3 TRUE Scary Stories Where Dreams Read into Reality

[Music] This happened over the course of 3 or 4 years when I was a kid. I can't remember exactly when I got the first one, but I started having this recurring half-lucid nightmare maybe once every couple of months. From what I can remember, here's how it would go.

I'd be lying down in bed, only the view wasn't from my first person perspective. Instead, I'd be looking down at myself from the ceiling, like I was viewing my own bedroom through a security camera feed. The outof body dissociation always freaked me out.

I tried to float or swim towards my body, but I was never able to move beyond swiveling my head to look around the room. I was half lucid, so I knew it was a dream, but that didn't make me any less scared. After calming myself down, I'd start noticing strange things about my bedroom.

For one, the digital clock on my nightstand would always be counting in reverse. That was typically the first strange detail I'd notice. And once I noticed that, I'd start seeing other weird stuff.

There were these drawings taped to random spots on the walls and dresser, like crayon drawings you'd expect from a kid my age. But I had no memory of ever making them. I wasn't the type of kid who ever drew much.

So, it wasn't like I had just forgotten about them. They always showed the same thing. A row of people holding hands, all smiling with one smaller figure who I can only imagine was me.

They were always standing in front of a house with a blue roof. But I can't remember much more about the drawings than that. The other detail about the dreams that still sticks out to me is an old toy train of mine that was always sitting in a different spot on my bedroom floor, which was significant because I had lost that particular toy years prior.

Anyway, after analyzing my room for a bit, I'd get this unexplainable urge to look out my bedroom window. I'd glance over and as if it were on quue, a man would appear just a few inches from the glass. He had short gray hair and what looked like a cut on his left temple.

That's honestly all I can remember about his face. He would watch me sleep for a few seconds, then start clawing at the window like he was trying to open it from the outside. That's usually when I woke up.

Sometimes I immediately ran to the window, and sometimes I was too terrified to even move. But I always ended up checking one way or another. I don't know what I thought I'd find.

maybe claw marks or a smudge from where his hand had been, but there was never anything there, or anyone for that matter. After the fourth time it happened, I finally told my parents. My mom told me that recurring dreams weren't that rare, especially at my age, and my dad chimed in to remind me that they were always just one room away if I ever felt scared.

I nodded and acted like that helped, but it didn't. Not really. My dad could tell I was still scared, so he took me by the hand and explored the exterior of the house with me.

There was no indication that anyone had been there. No footprints, no smudges on the window, nothing. Even so, that didn't calm my nerves as much as you might think.

Keep in mind, this was about 1 year in, so I was having this dream roughly once every 3 months. It wasn't happening every night, not even close. But having the exact same dream four times definitely means something, which I knew even at that age.

But after that fourth dream, though, they just stopped. For a while, at least. I went nearly 6 months without a single episode.

And at some point, I let myself believe it was over. It all just kind of faded into the backgrounds, the way childhood fears tend to when life gets more normal. But then it came back.

I have no idea what triggered it. But one random night, I had the dream again. Everything was exactly the same as I remembered.

The clock, the drawings, the train, everything. But there was something different about that dream that was scaring me twice as much as the earlier ones had. I couldn't figure out what it was.

Everything was following the exact same chain of events. But then, as I was looking around the room, I realized what it was. My bedroom window was open.

As soon as I saw that, I woke up. There was a period of maybe 5 minutes where I couldn't move. Complete and other sleep paralysis.

And it wasn't a passive sleep paralysis either. My brain was screaming at me to check the window the entire time, but I couldn't drag myself out of bed no matter how much I tried. On top of that, I felt significantly colder, as if cold air was blowing through my bedroom window, which I was convinced was wide open.

Those 5 minutes were unlike any kind of fear I have ever experienced. All I could think about was how that man was moments away from climbing through my window. Yet there was nothing I could do about it.

When I finally regained control of my limbs, I forced myself over to the window, confirming that it was locked. I couldn't fall back asleep that night. I was too scared.

