Anon, I'm afraid. I had a nightmare.
Each of us sometimes have nightmares. Bad dreams that frighten, compel toss on the bed, then soaking the pillow, waking up with pounding heart and a sense of her own bezaschitnosti, and then lie with open eyes, trembling with fear, unable either to sleep or get out of bed - it seems equally terrible . Then, my dear sleep usually still comes captivates, taking your mind is exhausted - and the last hours before the alarm clock you're still awake ... feeling in a dream pillow and a crumpled damp sheets, and understanding: this may yet come back. Nightmares are almost all: men and women, the elderly and children, the brave and the cowards. And sometimes, when a nightmare, you do realize that this is a dream. Some can even wake up to "escape" from the frightening events. Someone for that bites a hand or pinching himself for his side, someone - shouting something like "I'm sleeping, someone - just concentrates on the spillage, strained - and finds himself in a familiar-home bed.
I now also had a nightmare. Does not matter what it is: sometimes, in the dream afraid of things that in reality is unlikely you would be frightened, or even something, what you see and some do not have time. Something like this was mine: I dreamed that I run away to an unknown city at night from something horrible, from some high, two meters, an anthropomorphic figure, having to monkey with long arms, hairy tenacious fingers, broad shoulders, and a vertically elongated head with no face - on a smooth surface, only two stood out black pin-head eyes. Creature just walked in my direction, slowly and mechanically-uniformly, without making any sound and not showing the threat, but for some reason it makes me wild fear. I ran and ran, I was moving much faster than the pursuer, but every time I turned around I saw that figure, which for some reason I dubbed "The Executioner", located in thirty to fifty meters from me, and thus able to overcome a separating our distance for a couple of minutes. At some point I managed to start thinking logically: "Damn, but that these monsters do not exist, it is impossible to be a dream, and so I have to wake up." I tensed up: "I want to wake up!" - And it helped.
I was in my bed. The silence in the room, undisturbed, for standing near the table glowed reassuringly statuette of a cat containing phosphorus stone - everything was familiar.
I gasped with pleasure, and a few minutes to calm delight. Pulse decreased, breathing becomes more evenly. That's just ... Anon, you know the feeling that behind someone came up? Perhaps you had a childhood, when your feelings were young and sharpened. You're standing in peace, for example, waiting for someone, and suddenly you feel that the back as if you moved up to something heavy, so heavy that you are drawn to him - and you turn around and see his friend on your child's games standing with a disappointed face: "how did you know that I'm stalking, I was completely silent?". That's about the same feeling made me mow my eyes right into the room. He was in it, he looked at me with tiny eyes on a blank face, he pulled me your hands! I jumped up in horror, jumped off somewhere to the side, knocking the table monitor: "Damn it, how so, I woke up, I had to wake up, I * should wake up for real!". And I ... woke up.
Outside the window was a gray winter dawn, and the room was a heavy smell of sweat. The wet pad, sticky sheet ... What rubbish. I hurried to get out of bed, especially since wet clothes removed by hand as usual my morning sleepiness. Hot shower just to relax, and hot tea - to cheer up. It seems that day started well. That's just nothing to eat breakfast and then have to go or to the grocery store or a cafe. Version of the store seemed more attractive: pleasing me cafes have been away from home, minus twenty outside the window did not have to promenades, the same tiny shop, the range which, in addition to cheap beer, cheap vodka, cheap wine as ordinary-looking and snacks to all this goodness, contain any no cereal, sausage and milk, was in two steps.
Throwing a light jacket (maybe not freeze for a couple of minutes, then), I made a slight jog. I have long range memorized, and therefore did not consider the showcase, and immediately went to the counter and told the salesgirl, sifting somewhere near him: "Be kind, a loaf of sliced, milk 'elite', and sausages 'Moscow' off the shelf" . She did not answer, continuing to poke around somewhere. Despite the fact that the shop never differed client orientation, I decided to hasten the salesgirl: "Be so kind?" You heard me? ". That ceased to rummage. Straightened. With a faceless, dressed in a uniform coat, shape, looked at me all the same elongated head with no face, with tiny pinhead eyes ...
