Counting Black Sheep, (Phase 2)

I walk down the school hallway, feeling like some kind of zombie. My first class of the day is chemistry, with Mr Hill, and I feel like a lamb going to the slaughter... man, I really do have sheep on the brain.
The thing is, I hate science, I just don't have the brain for it, and Mr Hill is so boring. I feel like I'm going to fall asleep during science at the best of times, but after four days without sleep...
I rub at my throat as I remember the nightmare from last night. I don't want to go through that again... I can't fall asleep in class.
I head into class early and pick a seat near the back. Mr Hill usually only picks on kids at the front of the class. I sit down, and rub my eyes. My eyelids feel hot under my fingers from my dry eyes. I glance out the window, at the school oval. It seems to shine green under the bright, summer sun.
  "I hate you, sunlight..." I groan.
The bell rings, and after a minute the rest of the students pour into the classroom. Mr Hill comes in, in his usual, grey pinstripe suit. I take a book out of my  bag, and put it on my desk, to look like I'm paying attention.
  "Hello..." mumbles Mr Hill, heading over to his desk, and putting down his briefcase. "Right. So, today, I wanted to move onto the next module for organic chemistry; but first, we should pick up where we left off, and finish our lesson about sugars... so, can we please re-open our text book to page forty."
Everyone takes out their books and flips to the page, and I slowly do the same. I don't remember much from that lesson except that sugars were sweet, so I turn to the page and stare at the words without reading them. What is the point of learning all of this?
  "Harry, can you tell me, what is a monosaccharide?" Mr Hill asks, and one of the kids murmurs out an answer I can't hear, before Mr Hill writes something on the blackboard...
I wish I didn't have to go to school, I even told Dad it was pointless, but he said that "feeling tired" wasn't an excuse not to go to class. I mean, I don't see the point if I can't learn - I can barely focus on the blackboard, let alone what the teacher is saying - how can I learn anything?
Honestly, the only reason why I'm not skipping school entirely is that the thought of seeing my friends at lunch cheers me up a bit. The idea of staying home all day, alone, unable to sleep would probably drive me insane.
I look out the window, at the oval. The bright sunlight hurts my eyes, but I still think I'd be happier out there, doing laps. I've always enjoyed sport, and maybe if I could go for a run - get my blood pumping - that might keep me awake. I rub my eyes again, feeling a headache from staring at the brightness too long. I bury my head in my hands, rubbing my face, and with a sigh, look out the window again. I see red eyes staring back at me. They're all the way down on the oval, but I can see black sheep. Not just one, there's two of them. They're standing close together, and with their identical, smokey wool, it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, but those blazing, red eyes are unmistakeable, and I can see two pairs, looking up at me. Am I hallucinating? I rub my eyes again.
  "Bianca!" snaps Mr Hill, from the front of the classroom, and I flinch, as I open my eyes, looking at the teacher. "Perhaps you need a bit more energy, if you're having so much trouble staying awake."
  "What?" I say, confused.
  "Have you been paying attention, Miss Wardell?" asks Mr Hill.
  "Yeah," I lie. "I just thought I saw sheep..."
I look out the window. Sure enough, the sheep are still there, glaring at me.
  "Excellent," says Mr Hill. "Then, would you mind explaining the chemical process of glycolysis to the class, please?"
  "Uhh..." I look down at page forty in front of me, scanning for the word glycolysis, but I can't see it. "Glycolysis-sis-sis-sis..."
  "Bianca, come here please," says Mr Hill, he points at me, and then upturns and curls his pointer finger towards himself, beckoning me forward.
I stand up from my chair, and head for the front of the classroom, as I do, I hear some of the other kids snickering. Mr Hill points to the board. "Bianca, what is this?"
He is pointing at a chemical structure diagram.
  "Uhh... sugar?" I say.
  "Yes, this is glucose..." says Mr Hill.
  "Uh huh, okay..." I say.
Several of the other kids are giggling. I glance back at them, confused - why are they laughing at me?
  "Don't look at them, look at-" Mr Hill stops, and glances at my legs. "Bianca, where is your skirt?!"
  "Skirt?" I say, glancing down. I see bare legs, and a hint of panties. I squeak, as I grab my shirt and pull it down. What happened to my skirt?
All the kids in the class burst out laughing.
  "Bianca, this is unacceptable!" snaps Mr Hill.
What happened to my skirt? I was wearing one to school... Did it come off when I was... wait. This is a dream...
  "I must have fallen asleep..." I say,
  "Bianca, what are you talking about? Where is your clothing?"
  "This is a dream," I say.
  "Bianca, please, be serious," says Mr Hill, his face turning red with anger. "This is real, you're not dreaming."
  "I'm not..." I say, glancing around. Some of the kids are taking out their phones to take pictures. Mr Hill looks annoyed, and a little embarrassed.
  "No," says Mr Hill. "If this were a dream, I'd be doing this..."
Mister Hill takes a step closer, and grabs me by the throat.
I grab his hands, and in my fingers his warm hands grow thin and cold, as they tighten around my neck, and I can't breath. I watch as his whole body darkens, and decays into bones, and his clothing deteriorates into wispy blackened rags. His breathing gets heavy and ragged as he becomes the reaper, squeezing my airways shut. No, please, not again... Please! Not again!
I try kicking at the creature, but there's no legs under the wispy, black cloth, and it holds me up by the neck. I grab the bony arms by both wrists, and try to pull them away, but it's like they're made of stone, they won't budge.
My lungs hurt from straining to breathe against my blocked windpipe, and I see my vision fading. I gasp weakly against the choking hands, desperately trying to stay alive... but I can't breathe... I can't...
  "AAAAARGH!" I scream, jumping up from my seat. I put both my hands by my neck - the fingers are gone. I glance around the room, and see that several of the other kids are looking at me, some of them look annoyed, others look scared.
  "Bianca?" asks Mr Hill, turning away from the board. "Are you alright?"
  "Yeah, I'm... I'm alright," I stammer.
  "Are you sure?" asks Mr Hill, walking towards me. "Your eyes... you look like you haven't slept in days, girl."
  "I haven't," I say, honestly.
  "Why don't you head to the nurse's office?" says Mr Hill placing a hand on my shoulder. I flinch at his touch, and take a step back.
  "No, I, uh..." I look at Mr Hill, and his look is one of deep concern. Maybe I should go to the nurse... at least then, I won't fall asleep in his class again. I nod, and say "Okay, yeah."
I pick up my bag, and push in my chair. As I do, I glance out the window.
I don't see any black sheep.

The school nurse said I was showing clear signs of sleep deprivation. I mean, I thought that was obvious after I told her I hadn't slept in four days, so whatever. She also said I should go home and get some sleep, and even gave me a blue slip - a medical exemption - to show to the front office.
I took the slip from her, left the nurse's office, then put it in my pocket and went to the oval to run a few laps. I don't want to go home yet. I might fall asleep again. I want to sleep... God, I really just wish I could sleep, but I don't want to be left on my own. What if I fall asleep, and no one else is around to wake me up? What if I can't breathe, and no one is there?
I keep running laps, around and around, until the bell rings. I finish my twelfth lap, and head for the bubbler to get a drink before heading into the lunch room. I take three gulps of water, and stand up, but as I stand up straight I feel queasy. I put a little pressure on my chest, to try to settle my stomach, but it takes a minute before my guts stop churning. I take a few calming breaths, then pick up my bag from beside the bubblre and head into the lunch room.
As I head for my usual table, I glance at the other kids. I feel anxious, like they're all judging me. I don't want them to laugh at me again... wait, no, that didn't happen. That was a dream.
I sit down at the table, with Ruby and Anna. Ruby is a short girl, but has a big personality, and Anna has these amazing, blonde curls. I don't know where Josie and Ruth are, they usually beat me to the lunch room, but Ed and Ralph are probably getting food from the tuck shop. Boys are obsessed with food.
  "Hey, Anna; Rube," I say, sitting down.
  "Hey, Bee. How are you doing?" asks Anna.
  "Okay, I guess," I say.
  "We heard about what happened in Mister Hill's class," says Ruby. "Are you sure you're okay?"
  "You heard about that?" I ask.
  "Gossip travels fast in small towns," says Anna. "You look tired, love."
  "Olivia asked us what we knew about it, I think she's spreading it," says Ruby. "Seriously, they're saying you screamed at the teacher?"
  "I didn't scream at anyone," I say. "I just fell asleep, and I had a nightmare."
  "Was that the same nightmare as... as before?" asks Anna, leaning forward.
  "Yeah, the one I told you about on Friday."
  "What nightmare?" asks Ruby. "Why's this the first I'm hearing about this?"
  "It was Friday..." says Anna, rolling her eyes. "You were studying Friday lunch."
  "Look, it wasn't a big deal, until now," I say. "But I haven't slept since.
  "You haven't slept since Friday?" says Ruby, shocked. "That's three days."
  "Four days. It started after Thursday night," I explain. "Whenever I try to sleep, I dream about this creature trying to strangle me..."
  "And that's why you screamed at Mister Hill?" says Ruby.
  "I wasn't screaming at him!" I snap. I sigh, and rub my eyes. "I fell asleep, and it came after me again. I woke up, screaming..."
  "Jesus..." says Ruby, looking concerned. "No wonder you can't sleep..."
  "I'm telling you, it's every night-"
  "-G'day, girls," says Ed, moving to sit beside me. "What's up?"
Ralph sits across from him, on the other side of the table.
  "Bee hasn't been sleeping," says Anna.
  "You didn't sleep last night?" asks Ralph, frowning.
  "Last night, or the night before... or before," I say, looking in his eyes. "Four days, now."
He looks at me, and he looks a little shocked seeing my face, and the bags under my eyes. God... how bad must I look? Ralph has a bit of a crush on me, he has since Grade 5. If he's disturbed by my face, I must look like death warmed up...
  "Four days?" says Ed, snickering. "That's nothing... last year, I stayed up for six days, to cram for Miss Crought's Biology test."
Six days? He almost sounds proud of himself...
  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I say. The others at the table stare at me, but I am glaring at Ed.
  "What?" says Ed, smirking.
  "'I stayed up six days...' Do you think this is a game?"
  "Hey, calm down. I was just sayin'."
  "Just SAYING?!" I yell, standing up. "Don't tell me to calm down - do you think I'm doing this on purpose?! Do you think this is fun for me?"
  "Bianca, he didn't mean it like that?" offers Ralph.
  "Didn't mean..." I slam both my fists into the table. "I can't SLEEP Ed! Do you think I want to stay awake for four nights? Six nights? Ten?! Let's see how much longer Bianca can stay awake until she loses her god-damned mind!"
Ed looks scared down at the table. That's when I realize I'm standing up.
I look around and realize the girls are looking up at me, a mixture of shock and concern. Then I turn around, and see that a few of the other kids are looking over at me as well.
  "This was a bad idea..." I say, rubbing my eyes.
  "Bee, I'm sorry," says Ed.
  "DON'T... Just, don't." I say, stepping out from behind the table.
I grab my bag and head for the lunch room exit. I don't look back. I don't need to see more concerned, judging faces.

