I had a nightmare last night.

It's apalling, how your mind can create something so terrible you're jarred out of the deepest sleep, panting and trembling.

The setup isn't as interesting, and it's vague anyway, so I'll skim over it. My sister and I were taking care of our Aunt's house in a strange neighborhood. In the daytime, a young man in glasses came to the door. I wish I remembered what he said, but something went wrong, and I ended up grabbing this small blackberry (the phone, not the fruit) thing of his and slamming him out of the house.

After that, I knew we were in grave danger.

Don't dream-days last only seconds? That dangerous feeling lasted for a while, in which Danielle and I tried to stipulate the best course of action. We knew he'd be coming back, in a rage, and we didn't know how, or where he'd break in.

Then, there was a sudden noise. . .

We turned to see a pair of legs in the fireplace. They dangled there, as if the rest of the body was still stuck in the chimney. We saw the remains of a pair of pants, ripped-up flesh. We saw torn socks saturated with blood.

This was where I woke up.

My most recent nightmare of that caliber occured a couple years back, where I was in a museum at night,and intrigued by this strange artifact in a glass case. It was an odd little face carved in a wedge of stone. When I touched the case, it flickered and for an instant, looked my way. That was when I woke up, still pictured the twisted snarl of its features.

I am ALL ABOUT writing a script for a scary movie. Oh hell yes. Anyone want to volunteer a nightmare?