... I vaguely remember what I did at this time. It seems, yelled and ran off somewhere. From the shop down the street, not knowing where I'm going to run and hide. I remember that I slipped on icy paths, asphalt, fell, tore sprinkled on the granite pavement crushed hands and jacket, was raised - and tried to run on, as long as I have not grabbed by the collar of a strong hand seized - and shook like a kitten . I rushed in terror ... and - flew out of bed.
Rubbing tuck a fall brush, I looked around. Sleep? Jav? Well, yes, this is my room, it's my cell lies next to the pillow, it's my computer on the desk and my flower pot ... but damn, it's a wake up is the third in a row. The final is it? No? I wonder what would happen if I say ... vskroyu his veins? Or thrown out the window? I wake up again - or die? What happens if you die in your sleep? And what if life itself - it's just a dream? So, okay, what if ... for example, have a drink?
Hard liquor, I rejected immediately. Despite the fact that my tastes in general, have a pronounced bias in favor of something like brandy, whiskey, rum or gin, now I want something that you can quaff. Walk to the fridge where the bank had brought stale "Miller", which was, despite surging suddenly chills, devastated almost gulp. In my head a little buzzing, and it seemed that everyone around quite a reality. Crumpling and breaking the bank (a bad habit left over from adolescence), I sat on a stool, and pondered. As you know, fairly investigate the system from inside it, and being a part of it, you can not. You can not even figure out whether we have observed real world, but if real - that is true whether we see it (which showed great movie "The Matrix"). What can I do to figure out if I woke up, and I have to go to the store and at work, or is it still - a nightmare, and I soon somewhere natolknus on the "executioner"?
In the next half hour set I experiments. Either fortunately, or unfortunately, but no deep scratches with a knife on the thigh, arm or bite (honest, with all his strength, so that the tears in his eyes and teeth were cramped), no ice shower did not wake me again. Left to accept the reality of the world, and act as usual. Brushing your teeth. English breakfast. Short fees - and here I am early in the gray winter morning, a step towards the bus stop ... After a couple minutes of waiting alone, rode up the old "keyway. Strange, I thought, in Moscow, such has not left - narrow door, "exhaust into the cabin and twisted old pepelats right is clearly reminiscent of childhood. Without a habit of looking at the number of buses (all of them walked me to the right subway), I stepped on the bandwagon. The doors were closed. I leaned over to the window, holding notes: "One ticket, please." Money is no one picked up. And through the dull scratched plastic glanced at me a familiar face-without-faces. In the pin-eye, it seemed, guessed some irony: "Well, my friend, take a ride?".
I shied back. Hit the door - once, twice, three - they did not respond, though, and not an ancient keyway it was, and APCs with the armored hatch. Rushed into the cabin - panicking brain still trying to think logically, and is now looking for an escape hatch. Could not find the hatch, podskolchil to the window, with all his strength struck the glass with his elbow, trying to plant, break it. Repulsed elbow, struck again, with all the force of despair - still to no avail. It remained only to retreat in terror away from the cabin, away from the pin-eye, unseparated pyalyaschihsya at me from the window of the cab.
Suddenly came to life dynamics in the cabin. "Dear passengers! Bus number four hundred and ten ..." - What? here go only 711 and 275! Four routes do not go to Moscow, they are long distance! - "... Should be up to the last stop. For your safety, do not attempt to leave the bus. Nice, very long time you visit." Somehow, the lack of titles the last stop a few distracted me from the situation. I can not say that the horror is gone, but the hamstring, at least, have almost ceased to tremble. I tried to look around. The windows in the cabin were, apparently, opaque: spotting, which could see them in the dim light of dim bulbs, obviously not pulling on the street lights outside the window, and at dawn, too. And most importantly - she did not move, while rocking the bus and snarl of the engine is clearly saying that the bus was going somewhere. Pin-eyes still stared at me, but "The Executioner" did not move. I. .. wonder how he manages to keep the bus when looking at me? Oh hell, what a stupid idea climb to the head?
