In my dream I was walking around my house avoiding my mother, and when I finally laid down I was facing my wall away from my door.
I heard my mother step into my room, and in my dream-logic I knew that if she saw I was awake I would be in trouble.
I closed my eyes and held still.
She was walking towards my bed and she was whispering to me.
I couldn't understand.
She was whispering, but for the love of God I just couldn't understand.
Damiendamiendamiendamiendamiendamien-
I understood, and in that understanding came the understanding of reality.
I wasn't asleep.
-damiendamiendamiendamiendamiendamiendamiendamien-
My mother wasn't in the room, and the voice wasn't right.
It was too husky, too light, too alone.
But I stayed with my face to my window, away from the voice, away from the weight that had just lowered itself on my bed.
Whatever that voice was, it was laying next to me like you lay next to a lover; and I could feel a clammy touch running along my back as what could only be described as a pair of frigid breasts pressed against me.
My mother was flatchested.
-damiendamiendamiendamiendamiendamiendamiendamiendamienDAMIEN.
The voice inscesently whispered into my right ear, each repition of my name becoming more violently passionate.
I felt a hand grope at my crotch, and I began to cry. This was just too much for an eighteen year-old nobody.
I couldn't m-damiendamiendamiendamien-ove, I felt like I had been nailed to the -lovemedamien-bedpost. I felt dirty, I felt alive, I felt like I was going to die.
It turned me to face it.
I cried harder.
I felt nails tear into my side, my crotch, my chest, my face.
I felt teeth sink into my shoulder and a tongue flick across my wet eyelids.
She had the largest eyes I had ever seen, no white or colour.
Just black that you could lose the light of your life in.
I didn't wake up, because I was already awake.
Author's Note
So I'd like to say that this is a dream I had, but it wasn't.
I was awake, but I don't really know what happened.
It was happening, and then I blinked and it wasn't.
I had the scratches, the marks, the tears.
S'allright though, just a dream.
Ghosts aren't real.