I'm not sure how I was even able to function the following morning. Another couple of months went by, but I wasn't going to be fooled again. Every night before I went to bed, I thought long and hard about the dream in an attempt to brace myself for having it again.

I'm not sure if this logic tracks, but I was hoping that keeping the dream on my brain would help me not get too scared should I have it again. To my surprise, that technique actually worked. The next time I had that dream, I wasn't even half as scared.

I didn't even bother checking the window after waking up. By the time I had it again, I was barely scared at all. Still, something about it lingered.

Not in a scary way, but enough to make me want to bring it up to my parents again. Maybe it was the way I explained it, or maybe it was because I was slightly older, but for whatever reason, they actually paid closer attention this time. I tried to provide as much detail as possible, something I hadn't done before.

As I was getting to my description of the man, my parents demeanor shifted. Not too dramatically, but enough for me to notice. Specifically, it was right as I was telling them about the cut on his forehead.

Before I could even finish, my dad cut me off and asked if I was sure about the cut. I told him I was, and he looked over at my mom like there was some unspoken detail that I wasn't aware of. I asked my parents what was going on, and they assured me that everything was fine.

Not wanting to upset them, I didn't inquire further. But from that point on, I started wondering if there was more to the story. As it would turn out, a few days after that conversation, my parents sat me down and came clean.

It wasn't some dramatic reveal or anything. They just said there was something they wanted to tell me. My mom did most of the talking.

Apparently, when I was really little, like too young to even remember, there was a man named Brian who used to watch me sometimes, they always referred to him as Uncle Brian, but he wasn't actually family, just a close friend of my dad's from college. I guess he was around a lot when I was a baby and a toddler, especially during the times when both my parents were working full-time. But something happened.

My dad didn't give details, just said that there was a falling out between them. bad enough that they completely cut ties. He said he forbade Brian from ever coming near our family again, specifically from coming near me again.

That was the end of it. I asked what caused the fallout, but they wouldn't tell me. They just repeated that it had nothing to do with me and that I didn't need to worry.

The only other thing they told me, and this is what gave me a sick feeling, was that Brian had a noticeable scar on his forehead from a car accident he'd been in years before I was born. They didn't connect the dots out loud, but they didn't have to. I was old enough to make the connection myself.

Later that night, after my mom had gone to bed, my dad lingered in the living room with me a little longer. I could tell he wanted to say more, like he hadn't been totally satisfied with how the conversation went earlier. After a few moments of silence, he told me his theory.

He said he thought the dreams were my brain's way of processing something buried really deep. Some memory from when I was little before I could even form full sentences. He mentioned how close I apparently used to be with Brian.

How I'd cry when he left the house, how I always wanted him to be the one to read me to sleep. My dad said he couldn't think of any other way I'd know about the scar on Brian's forehead. I didn't know what to make of that.

I had no recollection of this Brian person whatsoever. Even now, I still can't recall a single memory with him in it. I had no choice but to move on with my life, though, recurring dream or not.

Another handful of months passed. I'm doing my best to describe the timeline as accurately as possible, but it's hard to remember exactly how much time passed in between each dream. That said, the frequency decreased after talking to my parents.

I had the dream only once or maybe twice within the next year. But things took a very dark turn sometime in year 4. One night after waking up from the dream, I glanced over at my window just out of habit.

And this time I actually saw something move. It was just a flicker, but I was 100% sure something had just moved from right outside my window. And just like that, all the fear I had spent years trying to prevent came rushing back.

It was actually worse. I jumped out of bed and screamed for my parents who took me very seriously. My dad sprinted outside in his bare feet while my mom held me tightly.

Eventually, my dad came back and started whispering stuff to my mom. They told me to stay put while they called the police. I listened to them and stayed in their room, although I don't remember ever hearing any sirens or other voices besides theirs that night.

My dad insisted everything was fine and that the police were going to take care of things. The next day, he confessed to me that he had seen what he thought were extremely faint footprints underneath my bedroom window. I asked him if he thought it was Brian, and he said that was impossible since they had moved and Brian didn't know where we lived.

