6 A.M. Nightmare

What you are about to read is a true account of an extremely vivid nightmare that I experienced at a very unlikely hour of the morning for such a dream to occur.  This is what I remember of it.

It was one of those nights.  My bedroom felt like the inside of an oven that was cranked up to degrees that even the devil himself would find uncomfortable.  I was in and out of sleep all through the night, waking up several times to my body sticking to the sheets like a piece of meat in plastic film wrap.  I kept waking up with a dry mouth, taking trips to the bathroom in the dark to get a quick glass of water; I might add that even the water tasted warm.  I picked up my phone to glance at the time and saw it was approaching sunrise.  I laid back down not expecting to fall asleep again since I was so dreadfully without ease.  Then I suddenly hear what sounds like to be a violent storm ripping and roaring outside of my room.  

I remember looking out of my bedroom window and saw a very thick brush of what looked to be like tree trunks and branches, shaking and creaking as if they were about to be snapped and ripped out of the very ground they root in.  Then I heard a series of blood curdling screams echoing all around the outside of my house.  The screams were very high pitched and almost sounded electronical.  I then creak open my bedroom door and see that only a few lights are on in the house, the staircase light, and the living room light.  With the screams still deafening my ears I descend the staircase to see my dog standing outside of the back glass door staring at me as it screams and yelps for help.  I struggle with the door lock and finally burst open the door to let the dog in only to see that he is missing his right back leg.  When I let him in he stops screaming and continues to walk about like he normally does even with the absence of one of his legs.  

The house phone suddenly rings and I answer it to hear my fathers voice.  He does not try to engage in casual conversation with me but begins to start apologizing for something that I cannot quite remember.  Without even giving me a chance to respond to him at all he continues to ramble and apologize in a very muted voice, almost a whisper, and I cannot make out what he is saying.  As I walk about the downstairs area still holding the phone to my ear I step into the main living room and see a corpse of a dead woman sitting up right in one of the chairs.  The layout of the living was the same but only with different furniture.  Her face looked like it was a wad of melting wax with a crude hole for a mouth and a set of discombobulated eyes slowly rolling around in the open and closing sockets.  She began to speak to me in a southern accent, although I cannot remember what she was saying but it was not anything threatening; it was almost like she just wanted to have a friendly conversation.  

I remember standing there frozen in the living room with the phone pressed against my ear, hearing the screams of the outside storm while staring at this politely spoken corpse of a southern woman.  That is when I woke up.  My body jolted up from the mattress and I felt myself hyperventilating.  Light outside of my bedroom window filtered in through my window shade blades and I knew that the sun had been up for at least an hour.  I felt deeply disturbed by this vivid nightmare and would not allow myself to lay back down for fear that I might fall asleep again and enter the same realm of such bizarre horror and dread.  The time on the clock was 7.00 a.m.