It was 3.30 AM and I woke up terrified, panicked and drenched in sweat as usual whenever I encounter that ghastly figure in my dreams(surreality).
My shirt was soaked in sweat as if I ran for kilometres without a break. Who would run for kilometres at 3.30 AM on a chilling winter morning in November!!
And yes, I didn't run without break, but I ran from a chilling experience.
That ten-foot-tall figure that hovered around me the last time, came with yet another terrifying experience.
The spooky figure that encounters me is a muscular and shiny figure with a complexion that is indescribably grey and darker than the pyroclastic fumes. The signs of its coming are very clear.
It all starts with the distant howls of the street dogs. Then, black, brawny and growling street dogs with scars on their faces, appear from nowhere followed by that spooky personality of nearly ten feet. Those red shining eyes resemble fresh volcanic fumes. The strands of hair pitch black, untidy, unbraided, coiled and hang all the way to the feet. The complexion is so shiny that it reflects the darkness surrounding the figure and makes it difficult to look at the actual facial features.
The dogs keep barking all the way moving from side to side as he walks through the lanes. In his right hand, his weapons, a sword, a hammer, a sickle, a spear, a trident, a cranked wheel and many more, hang dripping blood across the streets with an intense glow that can petrify anyone just at the sight of that person (I am not sure whether I can call that figure as a person).
When I had my first experience with this figure way back in 2014, the nightmare followed by the death of a neighbour in his sleep.
This time, it was more horrific, terrifying, and violent. The figure was roaming across the streets with a sack full of decapitated heads dripping blood, dragging and weaving the blood-thirsty weapons to draw more blood. As it nears, the barking(howling) of the dogs fades away and the silence of the dead plunges into the situation as if we are in a graveyard.
You might get a doubt, what am I doing all this time. Every time I hear the howls of street dogs, I know it's coming and I try to wake up. But I cannot. The dream or rather the surreality pins me down and makes me go through the horrific experience.
In the end, I wake up with my dress soaked and my body drenched in sweat. And I wait for another disaster to strike.
I know this is not going to be the last time. As time passes, I just wish and pray that I don't see the nightmare again. But time is not in my hands and so is the nightmare.
(Based on a real nightmare).