The Scary Voice In My Dreams | Storytime Wednesay

 

Heyo Bookaholics!

Welcome back to another storytime. Today I’ll be narrating the only scary dream I remember from when I was a child. This was the only reoccurring scary dream that I’ve ever experienced. It was at times oddly comforting, and in my later years I’d call it back somehow to put me to sleep when I wasn’t able to. I hope you find it as creepy as I did.


The Scary Voice in My Dreams…

I can’t say I remember when it started, though I do remember it occurring around the time when I first became scared of the dark and the things hidden within (but that’s a story for another time); I’d say I was around 10-12 year’s old.

Thie dream never started off normal. Every time, I found myself in a large pitch black room that had the feeling of endlessness, with nothing but a rack of clothing by my side, and the feeling of a dark tunnel off in the distance.

As it began I was filled with an uneasy feeling, and I could feel the familiar worry wash over me. I knew what was coming, yet I couldn’t move. Mentally I was stuck, and physically; I was completely unaware.

I could feel it coming, the high pitched sound in my mind’s ear that felt all too real and tangible.

Looking around, trying to get a grasp on my surroundings I would see only that same clothes rail; a few hangers and clothing items hung off it, they sat so still as if they refused to move with the breeze of the room.

The atmosphere was another thing I’d noted quite often. It felt thick and musty, though the air flow changed with that of my external environment; which was an observation I made many times upon waking up in a frantic sweat.

My heart rate began to race as the noise I was hearing transformed from something high pitched to a soft and deliberately slow drawling woman’s voice. I’d identified this voice as my mothers; at least there was a sixth sense that told me of her presence there. I’m unsure if this sense of my mother’s presence made the nightmare feel like a sanctuary for me, or maybe the voice became a lullaby, but one thing was for sure: That wasn’t my mother.

When she began to speak, my toes curled and my mind started to recoil, attempting to do and think of anything that would rid me of this world and this voice.

I never remembered anything that was spoken, it wasn’t about that. It was the slow and deliberate drawl of her voice that clawed at the back of my mind, the deepest part of my subconscious that recognised all of my fears and ambitions. The part that wanted me to fail as much as it wanted me to succeed. The voice was from there. The deepest part of my mind, that no form of imagination and world shifting would be able to rid me of its presence.

I could tell you it lasted five minutes, but it may have only been two, or even ten, you can never really tell how much time has passed in the dream world.

It’s been years and haven’t heard the voice or had the dream once, and to be honest, I’ve become more and more scared of it showing up randomly and scaring me into insomnia.
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Stay Happy, Healthy, and have a Lovely Week!!

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Thank You so much for reading! I hope to see you all back here on Saturday 🙂

BREE XOXO


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© Jasper+Spice 2018. All Rights Reserved. Please do not use without my permission. This post was not sponsored, the photos and graphics are my own, except any book covers featured; they’re from Goodreads.

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Lover of Books, Captain America, and all things Pink!

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