I showed the blue slip to the front desk, and went to the bus stop. As I waited at the bus stop, I took my lunch box out of my bag, and bit into the vegemite sandwich Dad made for me. It tasted good, but when I swallowed it, that same queasiness from before came back, and I felt like I was about to throw up. I put my sandwich away, and sat there rubbing my stomach.
After the bus came, I went to sit in my seat, but the queasiness wasn't going away. I had to stand up, because the rattling of the bus felt like it was going to shake the sandwich back up and out of my throat. So, I held onto the passenger strap for the whole ride home.
I can't sleep, and now I can't even eat... how am I supposed to survive if I can't eat?

When I got home, the first thing I did was go to the phone and call Dr Jacobs. I recognize the voice of the receptionist.
  "Hollow Falls Psychiatric, this is Irene. How can I help you today?"
  "I'd like to talk to Dr Jacobs, please. She said I could talk to her?"
  "Of course, can I ask who's calling?"
  "Bianca Wardell."
I hear her humming to herself for a second.
  "Okay, I'll just pop you on hold for a moment, while I go get her."
Immediately, I hear crackly electro-jazz music playing. I grab a kitchen chair, bring it closer to the landline, and sit down as I wait.
The wait probably only takes two minutes, but with my racing heart, and the feeling of half-chewed sandwich sitting in my throat, it feels like hours.
  "Hello, Bianca?" says Dr Jacob's familiar, American accent.
  "Hey, Doctor Jacobs. This is Bianca," I say, with a sigh of relief.
  "Okay, what's the matter?" she asks.
  "I didn't sleep last night," I say. "And I've been... all day, I've been off. I've been seeing sheep. And, I screamed at a teacher, and now I can't keep any food down. Everything I eat, I feel like I'm going to throw up - even water."
  "Okay, it's okay. Have you been doing your meditation?"
  "Yeah, I tried it last night, but it didn't work. I still had a nightmare."
  "Do you remember what I said yesterday? You shouldn't wait until you're panicking before you work on self-care. The trick is to identify triggers before, you panic, and look out for signs within yourself. It's good to meditate throughout the day."
Did she say that? I think she did, but I don't remember...
  "No, I haven't been meditating. I should do that- I'll do that when I hang up. But, Doctor, I can't eat. I don't know what to do."
  "That's probably nausea," she says. "When you don't sleep, it messes up your body chemistry - basically, your stomach is asleep so it's causing indigestion. Make sure you eat bland food - dry toast, crackers, mashed potato. Avoid grease, sugar and spices, they'll just upset your stomach more. And try drinking tea without milk - do you like tea?"
  "Uh, I don't know..." I say.
  "Well, warm tea, no sugar, might settle your stomach. If that doesn't help, you should call a doctor."
  "...aren't you a doctor?" I say.
  "Of course, but I'm a psychologist, honey. You need a G.P. if you have an issue with your digestion."
  "Oh, okay... okay," I say. "But, doctor... I still couldn't sleep."
  "It can take time, Bianca. Your brain is panicking as a reflex, you have to train it to settle, so it doesn't flare up with the drop in cortisol before bed... but you should try to get some sleep now, if you can, okay? Now, I should get back to my other patient, is there anything else?"
She's with another patient? I guess that makes sense, but now I feel bad... I don't want to make someone else wait, just for me.
  "Uh... I don't..." I stammer. "My Dad isn't home yet, and I don't want to sleep..."
  "Why not?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "What if I die in my sleep?" I say. "There's no one to... wake me up."
  "You won't die in your sleep, Bianca," says Dr Jacobs. "You said it yourself, you don't have sleep apnea, you don't even snore. It's all in your head."
  "Okay..." I say. "Okay, I'll try. Goodbye, doctor."
  "Alright, I'll see you for your Thursday session. Bye, Bianca."
Dr Jacobs hangs up the phone, and I stand up.

I find some potato chips in the pantry - original flavour, just salted - and eat them slowly. Each mouthful seems to sit in my throat, threatening to come back up, but after a minute, it seems to go away... it sucks, but at least it doesn't last for as long as it did before.
Then, I head for my room, and sit on the edge of my bed. Dr Jacobs is right, I need to sleep even if I'm alone in the house. It's all in my head... I just need to relax. I put some notes in the dream journal, about how I'm feeling. More tired. More stressed. Nauseous.
I don't bother taking off my school uniform, I just lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. All the lights are off, but the daylight still brightens up my room. I ignore it, and close my eyes. I decide to try some belly breathing... I place my hands on my stomach so my fingers touch, and take a deep breath, pushing with my diaphram, and trying to fill my lungs all the way to the bottom. The full breathe makes my stomach bulge a little so my fingers separate - like Dr Jacobs showed me - then I exhale slowly. With this exercise, you don't have to empty your lungs, you can breathe out normally, which is a little comforting. It's just about getting as much oxygen as you can. When you panic, shallow breathing makes your heart race, so the deep, belly breaths are meant to give you a good dose of oxygen, so your heart can beat slow and easy.
I take three deep, belly-breaths, then place a hand over my heart. It's beating slower. Thump-thump... thump-thump...
I should try some of the grounding exercises she showed me, to calm my mind. There was one she called The Countdown... I need to identify five things I can hear, four I can feel, three I hear, two I smell, one I taste... it's meant to anchor me to the present moment. The taste one is hard, but she said I can think of my favourite food...
One... my ceiling, lit by the sunlight. I sit up in bed.
Two... my dream journal on the table beside my...
Three... three black sheep.
In the doorway of my bedroom, I see sheep, their dark faces looking at me with those fiery, red eyes. I blink my eyes, and rub them, but the sheep are still there. I know I'm hallucinating, sheep don't have glowing eyes like that, but this is a persistent hallucination...
  "Go away," I say. "You're not real..."
One of the sheep is chewing idly as it stares at me, but the other two just stand there. I notice that the one nearest to me has two, dark horns on either side of its face, it must be a ram. I hear one of the sheep behind it snort.
  "I said, go away!" I say, getting out of bed. "You're a hallucination!"
I step closer, I can see the smokey wool on them, and they all look up to follow me with their crimson gaze. I notice some twigs caught in their coats, and dirt on their cloven hooves as I get closer. They look so real...
But no, no, they're not real, how could they have gotten in the house?
I step forward, and push the sheep nearest me - yuck, The wool is warm, and slightly oily in my fingers. Brrehrrr bleats the ram.
  "Get out of my house! - out of my head!" I yell. I move to shove the ram again, but it wrenches its head around, and bites my hand.
  "Aaagh!" I yell out in pain as the teeth dig into my skin.The sheep steps back, and lets go, and I stumble backwards, and trip over.

"Woah!" I call out, throwing my arms out. My hand smacks against my bedside lamp, tipping it over, and I glance around the dark.
  "What?" I mumble, blinking. It's dark, and I'm... I'm in bed? I sit up in bed, and look at the doorway of my room. In the skewed light of my bedside lamp, I can see there's no sheep. It wasn't a hallucination, it was a dream. I sigh, rubbing my eyes. I still feel tired, but it's dark, I must have slept for several hours... That's good, right?
I smile to myself, as I reach over and grab my lamp, turning it back upright. As I squeeze my hand around the stem, my hand hurts. I must have smacked it against the lamp pretty hard.
  "Ouch," I hiss, bringing my hand closer to my face. Sure enough there's a fast-swelling, dark mark on the back of my hand. I feel my whole hand throbbing as I watch as the blood rush under my skin, into an odd, crescent-moon shape. I wonder why it left such a weird mark, but then I see blood drip from my hand, and hear the light pay of blood dripping onto the soft blankets.
  "Oh, damn..." I say, putting my other hand under it. I didn't think it was bleeding. I see more blood drip from my hand. Huh, that's weird, it's not coming from the mark on the back of my hand...
I turn my hand over, and I see a nasty cut on my palm, it's the same shape as the other side, a mirror image, but deep enough to tear the skin. It looks just like a bite mark, just like where the sheep...
No, no, that's impossible, that was a dream.
I watch as a rivulet of blood trickles down my wrist from my upturned palm. But that's impossible... isn't it?

All Just a Dream... Sequence

There's no place like home... there's no place... Oh, it's you! That's funny, I just had the strangest dream. And you were there, and you were there, and you... well, no, not you, I don't like you. But most of you were there, and it was a beautiful place. Well, most of it was beautiful, but some of it wasn't very nice...

The part that I hated was that every movie ended with the reveal that it was all a dream. It made art seem an extra degree removed from relevance, so it was harder to engage with the plot.

Fiction is already fake, we know it's fake, but we set that aside when reading. However, it's a delicate balance (although some people are more willing to suspend their disbelief further than others). So, I don't know why stories go that extra step of saying that the fiction was fake.
You're telling me that the thing that I already know didn't happen, didn't even happen in the story? In a long series, sometimes this is done to maintain the structure of the continuity, and avoid the consequences... but if the dream (or virtual reality simulation, or vision quest, or story-within-a-story) doesn't have any consequences on the overall plot, then why waste time with it at all? Sure, some stories have character development, or someone changes drastically, or "doesn't wake up", or we learn that one of the people was fake, or some other cool thing that affects the story as a whole - that's awesome. But, unless you can come up with a real good reason to make the whole thing a dream, I think it's a bad idea. I once abandoned a story idea for a series, where it was all a dream, because I felt like it wasn't fair to the reader to have them buy a whole book that was all just a dream.

