Dream Warriors:

An Incongruous Truth

A Non-Fiction Account of Nightmares and Ghosts, 2005-2008

By david wayne black

Contributing Editors: Dan Black, Karen Kiser, & Mark Hutchins

3rd Draft – January, 2008

Foreword

What has turned out to be a collaborative effort involving friends, family, and strangers scattered across the Internet was originally intended to be a…dream journal. That’s it. I sat down one day in the fall of 2005 and wrote about some strangeness that had been plaguing my sleep. I have had vivid nocturnal visions as long as I can remember, and they were very often bizarre. Yet these were different.

I had no idea what I was going to do with this…or what was really going on in my head. It was not long, however, before new patterns and strange coincidences started to appear - mainly because I had begun to track each episode. The purpose was - and is - simple: try to make sense of everything.

More than two years later, I have only vague theories. I can tell you that there seems to be more involved than sleep deprivation and worries gone awry. I can tell you that my son and my best friend seem to be more “in touch’ with things unseen than the rest of us. I can tell you that it is not just me…and not simply my “bloodline,” either.

But I still cannot tell you HOW, WHAT, or WHY…with any real certainty, that is.

Recently, I became acutely aware of the perfect nature of the title “Dream Warriors.”

It is a reference to a seemingly silly “slasher” movie from the late 1980’s, “A Nightmare on Elm Street III: Dream Warriors.” In this formulaic “teen” horror flick, several “young adults” find themselves sharing the same dream in which boogeyman, Freddy, is intent on killing them - one by one. Their only hope, aided by a survivor from the first film, is to band together and fight him en masse. Any fan of the “Nightmare” series can tell you that the ubiquitous Mr. Krueger can only “get you” while you’re sleeping.

So “Dream Warriors” was my choice for two main reasons:

The first vision that really signified something was wrong featured a familiar element from all the “Freddy” outings - a little girl’s taunting, sing-song voice reciting a fractured nursery rhyme. I heard a very similar lilting tone inform me that “silent hands restrain the dreams you are not having.” Never before had I such a crystal-clear memory of a nighttime episode. The words were on my lips all day, and the nightmare was acutely fresh - even a month later. Right now, I can “see” the whole of the dream…yet the “girl” never made an appearance.

Talking about this much later with my good friend Mark, he found the tale uncharacteristically riveting. He felt there was more going on as well, but it was the thing he said next that struck me as extremely extraordinary. “I got your back, Dave. I will fight for you.” Not, “You can call me anytime,” or “Let me know if you need to get together,” or even “That’s nice, but I really have to go to the store.” I will fight for you. And he has. Mark’s made more than a few visits to “cleanse” or home when it became apparent that spectral forces were also involved.

Naturally, I thought of this “empty-calorie” throwback movie, not realizing just how all-encompassing it really was…until recently.

In December 2005, I took a gamble and posted on my former Microsoft Network “blog” what I thought might make a good short story. A few individuals took the time to review page after page as the dreams continued, additionally fortified by generous helpings of ghostly activity. Mark had been “plugged in” all along, though we were slow to realize it. And a long visit with my brother, Dan, gave an independent-but-identical picture of similarly restless sleep across town.

The genetic factor, already shaky from Mark’s association, snapped completely as my girlfriend, Karen had dreams that tied in to our “group hysteria.” Sierra, my daughter, has shown some sensitivity over time - perhaps “infected” by that which dragged Karen into the mess. And then the e-mails and Internet comments started…bolstered by professional parapsychologists’ opinions, no less.

Now we sit on a saga that seems to have no end. Two alternate paths COULD be added with documentation from the other “principal” Warriors, Dan and Mark. (Alas, the devil Procrastination has taken them both, I fear.) Nevertheless, our destination remains uncertain, and few answers seem to be forthcoming. Yet what a ride!

Thanks for joining us. Feel free to hold hands, and make sure that nightlight has a fresh bulb. Welcome to my nightmare!

