A Twisted Dream: The Faceless Ones

Rarely do I recall my dreams. Only the most twisted linger long enough after I wake for me to record the strange details. I often question what events in my waking life must trigger my subconscious to create such intense, fascinating nightmares. What elements must be real. What creatures must lurk beneath a disguise of human flesh in broad daylight, what instinct senses them just enough to draw them into my mind as I sleep. But I digress. Here is a recent twisted dream.

Two people stand before me. A father and a son. The son wears a green baseball cap. And then, it dawns on me that these are not people. Not a species where fathers and sons exist at all. They are merely something that can shapeshift, make themselves appear human-like. Their faces, textured as if covered in burn scars, lack all features except tiny, curved smiles. They look like sweet smiles. But the longer I stare, another realization: they are not smiles at all. These things with no faces, whatever they are, are not smiling at me. They are expressionless. They stare me down with no eyes. They listen keenly for the sounds of my breathing. I am not breathing. Thus my final realization: if I breathe or make any other sound, I die. So I stand motionless and silently stare back.

The landscape of the dream changes.

I sit at the foot of my bed. he taller creature, the one that appeared to be the father before, can speak. When imitating human form, it can also replicate human speech and utilize its low, gravelly voice to explain what it is. ‘We can be whatever we please,’ it tells me. It changes forms before my eyes, from human to cat. From cat to dog, a small dog. The dog stands at the foot of my bed. My toes dangle inches from its snout. I maintain eye contact with it, even as it lets out a low growl. I’ve been looking at it for too long. It snarls and gnashes its teeth, and then it leaps for my foot, its eyes glowing red with what I can only equate to hunger.

I bolt upright in bed, gasping for help. I wake my boyfriend, who’d been peacefully sleeping next to me. He strokes my hair reassuringly for a few seconds, and then we both immediately drift back.

I return to sleep, and the landscape of the dream changes again.

The taller creature, once again in its humanesque form, has given chase. I rush into my childhood bedroom, lock the door, and conceal myself in the closet. But deep down, somehow, I know this won’t save me. I must escape this room. As quickly and quietly as I can manage, I scurry my way over piles of clothes and toys scattered about the floor. And then I open the window and jump out.

The point of view changes. I am now seeing over the room I am no longer in. The creature materializes behind the door and stands there in the center of the room like a mannequin, still and silent. Listening. Waiting. (I was right to leave; I’d have never heard it coming.) For a long moment, the room is completely still. The stillness is only broken by a mouse darting from the closet. In an instant, the creature’s small little smile peels back half the length of its face and reveals three rows of razor-sharp teeth. Thin white slits open at the top of its head (I assumed later these must’ve been its eyes). It charges the closet and shreds the mouse to pieces and then, blood drenching its giant mouth, whips its head around the room, searching voraciously for me. Then it notices the open window, and in its scratchy, gasping voice, it says, ‘Clever girl.’ It exits the room. I’ve gotten far enough that I’m no longer worth hunting for, apparently.

The landscape of the dream changes again.

I’ve escaped in a pickup truck. I’m speeding along the highway, my heart racing as adrenaline courses through my body. The smaller creature, still wearing the green baseball cap, materializes in the passenger seat next to me. Above its smile-that-isn’t-a-smile, it has glued two googly eyes onto its papier-mâché-looking face. It sits silently, waiting for anything to change. For me to breathe, or speak, or slow the car. To give any indication that I am here and ready to eat.

Then, I wake up.