But, y'know, now that I'm awake, as much as I hate those kinds of endings, that's all I have to really say about it. But, there's another thing that been bothering me about dreams in stories. I understand why people like dreams in stories. You can get some insight as to how a character thinks, you can have some magical or prophetic vision to move the story forward or you can represent trauma with their nightmares. Sure, there are also some writers that abuse dream sequences for dumb fake-outs, jumpscares, or just the spectacle of weird or surreal imagery... those are some downsides, but either way, there are enough upsides to justify dreams in fiction.
But, how do you represent a dream in a story? In a story where it was All Just A Dream, the dream reveal is usually a twist, so the story is written pretty realistically, to try to hide the twist from the reader. Like, in The Wizard of Oz, a story famous (or, infamous, depending on who you're talking to) for its ending - I even paid satirical homage to it at the top of this post - and in that story it's all a dream in the end, but that was arguably foreshadowed by the existence of witches, munchkins, talking scarecrows and magic in the story. Or, there was a really, really bad movie I saw earlier this year... and I'm about to give MASSIVE SPOILERS for Stay, the 2005 Ewan McGregor, Ryan Gosling movie - but, in that movie, the whole plot turns out to be the coma-dream, or dying vision, or something of a character who dies in a car crash; but, several times through the movie there's just bad editing, flicking from one angle to another mid-dialogue, and that was supposedly done to foreshadow that it was a dream. Also, the main character always wears trousers that are too short because - and I'm not making this up - when the dying guy looked up at him from the road, he could see his socks, so that's how he always imagined him... what? You might think that's kind of interesting, but personally I think it's really stupid. Now, I admit that this is meant to be some kind of dying vision or something, so it's not the same as a dream, but my problem is that, it still doesn't feel right to me. I haven't died before, but for some reason, I don't think think "jarring editing" represents how that would feel. - END OF SPOILERS - for that, but honestly, it's a bad movie, I recommend you don't watch it. But with both of these movies because the surreal quality was the twist, it just rubs me the wrong way, even if they tried to foreshadow it.

See, there is a fundamental issue with dreams in fiction, and it is that when we dream, we're asleep. I mean, that's a given, but my point is that when we're asleep our brain isn't as active, so we're not as rational, or perceptive.
This means that you can be going back to your old primary school, or walking underwater, or even flying and it doesn't seem at all unusual - in essence, one of the symptoms of dreaming is chronic suspension of disbelief.
But its not just the experience of dreams that's a little odd but also the look and feel. In dreams, because you're asleep (and because your brain uses a lot of shortcuts to conserve energy and effort), your brain often doesn't recreate things "fully". For instance, your language centres are usually inactive when you're asleep, which is why people don't speak properly, and why it's often difficult to read books or any written words - or, if you can read, if you look away from written words then look back, the words often change. Also, because your motor cortex has been disabled, movement can feel restricted or floaty, like you're underwater. Also, because the hippocampus plays a role when you're asleep, making it harder to recall finer details, some things in dreams can be incomplete, fuzzy or barebones.

This can be an issue when it comes to fiction, since if you try to do all of that in a book or a movie, the audience can't suspend their disbelief that far - because they're awake - and especially if you're going for an "all just a dream" twist you can't make dreams feel too dreamlike, or it will either be blatantly obvious that it's a dream, or it will confuse the hell out of your reader.

Now, I have some seen some interesting stories that play into the weirdness of dreams for their plot. I call these metadream sequences, wherein the dreamer is aware that they're in a dream... I suppose you could call these "lucid dream sequences", but I don't, and it's my blog post so... pbbt.
For one example, you need look no further than House, especially the Season 4 finale two-parter "House's Head"/"Wilson's Heart" - in this story, brain trauma causes Dr Gregory House to forget some vital clue in a medical mystery, so he dreams, hallucinates and even hypnotizes himself to search his mind for the clue. In the episode, House indulges in fantasies, blurry visions and mind games to show that he is dreaming as well as the flaws in his memory and way his mind manifests his obsession with puzzle-solving. There are some brilliant uses of lighting and cinematography in this episode. I especially love that he has several dream sequences in a bus - as he had a bus crash, causing his brain trauma - and as he's on the empty bus, there are patterns of rolling light past the windows, since he would most distinctly remember the bus when it was moving, but the bus is empty, and there's nothing visible outside. It's a pretty cool effect, and I think it does a great job of creating that dreamlike quality.
Or, for another example, there's a cool dream sequence in The Wild Thornberrys Movie that serves as the call to adventure. The dream is amazingly trippy and surreal. Eliza sees the lost cheetah cub, Tally, in her dream, floating as if in water. Then, at the top of a pile of rocks, Shaman Mnyambo appears in the form of a talking tree. The sequence perfectly recreates the floaty feeling of a dream.
In fact, this sequence is what first opened my eyes to the many possible ways that people can represent dreams in media.
I'd seen my fair share of dream sequences in television shows, but because they have to manage a limited budget, most shows just reuse the main set (or animation frame), and just start and end the sequence with a wobbly screen transition, and harp music. Seeing something that tried to make a dream look like a dream?

Now these are all movies, but I write my stories... and when it comes to literature, there are advantages and disadvantages when it comes to dream sequences, and both are due to the facets of the medium itself. Namely, when reading a book, all of the imagery, characters and scenery are being composed in the reader's mental theatre - pieced together by their own mental props. So, if you say "Stacey was standing in her high-school", then even if you don't describe anything else, the reader will imagine some vague "high-school" either like their own, or one they've seen in media. This is the same sort of thing your brain does when you dream, so you can make a scene feel dreamy just by these kinds of vagueries.
However, the big disadvantage is due to the same issue. If you want the main character to encounter a clown-faced cockroach with chainsaw-claws for hands, well, you're forcing the reader's "mental costume designer" to build this thing from scratch. And that's just a monster, what if you want them to be in a school, which is furnished with the desk, bed and cupboards from their childhood bedroom? If this was a movie, you could just do that, but for a book, you can't get away with that without telling the reader to imagine it first - hiring their "mental propmaster" to do it for you - so, it's a lot harder to sneak in surreal stuff. It's still sort of possible, but it takes a lot more effort, and it's rife with potential for sustainment of disbelief, which will take your reader out of the story.

Unfortunately, the most common example I've seen of dream sequences in fiction stem from Goosebumps books. Goosebumps books love using dream sequences for cheap fake-out scares, and false starts. There's a lot of Goosebumps books which start with a nightmare sequence, just to confuse you. Ironically, even though there's a book called "Don't Go To Sleep!", the story with the most dream sequences is apparently "Monster Blood II", even starting off with a two dream sequences, back to back. The entire first chapter is a dream, meaning the introduction to this book never happened, and the second chapter ends with a daydream sequence. That's right, an imagine spot, which only exists to make the chapter cliff-hanger more suspenseful, but just seems lame, and makes me a little concerned about this kid, since it features animal abuse. The first chapter uses the same trick as The Wizard of Oz, capitalizing on the fantastical aspects of the story - the first chapter has Evan Ross dealing with his monsterfied pet dog, after it ate monster blood. You can see how that might be a believable opening in a Monster Blood sequel...
So, in a sense, it's a good and a bad example of how to do a nightmare sequence since it's clearly surreal, yet the reader might believe it's happening, making it a good "dream"; but, it makes the story worse, since your first line is the initial handshake you have with your reader, the greeting that can help define your relationship. If the first line - let alone the first whole chapter - is all a pointless dream sequence for an unearned scare? What does that say about the way you treat your audience? To me, it says you're willing to waste their time to scare them, rather than use your own time to earn that emotional response, and develop a good story.
But hey, how about another example - this time, a good one. I'm a big fan of the Wardstone Chronicles books (also called the Spook's Books, because of the titling conceit), and in the first book, there is a minor, but fascinating plot point about knowing when you're dreaming, and when you're awake. The first book, "The Spook's Apprentice" is about an apprentice monster-hunter (called a Spook), learning the tricks of the monster-hunting trade, especially witches. It may, or may not, have partially inspired my own Hunter's Guide to Monsters series... In the book, one of the lessons Tom must learn is the difference between waking and dreaming, because some subtle magics can trick you into dreaming while awake - seeing things that aren't there. There's even a moment in the book where Tom, the main character, is being tormented by a monster, and has to wake up before he can escape. I won't spoil the moment, but I think it's very well done, and the important thing is - because the nightmare is caused by magic, and the main character has to wake up so he can escape, the entire dream helps move the plot forward. That's the hardest thing with dream sequences...

But, even in these literary examples, whilst fantasy and horror stories with speculative fiction elements can have monsters and madness happen - and due to genre conventions, it doesn't seem out of place - they can toy with surreality, but they're still not quite right, are they? The reason I enjoyed the example from The Wild Thornberrys is because it felt dreamy, floaty, flowing in the way that sleeping minds flow from idea to idea.
I think, after this investigation, I've been lead to two key things to keep in mind when working on dream sequences - or nightmare sequences - in stories.

Firstly, it doesn't matter whether your story is speculative fiction or not, because there's a variety of ways that dreams manifest. Yes, sometimes you're floating through space with your koala sidekick, and sometimes you're going through a memory, and things are just slightly off. So, whilst I applaud dream sequences that take a deep-dive into the surreal, that's not the endmost and utmost of dreams - sometimes, dreams are boring, and so some dream sequences can be understated, and still be realistic.
But secondly, fiction is already playing a complicated game of suspension of disbelief, and so if you try to stretch that with a freaky-deaky dream sequence, you might be going a stretch too far. So, whilst it isn't always the most realistic that characters have full conversations in their dreams, and the rooms they're in seem to remain solid and unshifting, despite how warped settings can get in dreams... the story has to come first. So long as you put in a little effort to add a surreal quality - don't get lazy, and rely on harp music and wavy transition effects to convince the audience you're in a dream sequence - then cheating a little can be forgiven for the sake of the story.

I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, and I've learnt that there's no place like home, and I don't want to go anywhere else ever again... wait, really? That's the moral of The Wizard of Oz? Well, to hell with that! I've stayed at home enough with these quarantines and lockdowns, and I'm looking forward to getting out of my house.
So, Until Next Time, can you tell the difference between waking and dreaming?

Counting Black Sheep, (Phase 1)

Whenever I shut my eyes, I see my own death. I see the dark figure in wispy cloth, I hear the heavy breathing, and I feel those icy fingers wrap around my throat. For three days now, I haven't slept.
I told my father about it yesterday, and now he's taking me to see a shrink. I don't think I'm crazy, but maybe I am. Most people aren't afraid of going to sleep. I mean, I'm not scared of sleep... not really. I'm scared of dying.

