Last night’s dream was pretty darn interesting. I can’t remember the last time that a “nightmare” had made me feel scared. Not even the ultra-realistic dream of having my covers pulled off made me feel afraid.

I’m not complaining though. Last night’s dream was pretty damn good.

The dream began in an old, two story house. The set up was similar to a movie: Something terrible had happened in that house in the past, but we didn’t know the details of it. Of course, bad things began to happen around the house. The situation worsened until young girls were turning up murdered.

I don’t remember the specifics. Dreams will be like that. I do remember being in the house with two young girls. Some bad things had been happening and scaring them. While my memory is vague as to the details of why I was there, I think that I was trying to help the young girls in some way.

We were at the top of the stairs when the ghost appeared. She was maybe 7 years old, physically solid, and by this point in my dream I knew – we knew – that it was the ghost who had been murdering the children. Always girls. Always around the age of the ghost.

She paused when she saw me. I wasn’t her target, but I was standing between her and the two kids who were with me. Though I don’t remember the specific words that were exchanged, I remember begging the ghost to leave the children alone. Either the ghost showed me at that point what had happened to her, or I learned previously – I don’t remember – but I remember insisting to the ghost that it wasn’t “their fault”, and they “aren’t the one who done this to you.”

As it turns out, the little ghost girl had been murdered by her sister. It was no accident. I don’t think that I ever found out why – the ghost didn’t know either – but her sister had deliberately killed her. I remember seeing something like a flashback.. her sister smiling at her, then a flash of flame, then feelings of “Why?” and “Help me!” and sounds of her sister giggling, or maybe yelling at her to die..

Whatever the case, I pleaded with the ghost, asking her to see that these little girls who she had been killing – these revenge murders – had nothing to do with her own death. Killing them wasn’t going to make anything better.

I also knew instinctively that if I pushed too hard then she would kill me along with the two children who were with me. When the ghost stepped forward I didn’t try to do anything. I could feel the turmoil from her. She stepped up to the two girls who were with me, and they cried and tried to back away. The ghost suddenly stepped toward them as though she were going to attack them, then her face, her clothing, and I’m sure her hair all burst into flames inches away from the two children. She screamed furiously into the faces of the two girls. I recall seeing her skin burn from her face, the layers of her skin blistering, burning, and dropping away.

Then she vanished.

She had so much anger that she just wanted to release it. It was rage, but she also recognized that I was right and killing them would do no good. Frightening the two girls was her compromise.

My heart was beating incredibly fast. I was afraid. I like dreams with ghosts, and creatures, and monsters, and things, but this one had me frightened. I’m not entirely sure what was so different about it, to be honest…

I also think that the murderous sister’s ghost was around too, but I don’t recall any specific interactions with her. I remember a sense that their parents saw the murderous sister as a perfect, sweet little girl and spoiled her, but I don’t remember if she was treated better than the sister she had murdered. I do recall, though, that the murderous sister got away with killing her sister and all the while their parents thought that she was a sweet little girl.

The dream morphed after this. The setting shifted so that this old house was atop a large hill across the street from the house that I grew up in. In reality there was no hill across the street..

The people at my old house were a resistance group. Apparently they were “hunters”, at least of a sort. A group of people who went after monsters, like werewolves.

I was apparently a double-sided spy. I recall hearing their plans of going out that night to kill the werewolves, and I remember thinking “what if they find out?” and feeling like I had to get out of there. That I had to warn my friends.

Late that evening, before they headed out on their hunt but while no one was looking, I dashed across the street, dashed up the hill, and darted into the house. I was a werewolf, and they were coming to hunt me.

I shifted form, becoming the typical werewolf beast. I eyed the house below with their fire burning in a metal trash can where the porch should have been, and, if I remember correctly, I may have howled. There may have been a sense of others, nearby or not.

Then the dreams were over.

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