My dad promised me that nothing bad was going to happen ever, and he would turn out to be right. I never had that dream again. My parents don't like talking about this incident, and I can see why.

I'm still yet to get a straight answer out of them, but I've since stopped trying. What I can't wrap my head around is the sickening thought that every time I had that dream, there really was someone outside my window watching me. Was it really plausible that someone had been periodically stalking me for 4 years?

It doesn't track, and I can't decide what's scarier. if it really was Brian watching me or just some complete stranger that my brain associated with him for whatever reason. And who knows how that somehow got translated into my dreams.

I've done research and I still don't even know how that would be possible. Maybe he was making a noise or something and my brain picked up on it. I really can't say.

What I can say is that I'm 95% sure my parents never called the police that night. That's something I will likely never get an explanation for. I'll most likely never get any answers regarding this experience since it happened so long ago.

But if I do, I'll send an [Music] update. I'm going to keep this as short as possible. Most nights I fall asleep to some form of sound.

It's the best way I know how to knock out quickly. Sometimes it's a chess video. Sometimes it's a podcast about space.

Sometimes it's just a recording of a thunderstorm. You get the idea. I'm a very active dreamer, so whatever I fall asleep to usually gets translated directly into my dreams in some form.

For example, if I fall asleep to a soccer compilation, then it's likely I'll have a dream about playing soccer. Part of the reason this is so clutch is because I had a ton of nightmares growing up, and this technique prevents them. This happened a couple of weeks ago during a sleepover at my friend Duncan's place.

It was a sleepover, so I had to fall asleep normally. That wasn't an issue for me. It just meant my dreams would be a lot less predictable.

There were three of us, me, Duncan, and Ian. Duncan's parents were away for the weekend, which is why we were having the sleepover in the first place. He has a lot of big, comfy couches in his living room, so that's where we all slept.

That night, I had one of the most vivid dreams I've had in a while. I was out at sea on this small sailboat. I don't even know where it came from.

I've never been on a sailboat in my life. The water was super choppy, and I remember the sky being this weird mix of dark purple and gray. The wind was howling, but not in a scary way.

It kind of felt like I was in a movie or something. Then the boat lurched. I couldn't see what we hit, but I definitely felt it.

Whatever it was, it knocked the whole cell sideways and cracked something underneath. Water started gushing in through the bottom, and I remember trying to plug the hole with my jacket, which obviously wasn't doing anything. I started panicking like full-on helpless panic.

And just as the boat started to sink, a dolphin jumped out of the water, locked eyes with me, and said in perfect English, "Wake up. " That instantly snapped me awake. I'm usually pretty groggy after waking up, but this was different.

Although I didn't know why yet. I looked around the room trying to figure out if anything was different or strange, but everything looked normal. My friends were sleeping next to me, and the living room was exactly how we left it.

You know that weird in between phase right after you wake up where you can't really process information accurately? That's what I was experiencing. A few seconds later though, my brain started functioning properly and I picked up on a sound that was definitely out of place.

There was this distinct rushing sound coming from somewhere upstairs. It wasn't muffled like you'd expect if a faucet was just dripping. It was consistent like a hose or something.

That must have been why I had that wonky dream about the ocean. I sat there for a second trying to figure out what I was hearing. Then, like an idiot, I got up to check it out myself.

I crept up the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. The noise got louder with each step. It was definitely running water, and it was coming from the upstairs bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The door was slightly cracked open, and even from a distance, I could see the sink. One of the knobs was turned all the way to the right. The water was just gushing out full blast.

There was no way that could have happened on its own. It didn't even make sense. I got close to the doorway and was about to step in, but something made me stop.

The bathroom up there is pretty big. It's got this long counter and a bathtub with a curtain, plus this awkward corner where the toilet is. Plenty of blind spots.

For all I knew, someone could have been crouching behind the tub or standing right behind the door. My stomach dropped. I don't know why, but I just couldn't go in.

