeniescrib@blogspot.com

Photo Source: Queeniescrib@blogspot.com

See “The Dream Factory” for a full list of my shared dreams.

While this isn’t one of the earliest dreams I can remember, it is one I remember with much clarity. I was in second grade–I know this because I remember writing about it in a classroom writing exercise for Mrs. Johnson’s class the following morning.

In the dream, I was walking around some old buildings with an older girl who babysat my sister and I quite often. She was a cool babysitter; the kind who wasn’t afraid to actually play with younger kids instead of one who saw their babysitting job as nothing more than making sure you didn’t perish under their watch. Most of the buildings around us were made of brick, and one in particular stood out. It was some government building, maybe a public library (I can say in hindsight), and it had a very wide, very long grand staircase made of white stone leading up to the door. At the base of this staircase was an under-developed area that featured many tall, thin trees, but no shrubberies underneath them–only dirt. This made it easy to see between the gaps of these trees.

At a point, the playful nature of my babysitter changed dramatically and a dire expression painted her face.

“We have to hide,” she said. “Hurry!” And she ran up an outdoor staircase to hide between the brick wall at the top. The direction she was hiding from was the library, just to be clear. I, still at the bottom of the staircase, looked behind me to see what she was seeing. Exiting the government-looking building was a monster that looked as comical as my second-grade brain could concoct. Nevertheless, it scared the bejesus out of me. The thing had huge eyes and had a fine coat of light-gray fur all over its body (which was mostly torso and very round). It smiled a smile that stretched wide across its face and its teeth were jagged, like a serrated blade. It tip-toed down the steps and, as it is with dreams, I understood more than I ought to have. I knew the monster made the same routine at this hour:  tip-toe down the steps, hide behind the closest tree, look both ways in a hammed up ritual, and then tip-toe back up the steps and into the library…and it would carry this out for several minutes until it was time to stop.

There I was, at the bottom of these steps with this monster moving to the place where I would be right in his sight line. I quickly moved up the staircase to hide with my babysitter, only the steps changed–instead of solid concrete, they became slanted and un-dried to the point where my shoes were getting stuck! The rail that had been there was now metal loops, barely the size of my finger and certainly not enough to pull myself up by.

The monster got closer to the tree and I got nowhere closer to my hiding spot, but that’s when I woke up.

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About authorphilpartington

Phil is a writing enthusiast of many years, having been published in numerous online and national print trade and sports publications over the past decade. He has spent the past five years delving back into the world of fiction writing, focussing on the fantasy, horror and suspense genres. Deshay of the Woods is his first novel.
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