The area around me became garbed in a bright light as I turned on my flashlight. The room was a disaster area with shelves toppled over, the books spilling on the cold wooden floor. Each piece of furniture had deep gashes in them as if something unholy had ripped into them. To make things worse, the door I had entered through was nothing but splinters, and one of the walls had a splatter of blood on it, already caking and cracking.

All of this only added to the fear I was feeling.

I was on the run from something that I couldn’t even remember running from. All I knew was that I could hear footsteps every so often. Sometimes the footsteps would get loud enough for me to jerk my heard into the direction it was coming from, only for nothing to be there and the footsteps softening.

I walked further into the room, but once I did my life flashed before my eyes as I heard the footsteps once more, this time sounding more feverish as though it was sprinting. I, of course, made the ever so smart decision to turn around, but when I did, I encountered the scariest thing in my life.

A man was charging at me was wielding an ax, the weapon having a small trace of blood on it, as if he took out another man in this house before coming for me. I screamed as I heard metal on flesh, the ax hitting my arm. To my dismay, I survived that hit, but I doubted I was able to survive the next one as my attacker raised the ax high into the murderous air and harshly brought it back down on my neck.

I awoke with a scream as I felt my arm and neck, seeing that there were no ax wounds of any kind, and that I was safely snug within the confides of my rather plush bed. I let out a sigh of frustration and rammed my head back on the pillow.

“Damn it,” I muttered, “Not again.”

I looked at my alarm clock; it was the same time that I awoke to the previous nights.

Midnight.

I lay wide awake in bed, my eyes refusing to shut and my mouth not wanting to yawn. The dream, or in this case nightmare, was still fresh in my mind. I figured if I went back to blissful sleep I might relive the abomination, or worse, I might get a more horrible dream then the last. Thinking quickly, I grabbed my pen and journal on my nightstand and began to jot the whole thing down with horrifying precision. I wrote my other nightmares from the past week in this journal; they seemed to be in chronological order from me arriving at some house in the middle of nowhere and ending with me dying horribly. I knew it was difficult to write this monstrous nightmare down, but I figured my mind could rest easy knowing that I didn’t have to remember it anymore.

I was dead wrong. Every time I even dared to close my eyes even for a second, the dream would near its ugly face into my brain, jolting me up in a flurry of screams.

After what seemed like hours of lying in my bed, I got out of and walked to my apartment’s kitchen and made myself a cup of bold, dark coffee. I drained it in one giant gulp and went back into my room to get dressed. No use in going back to sleep since I had to go to work in a few hours. After I finished dressing in respectful clothes, I opened the door to my apartment and walked down the endless stairwell onto the black pavement. After jogging to my car, I proceeded to start it and drove out of my parking spot and made my way to my work, the omnipresent nightmare still lingering in my mind.

When I arrived at the entrance to my work, the time of 6:50 AM flashed in bright neon green on my watch as I stood by the door. I had only needed to wait a few more minutes and he will be here to let me in and allow me to work, and then I would be rid of that horrible dream.

When he did arrive, he was both puzzled and happy to see me bright and early. I told him that I had another dream as he unlocked the door to the building, it feeling even more real than the last.

“Stop drinking,” My boss had advised me, “It should help you with your problem.”

“But I don’t drink sir,” I replied to him as we both walked into the building, about to split to our separate work spaces.

“Then start!” He laughed as he walked passed me and I walked the opposite direction to my cubical and began to get to work.

After an hour or two when everybody else had arrived, someone entered my cubical and greeted me with, “Jesus Harrison! You look like crap!”

I turned around and lightly chuckled, “I feel like crap too, Joana.”

Joana was my best friend since childhood. We almost looked identical, minus his beard and my very tiny sideburns. He was the first one I had started telling my serial dreams to and he told me to talk to the boss about it.

“So how about them dreams, Harry?” He asked, glancing at my paperwork already filed and put into the “out” tray.

“It got worst last night,” I answered with a defeated tone.

He raised his eyebrows, “How bad was it this time?”

“I got killed by an ax wielding murderer, that’s what.”

He whistled, “Wow, at least these dreams should be over right?”

“Hell if I know,” I answered, taking a sip of my oh so bitter coffee, “Hopefully yes, considering that these dreams seem to be in chronological order.”

“So what was first Harry? I can’t seem to recall what it was,” He asked, “Was it you arriving at that house?”

I nodded, “It was owned by a strange old man too. He let me in the house and that was when

I woke up that night at midnight on the dot.”

He stroked his beard for a while before saying, “The next night, if I remember what you told me, was you two having a conversation about something.”

I shrugged, “Yeah, but I just don’t remember what it was about though. I’m guessing it wasn’t really important since I forgot it.”

“Do you think it’s some sort of trauma getting back into your head?” Joana asked me.

I shook my head, “I don’t think so. Nothing I did scared me as a child, probably because I played it safe most of the time.”

“Still, I think you should take this,” Joana handed me a slip of paper, “This is the address to a psychiatrist I went to once to rid me my fear of snakes. Maybe he can help you with your dream too.”

“I might as well,” I said as I grabbed the slip of paper and read the address, “I’ll try going after work.”

Joana smiled at me, “Thanks Harry. Trust me; if anyone could get rid of your nightmares, it’s him.”

When my car had arrived at Deer Creek Avenue, my expectations for this “Doctor Slumber” were on thin ice. The place looked old, wooden beams on the house rotten and the mortar surrounding the bricks cracking. I built up enough courage to slowly but steadily creek to the door and knocked three times. In an instant the sound of locks being unlatched and undone hit my ears and the door opened very slowly, revealing a very pale old man’s face staring right at me.