The car pulls off Bell Road into a small carpark in front of a squat, square building. Dad parks the car and switches off the engine.
  "Do you want me to go in with you?" he asks.
  "No, I'll be okay," I say.
  "Are you sure?" he says. Before I can answer, he adds. "I'll be back in an forty minutes."
  "Okay, Dad."
Without taking off his seatbelt, Dad leans over, and wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. I wrap my arms around him, in an awkward, but still comforting side-on hug.
  "You'll be okay," he says, and he kisses the top of my head. By the way he seems to be shaking, I think he's trying to convince himself, more than me.
  "Yeah, Dad," I say.
He lets go, and I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car. I head to the front door of the building. I don't look back, but I know Dad is watching me, making sure I go inside. I don't know if it's because he's worried, or because he wants to make sure I actually go inside. I really don't like the idea of talking to a therapist. When Dad suggested it, there was a lot of yelling. Mostly from me.
I open the glass door and head inside the air-conditioned waiting room.
  "Are you Bianca Wardell?" asks the receptionist. It's bright outside, so I blink a few times to focus on the lady in a colourful, floral dress.
  "Yeah," I say, wandering up to the counter. "My Dad booked an appointment for me today?"
  "Yes, Doctor Jacobs is just with another patient, but they'll be done in a minute. Please, take a seat."
The lady nods towards to a comfy-looking, pale blue couch by the door, and I head over to sit down. On the opposite wall, there's some abstract art, and one of those water-coolers with the big, plastic tank on the top. I glance around at the art on the wall. I can't tell what it's supposed to be. Is this some kind of test? Sit the patient down, and if they think they see faces in the art on the walls, they're crazy? Well, I don't see any faces, I just see swipes of paint. I'm not crazy.
I look at the water cooler. There's a soft humming in the waiting room, and I don't know if it's coming from the water cooler, or the air-conditioner. I feel so tired... I sigh and rub my eyes. I wish I could sleep... I hear heavy, ragged breathing. "Bianca..."
I feel cold fingers crawling across my shoulder, and snap my eyes open. The receptionist lets go of my shoulder. "Bianca? The doctor is ready."
  "Did I fall asleep?" I ask, feeling a tightness rising in my chest.
  "Doctor Jacobs will see you now. Room number six, just down the hall," says the receptionist, gesturing behind the front counter.
I take a deep deep breath, trying to slow my beating heart, and stand up.
  "Uh... thanks," I say, and I head down the hall. She has cold fingers... at least, I hope those were her fingers I was feeling, and not the fingers of death.
I head for room six, which is waiting with the door open, and I head inside. The room has a couch in front of the window, with the blinds drawn, some plants in the corners, a filing cabinet near the door, and a desk with a computer and several files. At the desk, in a swivel chair, is sitting a thin, African woman with long, straightened hair wearing a business suit, and with thin, wire-framed glasses prominent on her nose.
  "It's lovely to meet you, Bianca," says the woman, standing and offering me a handshake. "I'm Doctor Jacobs."
She has a soft, American accent. I wonder when she came to Australia from America. I take her handshake, and I'm comforted to note that she has warm hands. She offers me a seat on the couch, and closes the door.
  "So, can you tell me why you're here today?" she asks, as she sits down in the chair once more.
  "I'm not crazy," I say. Doctor Jacobs chuckles.
  "No, you're not crazy. You're here because you want help."
  "I'm here because my Dad thinks I'm crazy."
  "We're not here to judge people. People think that if they say the wrong thing, they'll be declared 'crazy'... but look," Doctor Jacobs opens up the drawers on her desk. "Do you see a stamp labelled 'Crazy'?"
The drawer is full of blank forms, with some scattered pens. I shake my head.
  "It's not my job to judge you," she says, closing the drawers. "It's my job to help you. So tell me, how can I help you?"
  "Well, I... uh, I had a bad dream," I say, with a sigh.
  "Oh? What kind of dream?" asks Doctor Jacobs, leaning closer.
  "I had a nightmare. It was... no, this is stupid," I say, folding my arms.
  "It isn't stupid," says Dr Jacobs.
  "I can't sleep, because I had a bad dream! I sound crazy..."
  "Nobody is calling you crazy," says the doctor. "Nobody except you. But why does it matter if you're crazy? What do you think will happen?"
  "Well, if you're crazy, you're... y'know, crazy. They take you away."
  "Nobody is going to take you away," says Dr Jacobs. "This is my office, and nobody is allowed through that door unless one of us is in danger," she says, gesturing towards the door.
  "Crazy people are dangerous."
  "Are you planning on hurting yourself?" asks the doctor. "Or me?""
  "No."
  "Then nobody is going to take you anywhere that you don't want to go. This is a safe place," she says. "Now, please, tell me about this dream."
I sigh once more, looking into her eyes. She is staring at me, expectantly.
  "It wasn't just a dream. It felt so real..." I say. "I felt like I woke up in this strange bedroom. It was weird, and dark, and I didn't know where I was. The bed was different from mine, one of those ones with four tall posts on the corners. I tried to get out of bed. But, I felt so weak... it's like my body was being held down. I cried out for help, but I couldn't speak, my throat hurt... like I was dehydrated, y'know?"
Dr Jacobs nods, so I continue.
"So, I pulled myself out of the bed, it felt like the blanket weighed a tonne, but I got out, and I fell on the floor, and I was stumbling to get up. I called out again, and when I got to my feet, Death was standing there."
  "Death?" asks Dr Jacobs, frowning.
  "See, I knew you'd think I was crazy..."
  "No, no, what I mean to say is, how did death look? Was this the classical skeleton, with the big... uh..."
  "it didn't have a scythe. It was this shadow - the room was dark, but this thing was like pitch-black, inky black, but I could see, like, a ragged hood over its head, although I couldn't see the face, or skull, underneath. It was wearing wispy, ragged clothing, hanging off it- uh, off of it..."
I glance at the therapist, but she waits patiently for me to continue.
  "Then, uh... that's when it, uh..." I feel my breathing get shallow as I remember the dream. I can still feel its cold, skeletal fingers around my throat. "Then it grabbed me - my neck. It grabbed my neck, and it, uh, it just squeezed, choking me."
  "And that's when you woke up?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "No! No, that's... it, I mean I did, but no... it just kept squeezing, and I could hear it breathing heavily. I was so weak, but I remember, trying to stop it, for like, over a minute. It was strangling me to death. I only woke up when I died."
  "Okay..." says Dr Jacobs. "And you haven't been able to sleep, since?"
  "I've tried," I say. "But every time I try, I see it. It's like it's waiting for me..."
  "Do you think it's real?" asks Dr Jacobs.
The right answer is probably 'no', but... I want to tell her the truth.
  "Yes. I mean... obviously, it's not, right? It's a dream. But, it felt so real."
  "If you know it's a dream, why do you say it's real?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "Because I felt like I was dying," I say.
  "Have you ever felt like that before?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "No," I say.
  "Then, how do you know that you were dying?"
  "Because I couldn't breathe!" I snap.
  "I'm sorry, what I meant is... sometimes, traumatic memories can cause us to have trauma dreams. I wasn't trying to dismiss your words, I simply meant to ask, are you sure that you've never felt like you were choking, or drowning, ever before? Or, ever had anything tight around your throat?"
  "No," I say. "Not until after the dream."
  "And this is the first time you've had this dream?"
  "Yes."
Doctor Jacobs opens a drawer, takes out a form, and places it on the desk.
  "Have you had trouble sleeping before?"
  "No, not at all," I say.
  "And, anyone else in your family?" she asks. I feel a tightness in my chest.
  "Uh, yeah..." I mutter. "My Mum, she died in her sleep. And my grandpa."
  "On your mother's side?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "Yeah," I say. "They just stopped breathing. They said it was sleep apnea."
  "Is that why you can't sleep?"
  "No. I don't have sleep apnea," I say. "My Mum wasn't overweight, and neither was my grandfather. So, when I was ten, Dad took me to a sleep clinic in Darwin, to see if there was something genetic. But, I don't have sleep apnea... I don't even snore. They said there's nothing wrong with me."
  "That's not what I meant. You've lost two members of your family, in their sleep, do you think that's why you can't sleep?"
  "Grandpa died before I was born," I say.
  "And what about your mother?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "That was five years ago," I say.
  "And, did you have trouble sleeping then?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "No..." I say. Then quickly, I add, "I mean, I loved her. I cried. Like, a lot. I still miss her, even today."
  "It's okay," says Dr Jacobs. "I'm not accusing you of anything. People grieve in different ways. But, two people in your family - forgive me - but, they both suffocated in their sleep. Now, you're having dreams where you're being strangled. I don't want to coerce your opinion, so if you think I'm off-base, then please tell me. But, do you think these are connected?"
  "...I don't want them to be," I say.
Dr Jacobs cocks her head to the side, listening. I sigh.
  "Look, they don't know it was sleep apnea, do they? All they know is that she stopped breathing. And when the doctors said my grandfather had sleep apnea, of course they'll chalk that up to family history. But, what if it was something else?"
  "Something like what happened to you?"
  "Yeah..." I say. "I know it sounds crazy."
  "It doesn't sound crazy. I really don't like that word. Is it so crazy to be afraid of dying in your sleep, when two of your famly have in the past."
  "I guess not... but it was just a dream."
  "Dreams can mean a lot. People with P.T.S.D. often relive their trauma; anxious people have anxiety dreams... and if we listen to music, we hear it in our dreams. I'm not suggesting that your dreams are trying to kill you, Bianca, but what if you were having trouble breathing, and your brain conjured up this reaper to try to make sense of it - of this strangulation you were feeling."
  "So, you think I was actually choking in my sleep?"
  "Do you?" she asks.
I rub my hand over my throat. I can vividly remember those, cold bony hands.
  "Yes..."
  "Then, I believe it as well."
  "Alright... so, then, what do I do about it?" I ask.
  "Well, that's up to you," says Dr Jacobs. "What do you want to do about it?"
  "I want it to stop," I say. "I want to be able to sleep again, without this thing creeping up on me."
  "Okay, that's good. It's good to have a clear goal. Is there anything else you'd like to work towards?"
  "No, nothing," I say. "I just want to sleep. I'm so tired..."
  "You said you've been awake for three days, is that right?"
  "Yeah... three days and nights."
  "Have you tried taking sleeping pills?"
  "NO!" I snap, "I don't want to take drugs..."
  "That's okay," says Dr Jacobs. "Like I said, it's up to you. These are your goals, and your decisions to make. If you want to avoid chemical therapy, then I won't prescribe you anything."
  "Okay... sorry," I say, rubbing my eyes. "I don't mean to be so cranky. I'm just tired, that's all..."
  "It's okay," she says. "I understand what you're going through. When I had my son, he cried constantly, and I didn't sleep for eight days. In the first few days, I was grumpy and cruel. After a week, I started hallucinating."
  "Hallucinating?"
  "Oh, yes. Your brain craves sleep. Without it, we can't function, and your mind starts playing tricks on you."
  "And after eleven days, you die," I add, grimly.
  "Eleven days? Who told you that?" asks Dr Jacobs, frowning.
  "I read it on the internet."
  "Well, it's just not true. You will die without sleep, yes; but it can take several months, up to a year," says Dr Jacobs, smirking. "So, if you're afraid that you'll drop dead in a week, well, you can relax. We've got time."
  "Okay... well, that's good to know." I say.
  "Alright then. So, it sounds to me like this fear of dying is keeping you up, because as you drift off, it's triggering a panic response that's snapping you awake again, does that sound like I'm in the right ballpark?"
  "I guess so, yeah," I say, with a shrug.
  "Alright. Now, I know you said you don't want drugs, but I have to ask, have you taken anti-anxiety medication before, or would you give that a go?"
  "No, I don't want drugs," I say.
  "That's okay, there's several methods of dealing with anxiety, drugs are just one of them. For you, why don't we try a combination of meditation, and a dream journal?"
  "Okay, but what's a dream journal?" I ask.
  "Oh, it's a combination of a sleep diary, and a dream report," says Dr Jacobs. She opens the other drawer of her desk, and takes out a small, cheap exercise book. "If you're having bad dreams, writing them out can help you to come to terms with them."
  "But, I'm not sleeping," I say, taking the book from her. "How can I write down my dreams, if I don't have any?"
  "This is also to write down what's keeping you up, when you try to sleep, and what's on your mind. The idea is to work on your sleep hygiene - to identify what's keeping you awake. But, give it time. You might even get a night of sleep before our session next Thursday. Then we can talk about your dreams."
  "Okay," I say, flipping through the little book. I see that she's written headings on the first two pages. Tiredness Level, Time to Bed, Caffeine, Time to Wake... "Wait, did you say 'next Thursday'? Isn't that a little soon?"
  "It's just to monitor your progress. We don't want you going too long without sleep. It can be dangerous."
  "I thought you said it wouldn't kill me in eleven days. It takes months."
  "It does... I'm not worried about you dying, Bianca. But, going for weeks without sleep can make you sick. You'll have problems with your memory, have terrible mood swings, hallucinate, feel nauseous. I'll do everything I can to keep you healthy, and if you ever need me, here" Doctor Jacobs takes one of her cards from her desk, and holds it out to me. "-this is my card. You can call me during business hours. After hours, if there's an emergency or you want to hurt yourself, call Lifeline. Their number is on there as well."
  "Okay, thanks," I say, taking the card.
  "Alright. Now, I'd like to show you a couple of ways to meditate, and hopefully these can help you calm down before bed."
  "Meditate? Isn't that, like, a Buddhist thing?"
  "Not really. Would that bother you?"
  "I dunno. It just seems... I mean, I'm not religious."
  "Religions don't hold a monopoly on meditation. Prayers and chants can be calming, but it's not because of religion, it's because focusing on one thing, helps to clear your mind. Yes, you can meditate on God, or a holy chant; but, you can also focus on something simple, like a campfire... or, you could even count sheep, to try to clear your mind."
  "Count sheep? You want me to count sheep?"
  "It doesn't matter what you focus on, so long as it helps you get to sleep. Counting sheep isn't the best option, but I have a few we can try. These don't all work for everyone, but we'll see what works for you. Does that sound good?"
  "Yeah, I'd like that," I say.
  "Okay," says Dr Jacobs, smiling. "Let's start with some breathing exercises..."