Part I: Interconnectedness “I Don’t Think We’re in Kansas Anymore…”

“Six weeks after his death, my father appeared to me in a dream. Suddenly he stood before me and said that he was coming back from his holiday. He had made a good recovery and was now coming home. I thought he would be annoyed with me for having moved into his room. But not a bit of it! Nevertheless, I felt ashamed because I had imagined he was dead. Two days later the dream was repeated. My father had recovered and was coming home, and again I reproached myself because I had thought he was dead. Later I kept asking myself: ‘What does it mean that my father returns in dreams, and that he seems so real?’ It was an unforgettable experience, and it forced me for the first time to think about life after death.” Carl G. Jung, “Memories, Dreams, Reflections” 1963.

My dreams are haunting me more and more. What happened to the rest and rejuvenation I used to enjoy? Or was it a fleeting illusion of sanctuary?

“Silent hands restrain the dreams you are not having.”

I am pretty sure those are the exact words. I am uncertain only of “restrain.” These are dreams after all, and even though they are very different from what I would classify as “normal,” they are dreams nonetheless. Like all others, including thoughts and memories, they diminish with time.

Except these do not demonstrate that “instant fade” quality that most of my sleeping visions tend to have. That is a partial motive for me writing them down. The other reason is that I don’t really know what to do with all this. These are absurdly striking images and extremely unusual all around. I did not begin to piece things together until the nightmare I am about to document.

First off, a warning: this is all true. The people described within are actual persons. This is a dream journal, and the visions are how I have them. I will connect them to real events when possible. Names and images that come up are “as is” from my recollection.

In other words, I am not embellishing this in the slightest. When I have an opinion on a potential connection, it is just that: an opinion. The street known as Ellis Circle truly exists. Most of the “players” are living people still in touch or close proximity. (A few noted names have been changed, either by sensitive circumstance or individual request. Each alteration is duly noted.)

Before I get to said opening nightmare, I need to bring up a related item that has bearing on me trying to connect all this weird stuff. I am not sure if this interview happened before or after the “first” oddball dream; I don’t think it matters much. The two events transpired close together, and their combined occurrences may be a catalyst for some of the successive visions.

It was a Sunday night, and local radio personality John Carney was interviewing a female head of a parapsychology department at a Missouri college. I do not recall her name. I was driving to work; at the time, my Kia Sportage would only pick up AM stations. I listened to quite a lot of St. Louis’s KMOX 1120 - except when Rush Limbaugh was on.

The professor was describing “dream visitations” to a caller. She explained that in certain REM states of sleep, a person was receptive to visits from deceased relatives or loved ones. She said such dreams were often markedly different than usual fare. Also, according to her, it was uncommon for the decedent to actually speak in the visit; communication was mostly limited to facial expressions and gestures.

This account affected me drastically. When I arrived at work, I rushed in to change the radio station on the hotel’s receiver, but John’s interview apparently was limited to the 10 o’clock hour. (I worked 3rd shift then, 11PM-7AM.) Still I had plenty of time to chew on what the professor said.

I have made it no secret that I believe my mother visits me in dreams. What the college pundit shared cleaved completely with the visions I have of Mom. They are very REALISTIC, like they are actually happening. They do not fade fast. I feel an overwhelming sense of loss - or other strong emotion - upon awakening. The only thing that I could not confirm absolutely was that she didn’t talk in my dreams. I thought she had…but in retrospect, I am not certain now.

Another issue is that the settings were often distinct for her visits - and I have concluded that these “sets” are comparable to when I dream about my brother…at least recently. Basically, visions concerning these two have a certain flavour, a common quality that puts them in a category apart from all the others. For instance:

The lighting is late autumn afternoon sunshine, complete with dust motes floating about. Interior rooms are similar or identical to the real-world Ellis Circle house that my family once occupied. If there is any supplemental lighting, it is usually dim - like a lamp. The last “visit” I had was not far off from the rest of this – maybe two or three months ago. (It is July 2005 as I start this log.)

