The first dream I can remember having happened around when I was three years old. My brother, Ben, was one year old, and he was about to go to the doctor the next day.
The dream started out with Ben on the high table covered with paper. All the walls were white, and I sat in a chair as the doctor checked him out with his stethoscope. Soon, Ben was covered from my view by the doctor, and when he came back into view, there was a giant pencil in his place. Then the doctor said something, and brought out a saw, which he used to cut the pencil in half. I was devastated, and woke up crying.
Basically all of the dreams I remember from this time were scary.
I remember that if I slept on one ear for too long, I would hear a loud whoosh-thumping noise, which was actually my pulse, but it was scary nonetheless. One time, it crept into my dreams. All I remember is a clown sitting on a crescent moon, as my blood whooshed loudly.
A recurring dream at that age involved a Frankenstein's monster type thing walking into my room and attempting to pry my eyelids open. This happened a lot.
YOU ARE READING
A Dream Journal
Short StoryWhen you have a brain, it means you can think, imagine, and create. At night, a sleeping brain is a free brain. Here are the dreams of one of those individuals with a brain, named Emma.