Breathe in slow, count to four; hold your breath, count to five; then breath out slow, count to six. I practiced it more on the car ride home. Dr Jacobs showed me a whole lot of breathing exercises, and that one was the most relaxing. But now, for the moment of truth...
I sit on the edge of my bed, wearing my long, comfy nightshirt. On my bedside table, I have the dream journal that Dr Jacobs gave me. I take out a pen, and fill out the Left page, labelled "Before Sleep". Time to Bed: 9 o'clock. Day Naps: Drifted off in Waiting Room. Caffeine: No. Pre-sleep activity: Wrote in this Journal, About to Meditate. Tiredness Level (0-5): 4. Stress Level (0-5): 4.
There's a space underneath to write what I did that day, but I leave it blank. I don't want to spend too long on this, I just want to see if I can sleep.
I put the dream journal on my bedside table, by the lamp. Dr Jacobs said that it's better to make it totally dark, when I try to sleep, so I switch off the lamp before lying down. I'm staring up at the dark ceiling. I'm not used to sleeping in the dark, but I close my eyes. My eyes are stinging, they hurt from staying awake so long, so I press my head into my pillow, ready to sleep. I still feel a tightness in my chest, so I start meditating.
Breathe in, one... two... three... four.... Hold breathe, one... two... three... four... five...
Breathe out, one... two... three... four... five... six...
Like before, as I breathe out, I feel like my body is deflating, and taking all of the tension out with it. I feel that tightness in my chest loosen.
Breate in, one... two... three... four.... as I hold my breath, I can feel my pulse slowing.
My frantic heart is calming down... Breathe out, one... two... I can feel myself drifting off...
Breathe in, one... two... three... four.... Hold breathe, one... two... three... four... five...
Breathe out, one... two... three... four... five... six...
Breathe in-
I feel a cold hand grasp around my throat. I snap my eyes open, and I see an impossibly black figure looming over me. My empty lungs strain against the fingers, and I grab at my throat, feeling the wrinkled, bony hands, cold like ice and vice-like in their grip, and I hear the ragged, heavy breathing as the thing squeezes tighter and tighter.
No, Stop! Please! I can't Breathe!
The blood is rushing to my head, and I feel like my face is going to explode from the pressure. I reach for the thing's face, but it's arms are longer than mine, so I desperately paw at the things arms. But my vision is getting blurry... the darkness is taking over... I can't... breathe...
I gasp for breathe and sit up in bed.
It got me... it got me again...
  "D... Dad?" I gasp. I can breathe, but I can still feel those fingers around my throat. "Daddy?!"
I call out, but he can't hear me. He's still asleep. I'm all alone... it didn't work. I feel tears welling in my eyes.
  "It didn't work..." I say, burying my head in my hands.
I just want to sleep. Please, just let me sleep... Why won't you let me sleep?! I sniffle, and wipe the tears out of my eyes, gasping from the wetness in my throat.
I switch my bedside light on, and breathe slowly, as I wipe away the tears.
  "Come on, Bianca..." I say to myself. "You're fifteen, this is silly."
I lie back down on my pillow, and take a few more deep breaths.
I consider doing more counted breathing to calm down, but the idea of exhaling all of my breath at once sounds terrifying right now. Okay, no more breathing exercises... Dr Jacobs showed me a few more ways of meditation.
I've tried Counted Breathing. Coherent breathing? No... Belly breathing?
Ugh, why do so many of these have to involve breathing?
I stare up at the ceiling, lit by my bedside lamp, remembering what Dr Jacobs said about focusing your mind. So, as I stare at the ceiling, I imagine a wooden, picket fence... and visualize a cute, fluffy sheep, wandering over, and jumping the fence. One.
I imagine another, identical sheep, wandering over, and jumping. Two.
Then another sheep jumps the fence. Three.
I wonder how many it will take before I drift off to sleep.

I didn't sleep that night. I counted over one thousand, three hundred and twenty sheep before I realized it was past midnight. Then I stopped and just laid there, staring at the ceiling until sunrise. Now, I'm sitting on the school bus, headed for school, staring out the window.
Four days. I've now been four days without sleep. When Dad asked me if I slept this morning, I told him the truth, that I only slept for an hour before I woke up. But, I didn't tell him that I saw the reaper again. I still felt uncomfortable about crying in the middle of the night... I didn't want to tell him I'd called out and he hadn't answered. He already blames himself for being a single-parent, for not being able to save my Mum, I don't want him to blame himself for not saving me...
I stare out the window, trying to give my mind some kind of rest before I get to school. The houses drift by, as we head down the road. I watch the people wandering past, heading to work, or going shopping. I'm sure they all got a good night's sleep last night. Why am I the only one that can't?
The bus comes to an intersection, and stops, and I glance at the people waiting. As I do, I feel something staring at me, two glaring, red eyes on the other side of the street. I blink my weary eyes, and focus on the face looking at me. I can't see who it is, so I blink my eyes, to focus on the person standing under the shelter of a shopfront, but as my eyes focus, I realize that the reason the person looks so dark is because they're coloured completely black. And it's not a person, it looks like a sheep. A black sheep, with two red, glowing eyes on either side of its head. It's standing perfectly still, staring at me. Why is there a sheep in the middle of the Hollow Falls town square? Nobody else seems to be looking at it, but it's standing alone in the side of the road. Its woolly coat is a smokey, grey-black, but its face is as black as coal.
As I watch, I see its jaw move, like it's chewing something, but otherwise, it is perfectly still, staring right at me. I hear the engine of the bus revv, and a car horn from behind us. I flinch at the sound, looking around, then I look back at the sheep. It's still there, staring. As the bus moves, the sheep turns its head to follow the bus - to follow me. I lose it as the oncoming traffic comes the other direction, blocking my view. I sit back in my chair. That was weird, it's like it's eyes were glowing... I've never seen sheep with such red eyes before. I glance out the window again, and everything looks normal. Maybe it was just my imagination.
Or, more likely, it was my mind playing tricks. Four days without sleep...
Doctor Jacobs warned me that I might start hallucinating. Maybe I'm hallucinating sheep? After counting over a thousand of them last night, I must have sheep on the brain. I try to ignore it, but the rest of the ride to school, I can't get it out of my mind. Those staring red eyes, they looked so real. If that was a hallucination, how will I be able to tell what's real, from what isn't?