From the strange stupor I brought a loud squeak and rattle of the window. Starting somewhere behind, he quickly approached, until caught up with the bus, and not over a heavy blow to his side. Salon thoroughly shaken, and - lo! - From a jar exploded rear glass, which I do not hesitate and rushed, not even thinking about what we are still going. In flight, I could still see something big and rusty iron, accelerates the new ram and my mind was enveloped the darkness ...
Waking up after a few minutes, I was not even surprised. Tried to examine myself. Scratches on the thigh, left last sleep, no. But the pale traces of your own teeth are present on the hand. Pale, as if bitten myself five or six days ago ... or just a little bit his hand in his sleep. And I was savagely hungry. Hungry enough to not even brush your teeth, once walked the familiar path to the refrigerator. Came up, rubbing his eyes, pulled the handle, opened the door ... but as it turned out, in a huge cool closet was nothing tasty. It was not anything that would be like a refrigerator. It was only the swirling darkness, in which swam painfully familiar pin-eyes. As if paralyzed, I was standing, holding the door handle and looked at them. Looking into tiny Zenk, expressing now something like ... sadness.
Stand for a long time in the form of the statue I could not. Fridge, outside successfully remains itself, announced with a loud shrill squeak that he ended patience, and that's time to close and open the door, thus saving electricity and resources of the compressor. Bing made me jerk, and then - automatically - to slam the door. After standing for a while, I controlled himself and opened the door. Nothing. I mean - nothing unusual. Beer and milk, salad and sausage, fresh tomatoes - and tomato, brutally zapytannye to the state of ketchup. "Well, maybe for a change, have a drink with milk in the morning?" - I thought, and reached for the bottle. The cover was strangely tight, I could not roll it. Finally she gave in, I lifted the bottle to his mouth and ... something tapped me on the shoulder!
Yelled, I - right, woke up. At this time - on the floor. And in my hand I was clutching a bottle of milk. Empty.
The fear was gone. It was a dismal hopelessness. It's just a "Groundhog Day" of some sort. Whatever I did, I could not wake up. Wake up for real. At this time, I knew that I was sleeping - falling out of bed can be explained, but how to explain the bottles of milk? I do not remember that I suffered from sleepwalking. Yes, and lunatics who drink milk like a dream, and in fact - hardly a common species in these patients. Well, maybe, to check what would happen if the die in your sleep? So, now I will run off with all his might, and throw myself headlong into the window. Floor of the ninth, just enough to break anything vital. Ready ... run!
Triple glass was somehow even softer. It without delay and pain released me in the open air. I was falling, arms stretched out, falling into some kind of pitch-black, so unlike the gloomy dawn of Moscow, fell ... the two sparks in the darkness. Sparks, like a pinhead.
Cry. Bed. Rise. Refrigerator.
What if you try to write all this?
I am writing this text. I already finish his writing. I'm in a hurry, I have no time to correct the printing errors and stylistic editing. I'm in a hurry, because at any moment the screen may reflect the two sharp glance at any moment there might get a creature without a face, get up - and lend a hand, raking me and dragging. I'll run away, oh yeah, I'll run away with all his might ... but if it goes on and on, if I did not wake up, sooner or later "the executioner" I still catch up.
I sleep or not? Is there really that computer, this window is Notepad, this browser Ychanom? I can post it this text and see it on the site, I can not even read the comments you, Anonymous. But who can guarantee that this is not a game of my imagination? Also, and this terrible thing, suddenly it is indeed not a dream? Yes, the scratches on his hip still is not. But the teeth marks on his arm, though pale, are present. And, Anon, I also just discovered under the table the two halves of cans of beer. They had not even dried up, and emit a distinct odor of beer ...
I'm scared, Anonymous. I dream a nightmare. Or worse, some kind of nightmare I had a dream ...