“Are you Dr. Slumber?” I asked.

The old man nodded once, “Why yes I am. What brings you to these parts?”

“My name is Harrison. I was told by one of your earlier patients that you could help me with a problem that has been plaguing me for some time.” I answered truthfully.

“Was it by a young man named Joana?” Dr. Slumber asked. I nodded and he replied, “Well, come in.” He swung open the door and let me in and I saw one of the most dazzling collections I have ever seen surround me.

There was snake stuff everywhere! Magazines, nature DVDs, plushes of boa constrictors, and even a few Metal Gear Solid posters plastered around the main room of the relatively small house. I let out a thin whistle, “You sure love snakes don’t you?”

The old man pleasantly smiled, “I do. They are one of my favorite animals in nature, and a main reason that your friend came to me for help.”

“Was it because of his fear of snakes?” I asked. The doctor nodded and I let out a small chuckle, “I can remember like it was yesterday. We went to a zoo for a field trip in elementary school, and we went to the reptile house. What had happened was he somehow fell into one of those giant snake boxes and he was scared of them ever since.”

“Do you mind if I ask you why you’re here Mr. Harrison?” He asked me as he showed me a rather comfy seat for me to sit in while he sat in a chair next to me.

“Not at all doctor,” I replied and began to tell him about my dreams and how they seemed to be in chronological order and what had happened in them.

After what seemed to be hours, Slumber began to stroke his long white beard and said, “And that’s why Joana told you to see me?” I nodded.

He got up from his chair and beckoned for me to follow, “Come. I have something that might be able to help you.”

After what seemed to be minutes walking down a hallway, we had arrived at a lone door, decimated by age and what also seemed to be termites. The door in question was like all the other doors we had passed; brown coloring and was peppered with holes, just that this one had a rather big one above the door knob. Slumber jiggled the knob in question, but after seeing it was stuck, he put his hand in the big hole and twisted it on the other side, opened the door and let me in.

The room itself was quite lacking if I did say so myself. It was as basic as could be, except for the tall, slender white tube with a control panel in the middle. The good doctor pointed at the machine, “That thing over there is what we will use,” I followed him up to it and he pressed a button and the tube revealed a opening for a regular sized man to fit into, “Please hop in.”

I did as he asked and as soon as I got in, it had become a claustrophobe’s worst nightmare. I couldn’t move an inch except for my eyelids and fingers, “Doc, what is this used for anyway?”

He noticed my face of discomfort and answered, “This machine will let you ‘face your fears’ quite literally,” he began glossing over the buttons of the panel and said, “Now, when I press this button, it will take you to your dreams so you can get rid of them once and for all. I just have one little rule for you to follow.”

“What’s that?” I asked as everything in my body began to go numb.

“For the love of God, make sure that you don’t die! Terrible things will happen!” He warned as he pressed the last button on the panel and soon everything turned black.

Once I regained my vision, I found myself at the entrance of an old house. I didn’t know what this house was until I saw a car drive up to it; my car to be exact. I looked on as I passed by and approach the door. Once he knocked, he came face to face with an aging man. It was Doctor Slumber. I saw the good doctor step back in and he followed.

Suddenly, there was blackness once again, this time reforming with me and Doctor Slumber staring at each other sitting on those damn comfy chairs and my mouth began moving. Wait a minute… My dream was a premonition! Once this revelation hit me like a ton of bricks, I saw the Doctor and I go further into the house and there was darkness once more.

My sight began flooding my eyes and I found myself in Doctor Slumber’s house, the only thing changing here was the place was covered in darkness. I looked down to the floor and almost screamed; a trail of blood leading into the kitchen. With fear in my mind I followed the trail and came face to face with Doctor Slumber’s corpse, his eyes open and chest oozing fresh blood from the wound. I closed his eyes and began looking around for a phone, and I found one, only for its cord to be severed. After looking around for a while, I found a flashlight with a pack of batteries to the on one of the numerous counters.

I picked up the light giver and fed fresh batteries to it, allowing me to see in this dark hellhole. I went with my gut and descended down the nearby hallway into the room of that strange machine to see if I was still there. When I had found the door leading to it however, the door wasn’t even there. The door was nothing but splinters on the wooden floor, and a flood of fear washed over me, trying to tell me to high tail the hell out of there and get help.

I gave my head a hard shake and looked dead on into the darkness of the next room and soldiered onward.

The room me became garbed in a bright light as I walked in with my flashlight. The room was a disaster area with shelves toppled over, the books spilling on the cold wooden floor. To make things worse, the pod I was placed in by the doctor was open with no Harrison in sight.

All of this only added to the fear I was feeling.

Every now and again when I walked further into the room I would hear footsteps getting louder and louder, but when I jerked my head into the general direction of it, it would soften. When I examined the pod, there was no trace of me. No blood, no body, nothing. When I decided to leave the room and look for the bastard that murdered Doctor Slumber, the footsteps were becoming louder and quicker, and this time, when I jerked my head in the direction they didn’t automatically stop.

The man who was charging at me was wielding an ax, the weapon glistening with blood, probably the same person who murdered Doctor Slumber. I screamed as I heard metal on flesh, the ax hitting my arm. To my dismay, I survived that hit, but I doubted I was able to survive the next one as my attacker raised the ax high into the murderous air and harshly brought it back down on my neck.

I awoke with a scream as I felt my arm and neck, seeing that there were no ax wounds of any kind, and that I was safely snug within the confides of my rather plush bed. I let out a sigh of frustration and rammed my head back on the pillow.

“Damn it,” I muttered, “Not again.”

I looked at my alarm clock; it was the same time that I awoke to the previous nights.

Midnight.