I perceived the dream location to be Benton, Tennessee - or somewhere thereabouts – due to the presence of both Adam, my longtime friend, and Stephanie, a ubiquitous ex-girlfriend. Still, it was confusing. It may have also been the opposite side of Ellis Circle – which was weird in and of itself. That would have placed this particular “dream-shack” at the southwest corner, and I cannot recall exactly what was at the southwest corner…in reality, that is. I am thinking a modest house with a few junked cars. I will have to check with Dan. He may assist me in making a map of Ellis Circle a little later in this account. (Ellis Circle is an isolated residential street located in the northern part of Cleveland, Tennessee – a scant thirty miles northeast of Chattanooga. Benton is a smaller community about fifteen miles outside of Cleveland, on the cusp of the Smoky Mountains.)

I perceived Benton also because the rural location appeared as a run-down shanty with a dirt yard and driveway off of a gravel road. Yet, the interior was curiously similar to a bedroom in the Ellis house. I cannot tell you whether Mom talked – only that she visited. She stayed in bed, and she wore a red flannel shirt. The fact that I cannot recall what she said is questionable – yet it does support the parapsychologist’s model. I am not sure she has spoken at all; in this dream or any other.

This is why I am writing: I am rarely able to recall for long much of anything about my “typical” dreams. Maybe just a feeling or a vague sense of what happened. I did attempt documenting visions previously for a very brief time; I will likely incorporate that failed experiment later.

So the radio interview and a recent “Mom” dream had my attention either right before or right after these next two nightmares. Both left me feeling VERY disturbed and unsettled…yet it wasn’t until I started talking about them to Mark and Karen that I began to see certain patterns and abnormalities.

And now, back to our opening nightmare…already in progress:

The Scooby/Elm Street Dream

I call it as such because that is what it feels like, or rather sounds like – in part. A typical “Scooby Doo” episode. Conversely, the “Nightmare on Elm Street” connection is solely due to the voice at the end.

More shadowy, however, is the set-up or the beginning…in other words, how this part of the dream came to be. I do not know if it is a “solo” vision or the end of another. It feels like an “end,” but…again, I cannot remember.

It was VERY dark: away from any ambient urban light, and no stars or moon shone. None. Just bare, hard ground leading down to the bank of an equally dark pond or lake. One or two weak outdoor pole-type utility lights stood at the edge of the packed dirt clearing. A power line drooped off into the murk. The impression was that a small fair or carnival took place here recently, maybe even that same day. For now, the clearing is empty. Out a short distance into the black water, just inside the illuminated area, is a broken-apart, partially sunk river showboat. Paddlewheel-style, but not huge. That’s it…but it feels silly and “Scooby Doo”-cartoonish: like Old Man Smithers is going to start his ghoulish antics to keep “Mystery Inc.” from discovering the abandoned gold mine he is trying to conceal.

But I am truly scared, and I don’t know why. I feel bitterly cold in addition to being uncharacteristically frightened. There are others with me, but I am not sure who all of them may be. One is possibly Adam. Also, of a third person I am absolutely certain, though I have NO IDEA why he is in this dream - or any of my visions, for that matter: Sam Stemm, owner and general manager of Alton’s WBGZ AM 1570. He is my former college teacher and boss, but not someone I see often or talk to with any regularity. I listen to him once in a while when he’s on the air, but that’s it.

I do not know why he is here, but it’s definitely Mr. Stemm. He speaks about the sunken boat and/or why we are there, but I cannot remember his words. I do recall the next part, because the line comes from nowhere and everywhere. Maybe a presumed forest. (I cannot see for sure what borders the clearing – trees are just the impression.)

It was an ethereal, otherworldly, little-girl type voice:

“Silent hands restrain the dreams you are not having.”