It is russian creepy story. It is not mine
Also i translated it with google so it is not realy all spelled correctly
Each of us sometimes have nightmares. Bad dreams that frighten, compel toss on the bed, then soaking the pillow, waking up with pounding heart and a sense of her own bezaschitnosti, and then lie with open eyes, trembling with fear, unable either to sleep or get out of bed - it seems equally terrible . Then, my dear sleep usually still comes captivates, taking your mind is exhausted - and the last hours before the alarm clock you're still awake ... feeling in a dream pillow and a crumpled damp sheets, and understanding: this may yet come back. Nightmares are almost all: men and women, the elderly and children, the brave and the cowards. And sometimes, when a nightmare, you do realize that this is a dream. Some can even wake up to "escape" from the frightening events. Someone for that bites a hand or pinching himself for his side, someone - shouting something like "I'm sleeping, someone - just concentrates on the spillage, strained - and finds himself in a familiar-home bed.
I now also had a nightmare. Does not matter what it is: sometimes, in the dream afraid of things that in reality is unlikely you would be frightened, or even something, what you see and some do not have time. Something like this was mine: I dreamed that I run away to an unknown city at night from something horrible, from some high, two meters, an anthropomorphic figure, having to monkey with long arms, hairy tenacious fingers, broad shoulders, and a vertically elongated head with no face - on a smooth surface, only two stood out black pin-head eyes. Creature just walked in my direction, slowly and mechanically-uniformly, without making any sound and not showing the threat, but for some reason it makes me wild fear. I ran and ran, I was moving much faster than the pursuer, but every time I turned around I saw that figure, which for some reason I dubbed "The Executioner", located in thirty to fifty meters from me, and thus able to overcome a separating our distance for a couple of minutes. At some point I managed to start thinking logically: "Damn, but that these monsters do not exist, it is impossible to be a dream, and so I have to wake up." I tensed up: "I want to wake up!" - And it helped.
I was in my bed. The silence in the room, undisturbed, for standing near the table glowed reassuringly statuette of a cat containing phosphorus stone - everything was familiar.
I gasped with pleasure, and a few minutes to calm delight. Pulse decreased, breathing becomes more evenly. That's just ... Anon, you know the feeling that behind someone came up? Perhaps you had a childhood, when your feelings were young and sharpened. You're standing in peace, for example, waiting for someone, and suddenly you feel that the back as if you moved up to something heavy, so heavy that you are drawn to him - and you turn around and see his friend on your child's games standing with a disappointed face: "how did you know that I'm stalking, I was completely silent?". That's about the same feeling made me mow my eyes right into the room. He was in it, he looked at me with tiny eyes on a blank face, he pulled me your hands! I jumped up in horror, jumped off somewhere to the side, knocking the table monitor: "Damn it, how so, I woke up, I had to wake up, I * should wake up for real!". And I ... woke up.
Outside the window was a gray winter dawn, and the room was a heavy smell of sweat. The wet pad, sticky sheet ... What rubbish. I hurried to get out of bed, especially since wet clothes removed by hand as usual my morning sleepiness. Hot shower just to relax, and hot tea - to cheer up. It seems that day started well. That's just nothing to eat breakfast and then have to go or to the grocery store or a cafe. Version of the store seemed more attractive: pleasing me cafes have been away from home, minus twenty outside the window did not have to promenades, the same tiny shop, the range which, in addition to cheap beer, cheap vodka, cheap wine as ordinary-looking and snacks to all this goodness, contain any no cereal, sausage and milk, was in two steps.
Throwing a light jacket (maybe not freeze for a couple of minutes, then), I made a slight jog. I have long range memorized, and therefore did not consider the showcase, and immediately went to the counter and told the salesgirl, sifting somewhere near him: "Be kind, a loaf of sliced, milk 'elite', and sausages 'Moscow' off the shelf" . She did not answer, continuing to poke around somewhere. Despite the fact that the shop never differed client orientation, I decided to hasten the salesgirl: "Be so kind?" You heard me? ". That ceased to rummage. Straightened. With a faceless, dressed in a uniform coat, shape, looked at me all the same elongated head with no face, with tiny pinhead eyes ...
