Nightmares and dreams, the gentler side of the two, remain an ongoing mystery to researchers everywhere. What nightmares or dreams are and how they come to be are left up to one's personal beliefs. Even though many researchers have hypothesized why a person dreams, there has never been any hard evidence to back up their ideas.

Many take on the views of Freud who stated that dreams were the opportunity for an individual to engage in fantasy and wish fulfillment. While others tend to think of dreaming as nothing more than the activity of neurons running through the body, or the brain consolidating events of the day, or simply a part of the brain still active that causes the brain to manufacture a reasonable story. For example, if one dreams of running, it means the part of the brain that controls leg movement is more active than other parts of the body. I tend to lean towards Freud's explanation of dreaming, but would add to his theory. As I describe a recurring nightmare I had, I hope to explain what it feels like to be caught in a nightmare and what I believe may have caused mine. Therefore, I will assert a rarely addressed or considered side of what dreams may be, which is the connection between the unknown spiritual world with the known world.

As the nightmare began, my eyes were open only to be blackened by the darkness of my bedroom. Not the bedroom I fell asleep in, but the one I knew as a child. But the warmth of my childhood bed was no longer a comfort. It was transformed into a rectangular cot imprisoned in the middle of my torturer's playground, who was in complete control over my mind. In my nightmare the only thing that had control was my torturer. I refer to it as he since its laughter was that of a man's. He had complete control over the situation and surroundings in my nightmare. His primary goal was to torture me for as long as time would allow. I was, now, dwelling in his world under his nonexistent mercy until my body would decide to awaken from its discontented nights sleep.

I realized instantly that I was in a nightmare, the frightful consequence to dreaming. This one intended to bedevil me through torture and teased the fact that I knew I was dreaming, but powerless to control it. Nothing is worse than being in one of these dreaded dreams and knowing that it is just that, a nightmare that one is unable to break out of or take control over. In my one and only recurring nightmare this was the case, I knew I was asleep and unable to burst out of my mind's cruelty. The how and why I knew I was in a dream is a mystery I hope to have the answer for one day. Perhaps it is a way the body remains alive and not perish from the thought that what the mind was experiencing was real, causing possibly a heart attack.

I was comatose, aware of the viable world around me but unable to connect and become one with it. Because I was fully aware that I was in a nightmare, I can now grasp what it must feel like to be in a state of a coma, to be a captive in one's body unable to respond to the world around. This feeling can be easily explained with the fact that atonia, the immobility of all muscular ability, is in effect while sleeping. Atonia is a normal occurrence for everyone during REM or the stage of sleep when dreams occur. But even though atonia protects the body from physical harm one may cause while in REM sleep, dreams can seriously effect us mentally. Most people can probably remember at least one nightmare they had in their life and the effects it had on their state of being. Even if in a small way, we seem to be somehow forever changed by it.

In my nightmare my voice was without sound. His voice was more than capable to assist in my torment. I felt the hate and wickedness of my torturer's laughter as his tongue poisoned the air. I hoped my silent screams would only be true in my dream as my sanity begged for redemption, to be awakened by anyone out in the real world. "Help!" "HELP!" I screamed from within. But nothing. If only someone in the conscious world would hear me. Within the dream, only the noise of my body being thrown around the room was evident to a stranger that was on the other side of my bedroom door.

Yes, there was someone at the door, turning the handle, trying to end my hell or at least share it with me. But his attempts would be futile since my bedroom door was sealed shut, not by a lock but by the power of my torturer's might. "Open up! Open the door!" I heard the nervous pleas of my dad on the other side. Or was it my oldest brother's voice I heard? Either way, the simplicity of the man's voice was powerless to save me. The only way for that person to help was if I could get to the door and open it. But I knew that I, too, was hopeless in that attempt. Freud's theory of wish fulfillment or fantasy seemed to have no merit for me in this nightmare.

My body had useless control since his pulling and tossing of my body came too fast. I was succumbed, becoming nothing more than a ragged doll being thrown by a little girl's bitter anger over something other than what might be the doll's fault. First, my body was thrown under my bed, then into the closet the same closet I took refuge in as a child when I was scared or angry. Luckily it was just a dream, so my body felt no pain from the abuse.

I tried to pop my eyes open to escape from this state of hate. I was desperate to break free. My only thoughts were to get out, to wake up and get back to the real world. My only chance seemed to be in the power of my own mind. I knew I was sleeping. I knew it was just a dream. I can will wake from this. I closed my eyes in my dream then tried to force, pry them back open. No good. I was still a prisoner. I tried it again and again. At the same time, I began to sense a hint of panic on my torturer's tongue. Were my attempts to break free working? I closed my eyes again and pried them back open. I could feel it was beginning to work. I closed my eyes again and forced them back open. POP!

I woke up in a cold puddle of sweat, but I was safe. I won. I broke free from my cell, the chamber in my mind that played a wicked trick on me. Or was it just in my mind? No worry in thinking about it now. I was free and safe. And too exhausted to let the thoughts of the nightmare cripple me from not falling back asleep. I found comfort in knowing how to break free. At least I hoped it would work again.

Nightmares are funny things in a sense that once we do wake up, there is this great sigh of relief and comfort in knowing that it had no elemental form. It was just thoughts in the mind running wild or neurons running amuck through one's body. For me, I believe my nightmare was something more. The time I started having this nightmare to when it ended was right around the time I became a born-again Christian. Could my nightmare have been the Devil, unhappy with my choice? That is my assumption, which would also explain the man's voice outside my bedroom door. Since it states in the Bible, God will knock but we must let Him in. He will never force His way into our lives. Maybe if I had called out for Him during the dream it would have ended differently. That I do not know. All I know is when I decided to accept the reality of the Devil along with God, that is when the nightmare ended. I no longer gave him the right to inhibit my dreams and I asked God for protection. Therefore, I am merely suggesting another explanation of dreams may be a place where the unknown world and known world meet, and sometimes collide.

Unfortunately, dreams are an unknown phenomenon that is left unexplained. How dreams seem so real and how one is unable to control dreams has been a mystery to dream researchers for centuries. But whether dreams are simply chemicals in the body or a link to the other side, nightmares are a reflection of who we are as individuals. No two people will have identical dreams. Every dream or nightmare is specifically designed for the person dreaming it. All we can do is try to understand the dream or nightmare and come up with reasons as to why one's mind would create such an illusion. It may be possible that then and only then will such recurring nightmares be controlled and even have their eternal end. Sweet dreams.

01/29/00