Dreaming

I remember I would wake up screaming and nearly drown myself in cold sweat. I’d try to turn on a light or get a drink of water, but I couldn’t even move. It was only a matter of seconds until my eyes would turn into old sepia camera filters, and “they” would appear.
   
You probably wonder what I mean when I say that. I mean, the figures that defined my childhood, and have stood the test of time. They appeared by my door like always, leaning slowly, stabbing me with those blank, obscured eyes. My lungs felt like they were decaying, and my heart felt like it was draining but keeping me alive long enough to meet the worst possible end. It felt like days would pass before a hand would clearly grasp the frame of the door, and one of them would come forward… but I’d never see it fully. I’d wake up. Then and there, I’d wake up.
   
I’d always run to the bathroom afterwards. Tonight, though, tonight is different as I have yet to wake up. Hell, I don’t know if it’s night anymore. I’d have the same dream maybe twice a week, but now, I lost track of how many times it’s repeated. I don’t even know if I’m still asleep, losing my mind, or just dead. 
   
But this isn’t what scares me the most. What really scares me is that I think they’re coming closer each time, almost close enough to see a face. 

I feel like my thoughts were all written out for me, like I’ve done all this before. It’s the strangest thing, really. I remember I would wake up screaming and nearly drown myself in cold sweat. I’d try to turn on a light or get a drink of water, but I couldn’t even move. It was only a matter of seconds until my eyes would turn into old sepia camera filters, and “they” would appear.