... I vaguely remember what I did at this time. It seems, yelled and ran off somewhere. From the shop down the street, not knowing where I'm going to run and hide. I remember that I slipped on icy paths, asphalt, fell, tore sprinkled on the granite pavement crushed hands and jacket, was raised - and tried to run on, as long as I have not grabbed by the collar of a strong hand seized - and shook like a kitten . I rushed in terror ... and - flew out of bed.
Rubbing tuck a fall brush, I looked around. Sleep? Jav? Well, yes, this is my room, it's my cell lies next to the pillow, it's my computer on the desk and my flower pot ... but damn, it's a wake up is the third in a row. The final is it? No? I wonder what would happen if I say ... vskroyu his veins? Or thrown out the window? I wake up again - or die? What happens if you die in your sleep? And what if life itself - it's just a dream? So, okay, what if ... for example, have a drink?
Hard liquor, I rejected immediately. Despite the fact that my tastes in general, have a pronounced bias in favor of something like brandy, whiskey, rum or gin, now I want something that you can quaff. Walk to the fridge where the bank had brought stale "Miller", which was, despite surging suddenly chills, devastated almost gulp. In my head a little buzzing, and it seemed that everyone around quite a reality. Crumpling and breaking the bank (a bad habit left over from adolescence), I sat on a stool, and pondered. As you know, fairly investigate the system from inside it, and being a part of it, you can not. You can not even figure out whether we have observed real world, but if real - that is true whether we see it (which showed great movie "The Matrix"). What can I do to figure out if I woke up, and I have to go to the store and at work, or is it still - a nightmare, and I soon somewhere natolknus on the "executioner"?
In the next half hour set I experiments. Either fortunately, or unfortunately, but no deep scratches with a knife on the thigh, arm or bite (honest, with all his strength, so that the tears in his eyes and teeth were cramped), no ice shower did not wake me again. Left to accept the reality of the world, and act as usual. Brushing your teeth. English breakfast. Short fees - and here I am early in the gray winter morning, a step towards the bus stop ... After a couple minutes of waiting alone, rode up the old "keyway. Strange, I thought, in Moscow, such has not left - narrow door, "exhaust into the cabin and twisted old pepelats right is clearly reminiscent of childhood. Without a habit of looking at the number of buses (all of them walked me to the right subway), I stepped on the bandwagon. The doors were closed. I leaned over to the window, holding notes: "One ticket, please." Money is no one picked up. And through the dull scratched plastic glanced at me a familiar face-without-faces. In the pin-eye, it seemed, guessed some irony: "Well, my friend, take a ride?".
I shied back. Hit the door - once, twice, three - they did not respond, though, and not an ancient keyway it was, and APCs with the armored hatch. Rushed into the cabin - panicking brain still trying to think logically, and is now looking for an escape hatch. Could not find the hatch, podskolchil to the window, with all his strength struck the glass with his elbow, trying to plant, break it. Repulsed elbow, struck again, with all the force of despair - still to no avail. It remained only to retreat in terror away from the cabin, away from the pin-eye, unseparated pyalyaschihsya at me from the window of the cab.
Suddenly came to life dynamics in the cabin. "Dear passengers! Bus number four hundred and ten ..." - What? here go only 711 and 275! Four routes do not go to Moscow, they are long distance! - "... Should be up to the last stop. For your safety, do not attempt to leave the bus. Nice, very long time you visit." Somehow, the lack of titles the last stop a few distracted me from the situation. I can not say that the horror is gone, but the hamstring, at least, have almost ceased to tremble. I tried to look around. The windows in the cabin were, apparently, opaque: spotting, which could see them in the dim light of dim bulbs, obviously not pulling on the street lights outside the window, and at dawn, too. And most importantly - she did not move, while rocking the bus and snarl of the engine is clearly saying that the bus was going somewhere. Pin-eyes still stared at me, but "The Executioner" did not move. I. .. wonder how he manages to keep the bus when looking at me? Oh hell, what a stupid idea climb to the head?
