I don’t understand why I should be dreaming about a monster rushing at me out of the darkness, but such was my dream last night. Though all was blackness, I sensed movement in the near distance straight ahead of me, but didn’t expect it to suddenly transform into the walloping thud of heavy footfalls charging at me. A broad, fanged maw emerged from the darkness a mere six inches from my face.
With a fraction of a second in which to react, there was no time to think. Looking back on it now, attempting to dodge probably wouldn’t have worked, so close was the danger by the time the threat registered in my brain. As it turned out, my instinct was to yell at the monster, as loud and intimidating a roar as I could muster.
The tactic worked, inasmuch as my cry woke me, thus saving me from being decapitated by the beast’s slavering fangs. In my moment of waking, I realized I’d been dreaming. I wasn’t in a cold sweat or any other cliched state, but rather calm for someone who’d just been ambushed by a creature of nightmare. Lying there awake, I didn’t stir, wondering if I’d done anything to disturb my wife. As she didn’t react in any way, I drifted back to sleep, confident I hadn’t wakened her.
This morning, my wife asked me if I knew what I’d done last night. She’d been awake while I was dreaming. I’d actually yelled out loud. She’d chosen not to say anything to me at the time. We’d both avoided stirring or speaking so as to better determine whether our companion was awake, wanting to not disturb them if they still slept.
The dream and the yell had faded from the forefront of my mind this morning until my wife mentioned it. Then the memories came rushing back, like a monster charging me from the darkness. The compulsion to chronicle what happened grabbed me, and so here we are. I hope you found this anecdote as amusing as I have.