I backed up and booked it down the stairs to wake up Duncan. I shook him hard and told him something was wrong. At first, he was groggy, but the urgency in my voice must have gotten through because he sat up and asked what was going on.

I told him the sink upstairs was blasting and I thought someone was in the house. That woke him up real fast. We left Ian asleep on the couch and crept back up together.

When we got to the bathroom door, Duncan didn't even hesitate. He pushed it open and stepped inside. I was not prepared for what was about to happen.

Almost immediately, a figure launched from around the corner and tackled Duncan from the side. It happened so fast. All I saw was Duncan go down and this guy swinging a piece of PVC pipe like he was about to beat the crap out of him.

I didn't think. I just threw myself at the guy trying to get him off Duncan. We both piled on him and wrestled him to the floor, but he was bigger than both of us.

It was pure chaos. Eventually, the guy broke free and bailed, shoving both of us to the side and sprinting for the stairs. By the time Duncan and I made it to the porch, he was gone.

The police showed up maybe 30 minutes later, but they weren't much help. They determined that the entry point was a downstairs window, which was wide open and had been previously unlocked. Duncan's family doesn't have cameras in their house, so there was no evidence we could turn over.

The police said that it was likely that it had just been a burglar committing a random attack, but my friends and I think it was way more specific than that. First of all, why would a burglar purposely make noise by turning on a sink faucet in the first place? Yeah, it was obviously a trap to lure someone upstairs, but what was the point if he was trying to rob the place?

This makes me think he had a more sinister intention, one I can't fully explain. Duncan is convinced that whoever broke in knew his parents were out of town and had expected only one person to be there that night, him. If that's true, then I can only imagine that whoever had broken intended on seriously injuring or killing Duncan.

I don't even like to think about what would have happened had I gone in that upstairs bathroom by myself. [Music] This happened on a Friday night a couple months back. My girlfriend's parents had planned a weekend trip out of town.

Some kind of anniversary thing, I think. So, naturally, my girlfriend Bonnie invited me to stay at her place. Normally, her parents are pretty strict, and sleeping over in her room is definitely off limits, but since they'd be gone the whole weekend, we figured it wouldn't hurt anyone.

Bonnie lives in one of those suburban neighborhoods where every house looks the same. Quiet enough that by 10:00 it always feels deserted. Honestly, that place creeps me out a little whenever I leave late at night.

So, I was relieved at the thought of just staying put for once. I showed up around 8, brought snacks, and we watched a movie. The usual stuff.

Bonnie's room is on the second floor facing the backyard. And from her window, you can just barely see into the dense line of trees that borders their property. They don't have much exterior lighting, so at night it's pitch black out there, like looking straight into a void.

Bonnie has a queen-sized bed, so we both had plenty of space, enough that we could stretch comfortably without crowding each other. I'll skip the rest of the irrelevant stuff. We eventually turned off the TV around midnight and drifted off.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I vividly remember the unsettling dream that followed. Now, before I tell you about it, I want to say one thing. I've only had a false awakening dream a couple of times in my life before.

This night was one of them. For anyone who's never had one, it's a really strange and almost transcendent experience. Drams like the one I'm about to describe are actually the main reason I believe there are things in this world beyond those that we can see.

In the dream, I woke up abruptly to the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut somewhere downstairs. Before I could even process it, rapid footsteps started racing up the stairs. Without hesitation, I shot up in the bed with the intention of intercepting whoever had broken in.

But something stopped me. Bonnie's room looked identical to how it had looked when we went to sleep. Every detail exactly as it should have been, except for one thing.

One thing that I could still picture in my mind's eye even now. A thin yellow glow was spilling into the bedroom from the crack beneath the bedroom door. It was just a sliver of light, but for some reason, I couldn't tear my eyes away from it.

All my confidence was gone. My vision began tunneling into this little bar of light as everything else started fading to black. The footsteps made it up the stairs and started storming towards the door.

But I couldn't do anything about it. I was frozen. And then silence.

I was still fixated on the light below the door when the voices started. At first, it was just one voice, a woman's voice, saying all sorts of nasty things about me. Insults about my appearance, my outlook on life, my future.

