Creepy Stories

Truble Sleeping

If you stepped on it, you wouldn't feel normal pain from its spikes, but a strange pins-and-needles feeling. The other strange thing about these creatures was that where they died, this pins and needles effect would stay where they died, even if their carcass was moved, or decayed. There was one corner of my grandparents' house that my father grew up in where I knew one of these creatures had died, because I got that effect in my foot wherever I stepped there in my real dreams.

All these dreams happened when I was about ten and younger. I guess I started having them less and less often, and I forgot about them. I mean completely forgot. I never thought about them once. When I was about fifteen or so, I can remember one specific dream I had.

Some invisible beings I could sense were trying to get me. And in the dream, that's when I remembered. I remember all the dreams I had when I was younger. The realisation was so shocking I felt like it hit me. The closest analogy I can draw is the effect you see in movies where the camera draws away from the subject, but zooms in, so it looks like the subjects face doesn’t change in size, but the background rushes in at them. I remembered having real dreams. The strange thing was, the being that was attacking me suddenly drew back and disappeared. When I woke, I could still remember everything. I could remember the dreams I had as a child as if they had just happened. I found it strange. But as a fifteen-year-old, I had stopped believing in things like that. I thought it was just my imagination.

A couple of years ago, I was talking about dreams with my dad while we were having a few beers. He told me that when he was a child, he had two friends that came back to a lot of dreams he had. He told me their names. I didn’t recognise one, but hearing the other one nearly made me drop my beer. "Ry-ing." That was the same name as one of the three that tried to help me in my dreams.

My father told me how they used to be his friends in his dreams when he was young. And he went on to describe one particular dream, where one of his pets in his dream, a little creature he said looked like a "shadowy brown echidna," died. He told me exactly where it died, just in between the crabapple tree and the kitchen. This was exactly the spot that I had dreamed of knowing one of these creatures had died, because I had walked over the place it had died in one of my dreams, and had felt the strange pins-and-needles feeling that these creatures gave the place where they died.

The place was outside at the time of my father's dream, but by the time I was young, the kitchen had been extended, and the spot was indoors in a corner.

This blew my mind. Most things in my life like that I put down to coincidence, but that was just too close. I told dad about the same dreams I had had as a kid, and to my surprise, he wasn't shocked at all.

He said that his mother had similar dreams when she was young, and so had her father (my great grandfather, who died a long time before I was born). I have spoken to my grandmother about this, and she remembers vividly talking to "the little people" in her dreams, and talking to her father about it. She seems to treat them perfectly normal. Having an Irish background, she believes in "the little people." I had never even heard of them until I talked to her about it, and that was a long time after I had these dreams. I haven't had real dreams for years now.

I haven't seen Ry-ing or the other two in my dreams for years either. But I know that they are still there. What really bothers me is that my father, grandmother, or (from what I have heard) great-grandfather were never hunted in their dreams. They knew that other, evil creatures existed in the same world as the little people, but they were never attacked. I was attacked every real dream I had.

The other difference was that "the little people" taught my family, and spoke to them, but they didn't teach them what they taught me, limited flying, controlled falling, etc. Why was I different?

I can't explain how I know these dreams were real. I am agnostic, I'm not sure there's a God, I'm not sure of much in this life, but some things I just know. I knew that of my four grandparents, my maternal grandmother would die first, even though my father's parents are older and sicklier, and my maternal nana was fit as a fiddle until the day she died. I know that my father will die before my mother.

I don’t know how I know, I just do. Sometimes, lying awake at night, I can almost feel the real dreams. But whenever I concentrate on them, I feel them slip away, like sand through my fingers. Sometimes I momentarily see things that aren't there, like a single frame with an extra object spliced onto a roll of a movie.

When I get déjà vu, which happens about once a month, it kills me. I often have to sit down and close my eyes I get the feeling that strongly. But what really fucks with my mind is my memory.

You know how sometimes when you are trying to think of someone's name, or a word, and you get it "right on the tip of your tongue," but you just can't remember it?

Whenever I think about these dreams, I get that feeling. Like there's something about all this that I have almost forgotten.

But I know that it's important somehow. But remembering it is like trying to grasp smoke. I have tried hypnosis to remember more, but I am one of the one in ten people that can't be hypnotised, it just doesn't work on me.