My Need/Hate Relationship with Sleep

I have seen, in certain circles of culture, that people seem to love going to bed. This seems to be due to either a general nostalgia, or desire for comfort, to wrap up in blankets, which has mental health vibes of self-care, since sleep is good for the mind; there's also some kind of lazy positivity that is in part self-aware and self-deprecating, but in other parts defeatist and self-critical, since sleep is akin to being lazy; or, in some sad cases, a kind of "doomer", "pseudo-cidal" disaffected apathy that you see in mid- & post-teenaged hakikkomori types, since it's coveting the depression aesthetic & the idea that being awake, or alive, is "lame". But I don't see why. If anything, I wish I could always stay awake. The Word of the Day is: 'INSOMNIA'

Insomnia /in'somneeə/ n. Inability to obtain sufficient sleep, especially when chronic; difficulty in falling or staying asleep; sleeplessness.

So, there's a broad spectrum of people that seem to "enjoy" sleep. Whilst I understand these mindsets, I can never truly empathize with them because I honestly Hate sleep. That may be a little controversial, since even those who don't prefer sleep, often like sleep, at times. It's meant to be comfortable, restful and peaceful. But personally? No, I hate it. I hate every single unconscious second of it. I hate that it intrudes on my waking life in the form of tiredness; I hate that it dictates my schedule & I absolutely hate that I have to spend a third of my life in this incoherent, thoughtless void.
And yes, I say "thoughtless void" because I don't seem to dream very much. Now, full disclosure, this may in part be because I take anti-anxiety medication, which has been known to make dreams less frequent or common, so that may be the reason why I consider most sleep a dark void. Also, from what I've read, dreams are easier to recall if you put in the effort, and as I am disinterested in the personal experience of sleep and dreams, I don't do that - so that might be why I don't dream very often. But, I still don't like sleep, whether I dream or not.
Even when I dream, I still hate it because, due to the inactive parts of my brain, I can't tell what is and isn't real. So, I end up either believing nonsense until I come to my senses after I wake up, or I waste an immeasurable amount of time trying to make sense of a senseless world - and that's even if we ignore nightmares.

See, even when it's an "enjoyable" dream, I still don't like it. For example, I occasionally have dreams where I fly. Who doesn't want to fly, right? I mean, whenever I dream that I fly, I have to flap my arms... that's kind of annoying, and I don't know why my brain insists on flying like a bird instead of superman, but that's beside the point... when I dream, sometimes I can fly, and sure, that's fun. But, guess what happens every time I wake up? I excitedly throw off the covers, ready to go tell everyone about this amazing discovery. But, as the rest of my brain wakes up, I realize that I can't actually fly, and that it was all just a lie my brain made up, and I'm disappointed. This happens every time. Because to me, the experience of flying isn't as much fun as being able to let everyone else try it too.
Or hey, what about sex dreams? They're good fun, right? Well, again, no. Firstly, it's not as good as the real thing, since I'm not feeling everything; secondly, it often uses people I know, and that can make me feel awkward & thirdly, it's called a "wet dream" for a reason...
If it's something impossible, then I don't want to do it because it's not something I can enjoy when fully conscious, and if it's something that is possible, then I'd rather do it in real life.
The worst part is, I have heard stories about people who are inspired by dreams - even artists, poets or writers who find inspiration for their art, writing or stories from dreams. Well, maybe I'm just unlucky, but my dreams never have a coherent plot. My dreams are always nonsensical. There's not even elements that I can use, because they often rely on some surreal context which is impossible to replicate. So, no, none of my dreams are inspiring enough to even write stories from. So, my point is, I hate sleep and I hate dreams.

But I can already here some people saying "well, what about comfort? Don't you enjoy lying down in bed, and getting all snuggled up in blankets when you sleep?"
NO! Look, I am not a monster, I enjoy a nice snuggly blanket and I enjoy being warm... but I hate that I have to do it for sleep. Think about it this way: if you enjoy the sensation of being wrapped up in your blanket, then when you fall asleep you lose that sensation as you lose consciousness and your paralyzed body becomes numb to this world. For me, I like getting snuggled up in a blanket to watch a movie on the couch, or to read a book. Then I get to enjoy the comfort. But your body doesn't want that comfort for you, it wants it for your brain to go into standby mode without your body being exposed to the elements.
And people might be saying "Yes, but don't you like getting a good night's rest?"
But don't you see? You've fallen into the trap - the only reason we feel the need to rest for an entire night is because sleep overcomes us with tiredness. I would much prefer if I didn't get tired at all. Now, I know that's not realistic, we are using energy and it needs to be replenished - but, what if instead of losing consciousness, we just... rested? Y'know, like you usually do after a lot of work? I prefer to lie down and daydream than let sleep take over - since at least when I daydream, I'm still in control, and I'm thinking about something that's real.
Y'know, there was an episode of American Dad that is my ultimate fantasy. I don't care about the plot or the b-story, but in an episode called "Stan Time", the C.I.A. reveals that they invented a pill which eliminates the need for sleep. It recuperates anyone who takes it, with all the energy needed for a 24-hour period. Doesn't that sound like bliss? A pill that removes the need for sleep... I would kill for something like that. Whilst I reference American Dad, I'm sure some others have thought of the concept as well because it's a beautiful idea - and that's what would make me truly happy: benign insomnia.

At first, I used to say that I have a love/hate relationship with sleep. Because I don't really like it, but I do get tired a lot, and so I sleep in sometimes. But, the more I think about it, the more I realize that this isn't some compromise between sleep and myself - it's an abusive relationship. I hate that I have to sleep, but sleep forces me to feel tired, then lose consciousness. If I try to fight back, and stay awake, like I truly want to, then sleep punishes me by making me even more tired, and then intruding on the rest of my day. The fact of the matter is, I like being awake because I like being alive. I like doing things, seeing things, experiencing this reality... but sleep takes that away from me - it takes a whole third of my life away from me. And if I try to leave it behind, then the abusive relationship turns deadly, and sleep threatens to kill me if I don't get enough sleep.

I chose an abusive relationship metaphor, but you could just as easily use an addiction metaphor - one that kills you with withdrawal symptoms. But, at the end of the day, I just don't want to go to sleep. I wish I could stay awake, but I can't. So, I am trapped in this cycle of falling asleep, and waking up, only to need to fall asleep again.

I'm not scared of sleep, I just find it ceaselessly annoying and frustrating, but it only takes the slightest tweak to make this whole situation horrifying... this kafkaesque nightmare of being trapped in a body that doesn't function as I had hoped. But, that is taking it to the extreme. Like I said, I'm not scared of falling asleep, I just hate it - I'm not somnnophobic, but I am a sleep bigot. And I'm not sure exactly what I was hoping to achieve with this post, except to say:
     "My name is Matt, and I hate sleep. And if you hate it too, well, you're not alone..."

I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, and Until Next time, I'll see you again in the waking world.

Nightmare Monsters

Nightmares can be absolutely terrifying. I haven't had a nightmare in a good, long while, but they can be very upsetting - I remember I once had a dream where my backyard was infested with the shadows of giant spiders. It was weird and dist
urbing. So, ever since we could dream, people have imagined monsters that haunt our dreams. Either they cause or feed off of our nightmares, they're born from or live within nightmares, or they come out of our nightmares to try to hurt or kill us...

I've been doing some research into these dream-reapers, these nightmare creatures, to compile a list of some of the scariest amongst them, to see just what kind of nightmares we've come up with.

However, this was harder than I thought it would be. If you try looking up "nightmare monsters" you get a lot of videogames, music and art which don't involve dreams at all, since the keyword /nightmare/ is used hyperbolically in a lot of media, as is the word "dream" and "monster", so this took a lot more effort than usual. I did manage to find what I was looking for, but it means I found a few Honourable Mentions along the way:

i. DROWZEE (Pokémon)
I knew I could find these creatures, because I'd seen them before, right? So, I started with Drowzee, from the Pokémon franchise, I remembered it from the anime series, it's meant to do something with your dreams, right? Well, it "eats" dreams according to the PokéDex... but if you look at Drowzee's move-list from leveling up, "Dream Eater", a move which drains life from sleeping pokémon, isn't one that Drowzee learns "naturally" in any of the main games. Sure, it can learn "Dream Eater", from TM42 (switched to TM85, in later instalments) but a TM, or "technical machine" is an item which can be used to teach a particular move, to a whole heap of pokémon, and "Dream Eater" can be taught to any valid pokémon, and, I counted, there are 185 pokémon which can learn this move - meaning Drowzee isn't really a nightmare monster. So, unless I want to put a generation's worth of pokémon on this list, which I don't, then pokémon can't make the main list, just an honourable mention...

ii. BAKU (Japanese mythology)
Okay, well, Drowzee was a bust... but, hey, pokémon are often inspired by Japanese mythology right? So, why not look up what inspired him? And yes, sure enough, Drowzee is inspired by the Baku - a baku is a a tapir-like monster that sneaks up on sleeping people, and eats their dreams. Yes, now we're talking! Isn't that a horrifying idea, a creature that eats your dreams, leaving you with nothing but nightmares?
Yes, that would be scary, but a little reading reveals that that isn't what a baku is. The Baku only eats "bad dreams", meaning that it takes away your nightmares, and gives you more peaceful sleep... okay, that is kind of adorable, and I like that mythology isn't solely creatures that horrify and disturb, it's nice to know there's some cute one's in there. But, I'm not looking for dream pets, I want nightmare monsters, so this was a failure... but since it's technically a monster and technically it does have to do with nightmares (and I thought it was cute), I put it here as an honourable mention.

iii. MARE (Germanic mythology)
Yeah, I remember reading up something about a Nightmare literally being a demonic mare of the night - a fiery horse that causes bad dreams. I mean, they're called Nightmares after all, isn't that a reference to a demonic horse?
So, I looked it up, and.... huh, no. "Nightmare" comes from the greek "moros" meaning doom, related to the root-word "mer" or "maras" meaning harm (This means that nightmare kind of means "night-doom" or "night-harm", which is cool, but doesn't help me here).
But, it turns out the nightmare horse-demon is a modern concept, based on a pun, and it occasionally appears in cartoons like that. Oh, but there is a creature called a "mare" from Scandiwegian folklore! But, it turns out that it's basically a nuisance goblin, which ties your hair in knots, and sits on your chest, causing nighrtmares... so, it's just another nightmare rider, like I mentioned in my earlier post about dream mythology, but this one doesn't usually kill you, so much as it tends to prank you. So, I was getting closer to actual monsters, but this one wasn't scary enough to make the list...

iv. FREDDY KRUEGER (A Nightmare on Elm Street)
It may seem weird that Freddy Krueger doesn't make the list proper, but that's for a simple reason - the Nightmare on Elm St films are actually what inspired this list. I wanted to talk about this frightening idea of monsters that can kill you from your dreams, and Krueger was a perfect example. But, after watching the first film in the franchise - whilst I did enjoy it - I realized that I couldn't say much about it. the film is decades old, and there are already editorials, think-pieces and even whole documentaries about the franchise - so I couldn't think of anything else to add.
So, rather than write a whole post about the franchise, and retread well-worn ground, I decided instead to highlight some other nightmarish monsters that are less well-known (or whose nightmarish aspects are poorly remembered, or oft-forgotten), because there's actually quite a few monsters that attack you in your dreams, possess your sleeping mind and try to kill you in your sleep. So, Freddy Krueger doesn't make this list on a technicality, but because he is an iconic killer, and a nightmare monster, he at the very least had to get an honourable mention.

