It's been many years since I was last awakened by my nightmares.
Two pieces of background before I get into the story:
1: I don't have a dog.
2: I usually like dogs far better than I like people
It begins with me sitting in a slightly furnished bedroom at my friends' house.
(No budrow, not your house)
I'm seemingly housesitting overnight, and in the house with me are three large dogs.
One of these I know belongs to me. The other two belong to my absent friends.
Mine, a gray German Shepherd, is the youngest, and it's been wounded. It's front paws are bandaged.
In the dream I'm nearly asleep when the two other dogs begin fighting with mine.
I sit up and grab a nearby 20 gauge shotgun and flick on the lights.
Now, at this point, the fight disperses, but the three dogs are milling together, mine looking away from me.
I level the shotgun at them, and think for half a moment.
The fight is over, but I'm still angry. I take aim, and fire, purposely shooting my own dog in the back of it's head, decapitating it.
With a huff I sit back down on the bed, flick off the bedside light and begin to return to sleep.
But I'm in my friend's house, not my own.
The dead dog is bleeding out all over their carpet.
So after a couple minutes I sit up again.
I don't bother turning on the light as I lift the body and drop it into a garbage bag.
(I live out in the country, I've done this sort of clean-up a time or three)
I'm leaning down to pick up the severed head when it weakly growls at me,
and I fall back against a wall.
There's just enough light coming through the shaded window for me to see it's baleful glare turn on me,
and it seems that the dismembered skull is slowly turning in it's semi-congealed blood, like a turret, to face me.
I reach over and turn on the overhead light. The bulb blows an instant after I flip the switch,
but I have enough time to see it's tongue lolling limply from it's lips
and a trickle of blood coming from it's nose,
before I'm plunged back into darkness.
A plaintive moan wells up in my throat
I think that moan is the noise that woke me up.
*sigh*
I fucking hate my mind, sometimes.
Perhaps now that I've written it all out, (and the sun is beginning to rise) I'll be able to sleep again.
Two pieces of background before I get into the story:
1: I don't have a dog.
2: I usually like dogs far better than I like people
It begins with me sitting in a slightly furnished bedroom at my friends' house.
(No budrow, not your house)
I'm seemingly housesitting overnight, and in the house with me are three large dogs.
One of these I know belongs to me. The other two belong to my absent friends.
Mine, a gray German Shepherd, is the youngest, and it's been wounded. It's front paws are bandaged.
In the dream I'm nearly asleep when the two other dogs begin fighting with mine.
I sit up and grab a nearby 20 gauge shotgun and flick on the lights.
Now, at this point, the fight disperses, but the three dogs are milling together, mine looking away from me.
I level the shotgun at them, and think for half a moment.
The fight is over, but I'm still angry. I take aim, and fire, purposely shooting my own dog in the back of it's head, decapitating it.
With a huff I sit back down on the bed, flick off the bedside light and begin to return to sleep.
But I'm in my friend's house, not my own.
The dead dog is bleeding out all over their carpet.
So after a couple minutes I sit up again.
I don't bother turning on the light as I lift the body and drop it into a garbage bag.
(I live out in the country, I've done this sort of clean-up a time or three)
I'm leaning down to pick up the severed head when it weakly growls at me,
and I fall back against a wall.
There's just enough light coming through the shaded window for me to see it's baleful glare turn on me,
and it seems that the dismembered skull is slowly turning in it's semi-congealed blood, like a turret, to face me.
I reach over and turn on the overhead light. The bulb blows an instant after I flip the switch,
but I have enough time to see it's tongue lolling limply from it's lips
and a trickle of blood coming from it's nose,
before I'm plunged back into darkness.
A plaintive moan wells up in my throat
I think that moan is the noise that woke me up.
*sigh*
I fucking hate my mind, sometimes.
Perhaps now that I've written it all out, (and the sun is beginning to rise) I'll be able to sleep again.
