The Old Man with the Red Eyes (The Dream Factory)

Photo Source:  becuo.com

Photo Source: becuo.com

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

In this dream, I was in the house I last lived in before my current one—a split-level that overlooked a swamp and lake. Only, the house wasn’t totally to scale (it never is); it was much smaller than in real life. On top of that, while the house generally gets a lot of light, the version in my dream was very gloomy and dim, and almost had the feel of a stereotypical haunted house.

My wife and I were hosting a party for a small group. I didn’t know anyone there except for my wife and one other friend, not that I could really see many faces being how dark it was. Most of the light was coming from the dwindling fire in the hearth.

Eventually, people started to leave my wife and I went to bed. As I was closing the drapes in our room, I saw an old man snooping around the outside of our house. He was peering into each window and held a large knife. He also had a crazed look in his eyes.

I shut the drapes hard and asked my wife if we should call the cops. She told me not to worry about it, and so we went to bed. However, after a little while, we started hearing strange noises around the house, so I went out into the hallway to see what was going on.

The crazed man had entered the house and was staring at me with a maniacal grin on his face—only now his eyes were glowing red.

I ran back into the bedroom, shut the door behind me and braced it with my foot at the base. I turned back to look at my wife to make sure she was OK—she was sleeping soundly. However, just past the bed she has a shelf where a number of stuffed animals sit. The eyes of one of these stuffed toys—a bear—was glowing bright red and this creepy voice came out of it, taunting me.

I woke up, frantic and tossing my covers aside. My wife woke up beside me and tried to calm me down. When I finally calmed, I checked the clock—5:59 AM…one minute before I had to wake up.

But then the funniest thing happened. I woke up…again. This time, however, the wake up wasn’t so frantic, but I was weirded out that I had dreamt of dreaming. I looked at my wife and she was still sleeping. Then I looked at the clock—4:45 AM.

I gave a moment’s thought to what I must have eaten the night before, and then flopped back onto the pillow and went back to sleep.

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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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