I’ve had the bloody sky nightmare many times. I blame watching Watership Down nine million times as a kid.

That’s actually kind of romantic. wish I had someone like that…

“Opening the curtains to see the sun setting in the wrong place, or the sky is red like blood.”

Again, my gosh. That is kind of beautiful.

Do you write poetry Naamah?

Waking up somewhere completely unfamiliar, not where I went to bed; the people there don’t seem to know what I’m talking about.

Going into the bathroom and turning on the light, and seeing something wrong with the person in the mirror. Either it’s not me, or my eyes are gone, or I’m grinning and insane, or I’m not there, or I’m bloody, or there’s a corpse dog on the other side.

Walking out into my living room at night to get water and being confronted by a dead white dog with red eyes and ragged lips. It leaps at me.

Whipping the shower curtain back to find someone or something there.

Opening the curtains to see the sun setting in the wrong place, or the sky is red like blood.

Lying in the dark and suddenly imagining being dead — my own utter nonexistence. Scares the shit out of me every time.

The idea of my husband dying — car accident, bite from one of our snakes, falling airplane waste — and leaving me alone and helpless.

Me dying and leaving HIM alone and helpless, and knowing right as I die that he’s going to kill himself too.

Answering machine messages that say creepy things. Also, radio static that turns into voices saying creepy things. “It is becoming very cold.” “We don’t understand why the water is still rising.” “This is a broadcast from the year 199-”

I hate my imagination sometimes.

Accidentally backing over a child.

Swallowing bits of crushed ice to find that they are actually glass shards.

The cute affectionate cat is actually an oversized insect with many moving legs and mouthparts.

Matrix-style meltaway of “reality” to find you are actually floating alone in total darkness with miles of ocean beneath you.

And those are only the ones that spring to mind.

and I have a fear of doing the “in the name of the father, son, spirit” prayer at churches with the holy water in fear it may burn my forehead…

“As I pass the row of stuffed toys in my son’s room, they turn their heads to watch me.”

I just have a mental image of a red teddy bear with black eyes and PVC horns and wings turning its head as someone passes. :P

My latest is when my fella’s laying next to me in bed facing the other way, but I know his eyes are open, he’s grinning and, well, let’s just say he’s not really himself anymore…