(This is the “Elm Street” part. It feels like the cheesy 1980’s flicks. The little girl with the “hopscotch chant.” A pop-horror icon for anyone around my age. What transpires in the movie is not quite what happened in the dream…but it’s the closest analogy.)

That caused enough terror to wake me up. It is still as clear as I write it down, though the dream was at least two months ago. I can also tell you that I was physically very cold upon awakening, especially on my left side. This could be written off to the eternal fight over the covers, but it was not a normal kind of cold. I cannot really explain much more; it’s just not a regular chill. I had it again tonight, though I cannot recall these dreams at all. I woke feeling disturbed, but that’s it. A few nights ago, however, saw another vivid nightmare…and the same kind of cold.

The temperature issue is beginning to alarm me.

This particular vision specifically took place at the Ellis Circle house.

The Rotten Meat Dream

Like previous episodes featuring Mom, the light was dingy, muted. Dust motes were again unusually prominent. It was as if it was overcast outside. Inside there was rotten meat everywhere. Not only in the kitchen - which was a toxic, food-encrusted, dirty-dish nightmare - but also the living room, where there were putrid cuts hanging by strings and buckets of innards…or some indescribable meaty substance. It stank. Flies were swarming. Naturally, I had a great sense of dread. I also felt danger, but not necessarily for me. Stephanie was here. So were her kids. They were in great peril, and they knew it. They were trying to act as if nothing was wrong. All were quiet with furtive glances about. Dark circles accented eyes. I don’t know why they were in my old house. I didn’t know Stephanie when I lived here in real life.

No one seemed to notice the biological disaster going on around them. Nobody talked, yet I sensed that all were trying to tell me something.

There was another presence. This was possibly the origin of danger, but I am still not sure. I perceive him as a bad person, though the peril may have originated from somewhere else. (That will be discussed later).

He was a much older, weathered man – maybe in his late fifties or early sixties. I actually understood this person to be Steph’s new husband, though that is highly unlikely in reality. (I know precious little about the real-life counterpart, and I have chosen to keep it that way.) “Hubby” is dirty and shabbily dressed, redneck-flannel style. I feel menace coming from him, but during the short dream I witness nothing violent or suggestive. In fact, he does not notice me, period - although I feel Stephanie and the four kids reaching out in desperation. I can’t help but wonder if this is not a manifested wishful rationalization…that she chose a bad situation and consequently I should rescue her.

This conclusion clouded other possible points to this dream that became clear later. I remember stepping out onto the front porch into overcast dusk, apparently mid-autumn. There were brown leaves and needles on the ground, yet the trees were far from bare. All about was a general gloom, despite the fact that most of the foliage producing any shadow whatsoever were located across the street. The dream ended and I awoke feeling dirty, nauseated, and worried. Not for me, but for Stephanie.

Later, I would write that off. “If she is in danger, oh well - she made her own choices.” I have to be careful with this subject, though it is getting easier. I really screwed up my life over this girl, and I have laboured diligently to keep things in the proper perspective. Unfortunately, she pops up here and there in this lengthy tale. Right now, things are healthy inside my head, despite her recent e-mail through Ironically, it was only days shy of a year since our last text communication to each other…when she told me she was getting married once more. I then asked her never to contact me again. “Never” in this case may have been about 359 days or so. Almost made it an anniversary of sorts. Oh well. (As a result of said e-mail, I reported her as a “harassing person” to Classmates. So far, it’s worked.)

Again, I am growing with this.

But I digress.

Alton, Illinois is a scant twenty-five miles from St. Louis, Missouri. We are considered part of their media market. Almost ALL of our radio and television originates from there. WBGZ is one of a tiny offering of local fare on our side of the Mississippi River.

In 2003, said trees are gone. The small, forested area was present when we lived there in the 1980’s. Nowadays, it is cleared through to the next neighbourhood, and adjacent to it is a sizeable apartment complex.