This is just a glimpse of the kinds of things I had to put up with whilst researching nightmare monsters, and the kinds of things that, whilst interesting, didn't fit my criteria. But ,enough abpout the ones who didn't make the shortlist - after a great deal of research on actual monsters that actually cause nightmares (which are actually pretty creepy), I've found ten monsters which I've ranked in order from least scary/harmful to most. So, let's have a look at the main event:

THE A.W.N.'s TOP 10 NIGHTMARE MONSTERS (THAT AREN'T FREDDY KRUEGER)

10. SCP-080 "THE DARK FORM" (SCP Foundation)
This creature is essentially a living shadow, which can change its size and shape at will, but in most forms has two smoking "eyes". It thrives in shadows, but is visible if lit by a weak (approx 7 watt) lightbulb, as too much brightness illuminates it out of existence, and if there's too much darkness, especially areas or furniture with enclosed darkness, then the creature can use the shadows to hide and slip away, with some kind of shadow teleportation.
What makes this creature dangerous is that everyone who looks at this creature for approx. 30 minutes, will lose consciousness, and have severe nightmares and stressful dreams, which have been known to cause psychological damage and mental illness to those infected, up to and including suicidality. The creature has also been known to affect those who haven't observed it, either due to being within its vicinity, or being made aware of its presence. This effect becomes more powerful and far-reaching over time, the longer the creature goes without being observed - implying that the creature is feeding on the fear and mental energies of those it harms.

This creature is lower on this list as it is an "SCP", meaning that it is currently contained within the SCP Foundation. However, it can escape via too much or too little illumination, and it is noted that the dim light in which it thrives is approximately the same luminence as "a standard children’s night light", meaning that it has the ability to target children who are afraid of the dark, which what makes it creepy enough to make this list.

9. BLACK MERCY (DC Comics)
This isn't an animal, but rather a flowering, alien fungus. It has a limited ability to move, posessing thick, pre-hensile, thorned roots which it instinctively wraps around the nearest conscious victim, and causes a kind of paralysis in any person it touches, which causes them to stay stiff and perfectly still. It is said to feed on bio-aura - whilst not elaborated upon in the comic, I assume this to either be body heat, or some kind of pseudo-spiritual psychic emanation, and in later appearances they clarify that it feeds off the emotions in the pleasure centre of the brain.
What makes this fungus dangerous is two-fold. Firstly, whilst your body is paralyzed, it occupies your mind with a dream that fulfils their greatest, deepest desire, and presents it in a dream-reality that follows the dreamer's logic, so that it is convincing to them - this dream is so detailed and intertwined with the victim's own mind, that by removing the fungus by force, it will cause irreparable brain-damage or death; and so long as it can feed, and its victim is still alive, it will not let go. Secondly, in its premiere comicbook story, Black Mercy affects Superman... I hope you fully comprehend what I mean there. /Superman/, who has heightened senses, incalculable strength, devastating speed and (in most iterations) genius-level intellect; is held captive by a plant. It can even penetrate his Kryptonian super-suit with its thorns, so this is an incredibly powerful, little flowering fungus.

It only has two weaknesses, but they're pretty significant. Firstly, gloves... if you wear gloves made of the right material, it can't harm you; in fact, making a bag from that resistant material and putting it inside, renders it harmless. Secondly, if you reject the dream-scape that the Black Mercy creates for you, then it begins to starve and will stop feeding to seek out a new victim. Of course, this is a double-edged sword. It means, the greater your ambitions or desires, the more the Black Mercy has to feed off of.

8. BATIBAT (Ilocano, Phillipines Folklore)
This creature is the spirit of a tree, and when its tree is left alone, it will leave us alone, as it is a simple nature spirit. According to legend, if their tree is cut down, this harms the spirit and causes them to become furious. They remain within the felled timber, and wherever the resulting lumber is used - especially when used to construct someone's home - the batibat remains trapped in the wood for the day. But at night, if anyone sleeps in the vicinity of the tree-spirits's remains, it will assume a ghostly form - usually depicted as an ancient, grotesque and morbidly obese-looking female tree-spirit. This creature is so large because it will sit or lay down upon the sleeping victim, in an attempt to asphyxiate them.
If that alone isn't enough, the creature will also induce nightmares in the victim. This not only prevents the victim from escaping, but it is designed to torture them so they suffer just as the batibat itself has suffered. At this point, I feel it's necessary to remind people that the way people are suffocated in movies - someone strangling them, until they die about a minute later - is entirely fiction. If someone's oxygen supply is cut off, resulting in anoxia, a person may lose conscious after approximately a minute, but it will take three minutes before brain damage, and can take approximately 5-15 minutes before they die. It takes even longer if oxygen supply isn't cut off (anoxia) but simply restricted (asphyxia). My point is, being asphyxiated to death by being sat on is a slow, cruel and painful death.

The Batibat does have weaknesses, in particular you can escape from the batibat by escaping the dream... but, the method of achieving this depends slightly by mythology. According to some legends you have to bite your thumb, and this can awaken you - somwhat akin to "pinching yourself" to see if you're dreaming. Another form of the legend says that you can wake yourself up by wiggling your toes. If that's the case, it make this creature less scary - it can be defeated by wiggling your toes -but keep in mind, I learnt about the batibat from Western sources, reporting on myths from the Phillipines, so this may be a misunderstanding. From what I can tell, the true goal is to force yourself awake, and I assure you, that's not easy to do...

7. ROBERT MARKHAM (Marvel Comics)
Robert Markham was a normal, human man, who was infected with a genetic virus. In an attempt to treat it, Dr Peter Alraune prescribed an untested drug which corrupted Markham's DNA further, causing vampiric features, perpetual insomnia, and the build-up of unstable, psychic energies. After discovering that he no longer required sleep, and had developed the ability to control this psychic energy, which he called "ebon energy" he sought revenge on Dr Alraune, and turned to supervillainy, naming himself "Morpheus". Without sleep, "ebon energy" grows within him, granting him powers of telekinesis and energy projectiles. These were his powers initially, but after being captured and chemically sedated, in an attempt to stop the build-up of this ebon energy, his brain mutated further...
Now, Markham has the ability to remotely project nightmares into unwilling victims and, after establishing a psychic link, he could then read their waking thoughts, and even puppeteer the victim to do as he pleased - he could even transmit ebon energy into these possessed people, giving them the ability to induce dreams in anyone /they/ touch.

Markham has some weaknesses, namely he is not immune to his own ebon energies, as when he was touched by someone using their ebon energy powers to induce sleep, he fell asleep himself and his own ebon energies naturally dissipated. Despite his many and disturbing powers, his humanity is his biggest flaw. Although he looks monstrous, and his powers strong, he's weak to most physical attacks. But more even than that, he is driven by revenge against Dr Alraune, and Moon Knight, a crazed, vigilante superhero that fought him. So, if you haven't wronged him, then you're probably safe from his wrath, which is why he's so early on this list.

6. VISHKLAR (The Sarah Jane Adventures)
The vishklar are an extra-dimensional alien species from the Seretti dimension. Although they have no physical form in their native dimension, they can appear like unnaturally pale humanoids with dark, sunken eyes and dark clothing. Within the Seretti dimension, vishklar can travel between several victims around the galaxy, and from the seretti dimension, they can easily possess any living creature's dreams. They feed off of fear, so they enjoy inducing nightmares in people to harvest their fears. Within their lifetime, a vishklar can possess thousands of minds across the galaxy, giving them a broad range of experience - especially in regards to fear, and means they can speak several languages. This broad range of nightmare experiences also tends to give them arrogant, cruel and predatory personalities.
The nightmares the vishklar manipulates and controls within their victims minds are often drawn from the victim's own fears, to better terrify them, and feed the vishklar. If a vishklar is well-enough satiated, they can manifest themselves within the dream. In fact, the more they feed, the more powerful they get and for this reason vishklar are attracted to very powerful minds. When they can absorb enough energy, they can even create a physical form, allowing them to travel outside of their own dimension, into the physical world. This form is powerful and dangerous, as it can teleport with ease, and can even attack people using the dream-energy it has absorbed in the form of destructive purple energy & they can even induce sleep in anyone in their vicinity, as well as teleport into their sleeping mind.

Vishklar have three main weaknesses. Firstly, the "nightmare energy" they absorb is a limited resource, and they can render themselves weak and powerless by expending too much at one time, until they feed once more. Secondly, they feed off fear specifically, which means that if their victim is not afraid, then they cannot control their nightmares, or feed off their fear; and when a person no longer fears a vishklar, they regain full control over their own mind. Lastly, greed is their greatest weakness. Vishklar are attracted to strong minds, to feed upon, but strong minds can fight back against them; and some vishklar have been known to attack several victims at once to absorb more energy, but by doing this, the victims can work together to defeat the vishklar as a united front, which puts the vishklar in grave danger.