From the strange stupor I brought a loud squeak and rattle of the window. Starting somewhere behind, he quickly approached, until caught up with the bus, and not over a heavy blow to his side. Salon thoroughly shaken, and - lo! - From a jar exploded rear glass, which I do not hesitate and rushed, not even thinking about what we are still going. In flight, I could still see something big and rusty iron, accelerates the new ram and my mind was enveloped the darkness ...
Waking up after a few minutes, I was not even surprised. Tried to examine myself. Scratches on the thigh, left last sleep, no. But the pale traces of your own teeth are present on the hand. Pale, as if bitten myself five or six days ago ... or just a little bit his hand in his sleep. And I was savagely hungry. Hungry enough to not even brush your teeth, once walked the familiar path to the refrigerator. Came up, rubbing his eyes, pulled the handle, opened the door ... but as it turned out, in a huge cool closet was nothing tasty. It was not anything that would be like a refrigerator. It was only the swirling darkness, in which swam painfully familiar pin-eyes. As if paralyzed, I was standing, holding the door handle and looked at them. Looking into tiny Zenk, expressing now something like ... sadness.
Stand for a long time in the form of the statue I could not. Fridge, outside successfully remains itself, announced with a loud shrill squeak that he ended patience, and that's time to close and open the door, thus saving electricity and resources of the compressor. Bing made me jerk, and then - automatically - to slam the door. After standing for a while, I controlled himself and opened the door. Nothing. I mean - nothing unusual. Beer and milk, salad and sausage, fresh tomatoes - and tomato, brutally zapytannye to the state of ketchup. "Well, maybe for a change, have a drink with milk in the morning?" - I thought, and reached for the bottle. The cover was strangely tight, I could not roll it. Finally she gave in, I lifted the bottle to his mouth and ... something tapped me on the shoulder!
Yelled, I - right, woke up. At this time - on the floor. And in my hand I was clutching a bottle of milk. Empty.
The fear was gone. It was a dismal hopelessness. It's just a "Groundhog Day" of some sort. Whatever I did, I could not wake up. Wake up for real. At this time, I knew that I was sleeping - falling out of bed can be explained, but how to explain the bottles of milk? I do not remember that I suffered from sleepwalking. Yes, and lunatics who drink milk like a dream, and in fact - hardly a common species in these patients. Well, maybe, to check what would happen if the die in your sleep? So, now I will run off with all his might, and throw myself headlong into the window. Floor of the ninth, just enough to break anything vital. Ready ... run!
Triple glass was somehow even softer. It without delay and pain released me in the open air. I was falling, arms stretched out, falling into some kind of pitch-black, so unlike the gloomy dawn of Moscow, fell ... the two sparks in the darkness. Sparks, like a pinhead.
Cry. Bed. Rise. Refrigerator.
What if you try to write all this?
I am writing this text. I already finish his writing. I'm in a hurry, I have no time to correct the printing errors and stylistic editing. I'm in a hurry, because at any moment the screen may reflect the two sharp glance at any moment there might get a creature without a face, get up - and lend a hand, raking me and dragging. I'll run away, oh yeah, I'll run away with all his might ... but if it goes on and on, if I did not wake up, sooner or later "the executioner" I still catch up.
I sleep or not? Is there really that computer, this window is Notepad, this browser Ychanom? I can post it this text and see it on the site, I can not even read the comments you, Anonymous. But who can guarantee that this is not a game of my imagination? Also, and this terrible thing, suddenly it is indeed not a dream? Yes, the scratches on his hip still is not. But the teeth marks on his arm, though pale, are present. And, Anon, I also just discovered under the table the two halves of cans of beer. They had not even dried up, and emit a distinct odor of beer ...
I'm scared, Anonymous. I dream a nightmare. Or worse, some kind of nightmare I had a dream ...
It is russian creepy story. It is not mine
Also i translated it with google so it is not realy all spelled correctly
