This dream is over a month old, but was so freaking spooky, had to post it this month. It’s perfect for Halloween.
Note: I am the type of person that has super vivid, multiple act dreams, but will only remember a piece of the whole.
I have no idea what has led me to this point in the story, but I am sitting in a school desk on the right side of a train car, surrounded by other students. We are all apart of some sort of choral group, and we are zooming towards our next tour stop. The director is at the head of the neat, files of desks and singers, doling out instructions and giving the group some tune ups every now and again. In front of me is a panel that is secretly a door and just in front of that is my fiery-headed best friend. And behind is an empty desk: I don’t remember who sat there before it was empty.
Curious, I ask my friend about this locked panel, and when she answers that we aren’t allowed to go in there, I break in. The room is odd once I enter. It isn’t exactly a restroom, but more of a closet-sized lounge. There is a strange feeling about it. I begin to feel drained. I wander around – it’s bigger than it looks. Then I hear voices coming down the car. I rush out and retake my seat, attempting to look as calm as possible.
The director and her ghoulish assistant force a larger, curly-haired girl into the seat behind me. She is acting wildly. As the pair walks away, I turn and try to quiet her. She doesn’t speak well: the sounds she makes are more of a constant wail. I tell her that she will get locked in the room and sucked dry of her energy. I was able to discern that that room was used as some sort of energy source for the train. It wasn’t powered by electricity, gasoline, or steam, but some sort of aural energy. Those of us students that had strong energies, like this poor girl couldn’t help but display, are put into the room and sucked dry to take us where we need to go.
She is removed to the paneled compartment, but instead of draining her energies, the room amplifies them, and I hear her wail slowly shifting into a growl. Then, the slamming and banging begins. She is destroying the room, the engine, breaking the train, stranding us in the middle of the desert. The car goes dark, and the screaming begins.
We evacuated the train and took cover in this abandoned carnival. The rest of the group thought that the danger had passed, that we had successfully contained the creature to the train, but I knew more, somehow. The daylight strained her, so she couldn’t leave the train in the light, but her wails and her smashing could be heard, growing louder and louder as the sun set.
And the carnival was creepy enough. There were these strange clown statues all across the grounds, scattered in places you wouldn’t think to find a ghost – in the house of horrors, the river of love, on the exit of the roller coaster. They didn’t move, but they weren’t still. They had life about them, and I caught them moving out of the corner of my eye a few times. No one believed me when I tried to warn them of the new danger, though. As I explore, trying to find the location most able to be fortified come nightfall, I find some strong, tough steel-toed boots and a fireman’s ax that I refuse to let go of.
I find the rest of the group, and they convince me to enjoy the novel surroundings – and lack of constant choral instruction. I can’t relax, however, no matter how much I take part. We climb into the back seat of a crashed car, for no reason but to sit. Four of us cram in, shutting the doors. I look out my window, and see a clown figure has awakened and is walking towards my door.
The window is smashed in, and I can sense that he is approaching me with malicious intent. I start screaming, panicking, yelling at the others to, “Get out of the fucking car!”
The idiot on the other side had put his seat belt on and now the rusted buckle was stuck. I start shaking the car, and at the last minute, the dunce climbs out, but it was too late for me. I flattened myself against the seat of the car, trying in last ditch effort to escape. All I saw as he squirt his trick flower at me was the sun setting behind him. I managed to get out of the car, but I knew the liquid I was sprayed was not just water. It was some sort of pheromone tracking, so they could find me once the sun went down.
Once I was out of the car, I realized my good boots were missing, and the rain was creating puddles that only made it harder to navigate to arid, cracked terrain. The interiors of all of the buildings are lined with linoleum, so escaping into them from the slowly awakening clowns, is dangerous, with wet, bare feet. The only way to get away from the wandering clowns and the menacing howling of the mutated girl on the train is to make it through the haunted house.
Past this, I remember nothing else. I refuse to let myself dream this portion, and wake myself up.