5. KANTROFARRI (Doctor Who)
The Kantrofarri are an alien animal, casually referred to as "dream crabs". They resemble a large, purple-coloured, hairless paw or hand with stubby, clawed fingers. On their own, they are weak creatures, blind, deaf and mute, and without any prey nearby, they can remain dormant for centuries. However, they possess powerful telepathic abilities, able to freely and easily read the minds of anyone nearby. When they see themselves in their victim's eyes, they will then attach themselves to the victim's face, usually by dropping down from above.
Once they have captured their victim's head, they will induce a dream-scape, to pacify them. To conserve energy, and make the dream more realistic and dynamic, dream crabs will share the same dream-scapes telepathically with other feeding kantrofarri, meaning that concurrent victims share the same dream. The way the kantrofarri feed is by physically digging into the skull of their pacified victim, then slowly pre-digesting and liquifying their brain, to absorb the nutrients.
The dream-scape tends towards realism, to keep the victims entranced, but they can be distinguished from reality. Firstly, dream crabs tend to store an image of themselves within their dream, to make it easier for them to remember. Secondly, whilst dreams are generally realistic, they tend to follow dream-logic; being scary if the dreamer feels scared, or poorly representing certain items the dreamer cannot remember perfectly & lastly, as the dream-crab burrows into the dreamer's skull, they will feel a sulled sensation of this, in the form of a "brain-freeze" headache. However, dream crabs have several defences themselves, including attacking the dream-manifestations, and false-awakenings, to confuse victims.

There are three main weaknesses of the kantrofarri. Firstly, because of the amount of energy expelled during hunting and feeding, kantrofarri die if they are removed prior to digesting their victim's brain. Secondly, because the creatures are so weak, if their victim isn't isolated during the time of their feeding, then it can be physically removed. Thirdly, and finally, brains have some natural, mental defences from being invaded, for instance, when several humans were afraid and trapped by dream crabs, they collectively manifested a kind, trustworthy dream-figure, who not only helped them to realize that their reality was fake, but to help them fight back against the threat of the dream crabs.

4. CTHULHU (Cthulhu mythos)
I wasn't sure if I wanted to include Cthulhu on this list, but after doing my diligent research, I realized that it was definitely a nightmare monster. Cthulhu is a tentacular, dragon-winged, pseudo-humanoid giant - at least several hundred metres tall. Due to its immense size and magical potential, Cthulhu is an unstoppable god-monster - those who gaze upon his massive form have been known to lose their minds. So, thankfully, Cthulhu is in a death-like sleep in R'lyeh, a sunken ancient city at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.
What makes Cthulhu a nightmare monster is that as cthulhu dreams, it will occasionally stir in its slumber, causing earthquakes, tsunamis and other similar disasters. But these disturbations also infect the minds of artists, dreamers and the imaginative - whom are presumably psychically sensitive - with his dreams, and tantalize them with visions of R'lyeh, its language and knowledge of his power. For some, this is little more than a strange, inspiring dream, but for others, it drives their ambition towards a religious fervour, which has developed into a cult of cthulhu worshippers. These worshippers are occasionally granted strange powers and magics, and for those who are ordained cthulhu priests, they may even be given immortality and mad wisdom. Those who worship cthulhu believe that, when the stars are aligned, it is their duty to resurrect cthulhu from his sunken tomb, so he can rule this world once more.

Cthulhu has two main weaknesses. Firstly, he is relying on a cult of crazy humans, and that causes issues - namely, in his first story "The Call of Cthulhu", an attempt to resurrect him fails, presumably because the stars weren't aligned right. But secondly, he's immortal, but not invulnerable - in an act of desperation, the sea-captain rams Cthulhu's head with his ship, and cthulhu's head explodes like a rotten watermelon! He can't be killed because he has a healing factor, and the jellied chunks begin to reform, but the captain manages to sail his ship away in the meantime, so cthulhu can be rendered immobile simply by splattering his pulpy, gelatinous mass. I'm not saying that's necessarily the easiest thing to do, but it did knock Cthulhu out of the top-3 ranking.

3. BASTELLUS (Dungeons & Dragons)
This is a shapeshifting, humanoid shadow-monster with thin, skeletal fingers and a leering, eerie smile. The bastellus is entirely made of "dream essence" and it can phase through objects and other creatures (although it will get hurt if it gets stuck inside), and it naturally levitates, rather than walking. The bastellus also has its own magic which it knows instinctively: Incorporeal Touch, which means that if the creature touches you, it causes psychic damage, depending on your armour class; Darkness, a spell which creates a magic, impenetrable darkness for up to 10 minutes as long as the bastellus focuses on it; and, Sleep, a spell which simply puts one or more creatures asleep, depending on their current health, for up to a minute. It's easy enough to rouse someone from this sleep, but any sleepers near the bastellus are in danger. For, because of its nature as an incorporeal, undead creature, it is immune to all non-magical, physical attacks and it requires no air, food, water or sleep to survive - but it sustains itself by feeding on nightmares.
Simply by touching a sleeper with its elongated fingers, the sleeper experiences horrifying nightmares which sustains the bastellus. If the bastellus manages to maintain contact for at least one hour, not only will you wake up unrested, but you will become supernaturally fatigued. In game mechanics, the GM rolls 3d8 - three eight-sided dice, numbered one to eight - and your maximum hitpoints are reduced by that total amount. So, your maximum health will be permanently reduced by anything from 3 to 24 points, unless you can restore it with magic. Once a bastellus gets a taste for a victim, it will return to it night after night to feed, until they. For weaker victims, if this supernatural fatigue lowers their HP to zero, then they become a bastellus themselves 24 hours after death...

The bastellus does have some weaknesses, namely magic, as most spells, or magically-charged weaponry, can cause it harm. Also, sunlight weakens its natural magic, as it is a nocturnal creature of darkness, so it cannot operate as well in the light. I could argue that we're all vulnerable as nobody can use magic, but that's because magic isn't real, and neither is the bastellus - if it was real, then so too would magic be. But, even in D&D, for a human to learn even the simplest spells requires a great deal of study, practice and time.

2. DREAM BEAVERS (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)
Dream beavers are extra-dimensional aliens, that appear like monstrous, oddly-coloured beavers with sharp teeth and claws, with the ability to speak and stand on their hind legs. They live within the "Dream Dimension", a dimension that interconnects human (and sapient animal) subconsciousness into a manipulable, physical dimension. Whilst this dimension is galactic in scale, the Dream beavers are drawn towards areas where the veil between the Dream Dimension and realities which they can prey upon (such as our own). If anyone at all falls asleep in a place where the dream dimension veil is weakened, they can become host to the dream beavers. When this happens, your breathing and heart rate will gradually slow, and your body will get cold until you die - as the dream beavers literally drain away your life energy.
Most dream beavers like to torment their victims with nightmares, but this is presumably for the sake of entertainment, as it's not necessary and has no effect on their ability to drain life from their victims. But, they demonstrate the ability to manipulate the dreamscape at their will, make themselves look more monstrous and create dream manifestations which they can control. Dream beavers also have the ability to teleport, which they can do in dreams, as well as in the physical world, if they ever manage to escape the dream dimension. Once a person has been lured into a dream beaver nightmare, they cannot be roused, not even by force.

The dream beavers have a single weakness, and it is that their strength comes from their manipulation of the dream dimension realm. If a dream beaver escapes the dream dimension, their true forms are less than half a metre tall, and have no ability to manipulate the surrounding landscape, and as they can only feed on life force from within a victim's dream, they can no longer feed. In the one episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in which they appear, they escape via a "dream plug" which is a device designed by a mad scientist, so if you don't have a Dream Dimension portal, you're basically doomed. Yhat being said... the dream plug is also what drew them to our world in the first place.

1. BILL CIPHER (Gravity Falls)
Bill Cipher is a yellow, two-dimensional triangle, with arms, legs and a large eye, as well as a bow-tie and a little, but tall, stovepipe top hat - so he looks somewhat like an anthropomorphized "eye of providence" symbol. He's approximately 1-metre tall, and at first he may seem like an unassuming, weirdo, but Bill Cipher is an inter-dimensional traveller, completely insane, and possesses powerful magic, dimensional energies & demonic powers. These include the ability to see into the future, the ability to read minds, the ability to transform his own body into a variety of sizes and dimensionalities, and the ability to warp the reality around him. He is originally from the second-dimension, but the people within that world were mentally, culturally and literally shallow, so Bill Cipher destroyed the entire dimension with fire and escaped to the Nightmare Realm, which he now controls. He also has various other unusual abilities, like the ability to speak backwards; drive people temporarily insane; see through symbols representing himself & levitate.
Bill Cipher is a powerful dream demon, and so he has many demonic powers, including the ability to enter your dreams, and manipulate the dreamscape within. He can also be summoned by a specific "Bill-summoning ritual", which creates a pocket of Nightmare Dimension in our reality, where he not only has (limited) control, but can appear and interact with anyone in that pocket. But, no matter how he appears before you, once in your presence, Bill can offer one of his demonic deals, defining the terms of the deal in a verbal contract which is accepted by shaking his cursed hand. Whilst Bill is trapped within the Nightmare Dimension, he cannot enter our reality, and is bound by the mindscape. But, as what he wants most is to escape his unstable Nightmare Dimension, Bill often tries to manipulate the details of these demonic deals, to give himself greater access to the third dimension... our dimension. His ultimate goal is to open up a rift between dimensions so he can step through, but he will often accept any deal that gives him access to a human mind, as this makes it possible for him to possess a human body.

Bill's main weaknesses are that when he is within a mind, as the mind's owner has access to their imagination they can fight back with their thoughts. But, even if he is able to fully possess a human body, he loses all of his demonic powers, and only has the ability of that particular human, which limits his abilities significantly. If he enters this reality in his own body, his reality-warping abilities would render him nigh-omnipotent. The only power known to contain Bill Cipher is the strange "weirdness magnet" within Gravity Falls which draws unnatural phenomena into itself, but this power isn't well understood, and so it cannot be relied upon to keep our dimension safe. In fact, there even exists a simple equation can be used to render the phenomenon void...

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So, that's my list. If you can think of any more nightmare monsters which you think deserve to be on this list, feel free to mention them in a comment below. This took a lot of research to even find these creatures, and some I found didn't make the list because I couldn't find enough information on them, or I couldn't get easy access to a primary source.
I just wnated to open your eyes to some more of the monsters that stalk your dreams, so that next time you close them, you'll be more prepared to fight back.

I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, and until next time, don't let the bed bugs bite...