Monday, December 13, 2004

"It may seem like a dream, but it's real to me." - Jimmy Eat World

Have you ever had one of those dreams that you'd like nothing more than to forget you had? "Duh, RickyRoutes," you say, "they're called nightmares you stupid ass." Okay, Jebus! No need to get all confrontational. Of course, everyone has had those wonderful dreams where at moment's wake, you make it a point to remember after you wake up, but more than often fail miserably. It works that way with nightmares too. A lot of the time, after you wake up, you won't remember what it was that made you so scared and soaking in a pool of sweat. But this dream I had last night was the first time at moment's wake, I told myself, "Let this have never happened. Erase this from my mind."

I almost don't want to type this out because, in doing so, I will be fully admitting to myself that I indeed dreamt what I dreamt. Oh well. Here goes...

So last night, while I was sleeping, I dreamt that I wasn't really sleeping. I dreamt that something woke me up in the middle of the night. I remember days earlier, a friend mourning the death of his mother and then soon discovering that his mother had a strange infatuation with me. So while I'm in mid-sleep (this is still in my dream), I feel the presence of her ghost. She's standing at my bedside watching me, with a clich├ęd wind in her hair and billowing translucent gown. She's not beckoning me to follow her or trying to communicate with me in any way; she's just standing there watching. And I see this while my eyes are shut, between wake and sleep.

I can't really explain how I see her there. I think I just feel her eyes on me and picture the image in my head. Perhaps that's why the image I remember is such a typical stereotype of a ghost.

But now, as she stands there, I feel her hand reaching out to my neck. As she makes contact, my neck becomes ice cold. This brings me out of my dream state, still in my dream, and I look up to where I thought she was standing, but only to find nothing. I realize that I was only dreaming, but seen from a third person perspective, there on my neck is a white glimmering hand print.

This is the moment I truly woke up. When I opened my eyes, I could still feel someone standing to the side of me and my neck was, honest to god, cold as ice. This wasn't just a cold neck. This was blazing cold in one small area of my neck; so cold that I felt it in my throat (almost like her hand was still in contact). I couldn't muster up the courage to check if something was there or not. All I could do was cover my entire body with my blanket so that nothing could reach through and make contact again. Seriously, I was so tucked under my covers that I couldn't breathe most of the night.

Of course, this isn't the first freaky thing that has happened in my room. If you're really close to me, you already know this story. One night, after my brother Ellvin Kelvin had left for college, I was in my bed sleeping on my side. I then heard someone whisper directly into my ear "Ellvin." Completely sure that it was my brother Timotei playing some sort of joke, I sat up quickly to catch him in the act. A sheer pang of panic ran down my back when I saw no one there. I called out to my brother, who at the time slept in the adjacent room, but I only heard his snores in response.

I was pretty sure I was just imagining things, so I laid back down. Not two seconds later did I hear, louder this time, "Hey!" I jumped up again, determined to find whoever was doing this and still saw nothing. Now, completely freaked out and on the verge of tears, I turned on my radio and turned up the volume. Then I covered my entire body with the blanket and clasped my ears shut the entire night. After that night, it took me maybe a month or two to sleep there again.

So maybe I've been watching too much Desperate Housewives or maybe it's just my imagination on overdrive, but freaky happenings aren't really rare when it comes to my room, or my life for that matter. I've got stories from camping out as a Boy Scout to being home alone in my house. And you should hear the stories my uncle Razor Ramon has about his paranormal experiences.

Scared boobless,