But then things started getting more personal. It knew things about me, deeply personal things I'd never shared with anyone, not even Bonnie. It started reciting events from my past.

Things I had said, things I had done, things no stranger would know, things no stranger could know. One voice became two, two became three, and before I knew it, there were a hundred voices tormenting me with my darkest, most repressed secrets. It genuinely felt like the darkest pieces of my brain were being dragged out of my head and thrown under a microscope.

I couldn't take it anymore. I threw off the covers, bolted across the room, and swung open the bedroom door, ready to confront whoever was harassing me. But the instant the door opened, every light in the house snapped off, and I was plunged into pure darkness.

The voices stopped, and the air turned ice cold, sharp enough to sting my skin. And for a split second, it felt like I'd stepped into another world entirely. I stumbled backwards in a disoriented haze until I found the bed, then scrambled under the covers like I was 6 years old again.

And then I woke up, only I was still dreaming at that point. I just didn't know it. I sat up slowly, obviously still scared, but trying to reassure myself that the nightmare was over.

But to my horror, when I looked at the bedroom door, I saw that same beam of light pouring into the room. And then I heard it. The downstairs door slamming shut again, followed by those same frantic footsteps stomping up the stairs.

The entire sequence replayed itself with agonizing precision. The footsteps stopping at the door. The voices, the sequence, the whole thing.

I couldn't help myself. I again ran towards the door and threw it open only to experience that same cold darkness as before. When I finally woke up for real, my heart was racing.

I was 75% sure I had actually woken up, but I was so disoriented from the stranges of that double false awakening dream that I couldn't be sure. Bonnie was sound asleep next to me, completely unaware of what I had just been through. That's when I knew I was awake for real.

In my dream, I hadn't even thought to look over at the other side of the bed. I started to relax, but when I sat up to look at the bedroom door, I damn near screamed. There under the door was that same strip of light that I had seen in my dreams.

It was the exact same image. It didn't make sense. Bonnie and I were alone and every single light in the house was supposed to be off.

For a second, I just stared, unsure of what to make of what I was seeing. But then I heard footsteps downstairs, clear as day. Someone was inside the house.

Right away, I knew we were being robbed. Without another thought, I pulled out my phone and discreetly called the police. After telling them what was happening, I tiptoed over to the door just to make sure it was locked.

Then I crept back to Bonnie and gently woke her up, putting my hand over her mouth so she wouldn't accidentally make a noise. She didn't scream or anything when I told her, which was a huge relief. It felt like forever, but after a few tense minutes, the police arrived at the house.

Things got loud downstairs. The police actually kicked in the front door and there was a bunch of shouting. When I felt like it was safe to do so, I went downstairs just in time to see two masked men being ushered into a police car in cuffs.

I talked to the officers for a bit and thanked them before going back upstairs. It was late, but Bonnie's parents rushed back from their trip early once they heard what had happened. They weren't even mad that I had stayed the night.

After hearing my story, they were actually grateful. About a week after that, Bonnie called me with more information. The officers told her parents that the two men who had been arrested admitted to breaking in because they'd seen a Facebook post about their trip and didn't think anyone would be home.

As odd as it sounds, thinking about the actual break-in doesn't bother me all that much. The reason I can't get this experience out of my head is because of that damn dream. I can accept that the noise of the break-ins made its way into my head somehow.

That part's fine. But what I don't understand is the actual content of the dream. Bonnie thinks I have some unresolved demons lurking somewhere in my subconscious, but I don't like thinking about that possibility.

And as for the door, I was lying down, so I wouldn't have been able to even see the door, let alone conjure up a perfect image of it in my head. I really don't know what to make of that. But that strip of light is something I see all the time.

I can literally see it in my head now. I don't even have to be closing my eyes, which is even more troubling. It's not like it's obstructing my vision or anything, but it's always there in the back of my mind.

I'm sure that image will go away eventually, but part of me is worried that it'll be seared into my head forever.