That Night at Grandpa's (And Other Scary Stories)

Rock and Roll, "Jesus!"

I could not move. I awoke from a dream, so I thought, and I could not move.

I could move my eyes. I could see my college housemate in his bed with a light on. Is he still studying? I could not call him. I tried. My voice stayed inside.

Something crawled up my legs. I shifted my eyes to see, inch by inch, my feet then my legs began to disappear. A darkness interwove past my midsection and encroached upon my chest. I cannot let it reach my face.

Trapped, imprisoned by a growing darkness consuming my body, I remembered why I was on the couch downstairs that night. For the past three nights, I had demonic dreams. I had shared them in detail with my roommate, Scott. He said I had an overactive imagination. Maybe I did. I did not mean a thing. A nightmare is real when it is happening.

I decided to try to get some peaceful sleep downstairs. I would be closer to the door and my disagreeable roommate. My best friend, Phil, told me of a similar dream. I remembered what he did to rid himself of the creeping darkness.

I could not speak so anyone could hear me. However, one person I knew could hear my thoughts. "Jesus! Help me, Jesus! Help me, Jesus! I screamed those words inside my head as if Jesus was on the other side of the galaxy. Repeatedly, I shouted on the empty stage of my mind with growing urgency. I yelled for help as if it were my last, I squeezed my eyes, rocked and rolled and shook to be free from that darkness. With the word, Jesus, I finally broke free.

I rolled off the couch and hit the floor feeling like flesh over a pile of bones. I could move. I reassembled my body and rushed to the light. I could see. For real. No longer a captive in my dream, I saw my housemate was actually still asleep in the dark. Was his studying the Bible somehow symbolic? I walked through the kitchen turning on all the lights and marched toward the bathroom. I was drenched with sweat, heart still pounding. I tried to catch my breath. A thank you escaped my mouth.

Well, if I was going to keep having nightmares I might as well have them in my own bed. I chose to be comfort over escape and retired for the rest of the night up the stairs, lights completely turned off. My roommate never awoke. I will inform him of the new tale in the morning.

I discussed what happened suggesting, as Phil believed that the music he was listening to brought the nightmares. Phil had fallen asleep listening to the rock group, KISS, the night of his visitation. Scott had an entire peach crate filled with 76 LPs he had been listening to for days. He did not like what I was insinuating. He reviewed my "overactive imagination," how I should lay off his tunes, and then he stormed out.

I am not sure why the college offered students the opportunity to study demonology and angelology in a night course. Walking across campus to my dorm-house after class became more and more difficult. Who thinks of this stuff? Now I had to spend the weekend with those black music discs. Positive those LPs held the combination for my doom; I was now going to be spending the weekend alone. Scott was mad and informed me he was going home to Cincinnati for the night. I am as good as dead. A goner. A quick slice of pizza for the Prince of Darkness.

The devil will have to wait. I had the best sleep in a week. After sleeping in, I made my way downstairs. Scott was back and asked, "How'd ya sleep?"

"Great!"

"Look in my peach crate."

I looked through his albums. All of Satan's disks were gone! "I left them at home last night," he said and walked away.

Jesus came through for me again. I have never had those nightmares. However, everyone I have shared this story with has a visitation of his or her own. That is not my overactive imagination speaking. However, you will have nothing to fear if you remember my Rock and Roll, "Jesus!"