I’m in a house. It looks like my grandmother’s house, with a huge courtyard and a big main building. There are tons of people around. It looks like it might be a wedding, but it *feels* like a simaaya (naming ceremony for newborns). There’s food everywhere; everyone is happy and chatty.
I’m looking for my mom. Or someone, I’m not sure. I walk around the house, which is slowly turning into our old home I am very well aware of this transformation and creeped out by it. Things start to move in slow motion, my head gets heavy, vision blurry, and I have the sudden urge to run. I lift my foot to do so, but it feels like lead. The sense of urgency is getting greater, but I’m not sure why, which causes me to panic. I push myself to run faster, to become lighter. I look around frantically at the people around me, but no one seems to feel my panic, or even notice that I’m there. My breathing speeds up, I’m clawing at the walls, trying to push my way into some momentum, when he appears behind me. I try my best not to look, but my body betrays me. My head turns.
There stands, at the far corner of the room, the silhouette of a man. I can’t see his eyes or any of his features, but I know he’s looking straight at me, and he’s coming for me. A whimper escapes my lips. I need to run.
As if released from a giant rubber band, all of a sudden I am incredibly light, and I am incredibly fast. I bolt out of the room and into the courtyard, which has transformed itself into a series of alleyways. You have got to be kidding me. I run faster, jumping over brooms and buckets, trying to gain some space between me and my attacker to-be. I can hear his footsteps behind me, but I am confident, because now my feet are barely touching the ground, that’s how fast I’m going. I make a sharp turn, grabbing on to the wall for support as I swing myself around the corner, bits of wall crumbling in my hand as I let go.
And then I see them.
It’s cool, I got this. It’s only a couple of steps, I can jump them really easily and be on my way. But then I can’t, I don’t. My brain refuses to let go of reality enough to make me athletic. I trip, almost too clumsily, over the first step and and sprawl out on the ground, one leg up as if trying to climb the stairs, the other stretched out behind me, looking like the chalk outline at a murder scene. I turn around, panicked, and see that my assailant is right at my heels. He is literally at my heel. I scramble, claw at the ground, try to pull myself back up, but it’s too late. I can feel it. He’s grabbed my ankle. He’s here.
I take a deep breath, and turn around to take a look at my attacker.
Shiny white head, bright red hair, balding. “What the….?” He looks up at me, with a painted red smile, and a bright red nose. “Ummm, is this a clown?” He smiles (with his actual lips), and fangs protrude from his comparably tiny mouth.
A vampire clown.
In real life, I am terrified of clowns. In dream life, I am terrified of clowns. I don’t know what a vampire clown is, in real life or otherwise, but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing I want holding on to my foot. I start to kick frantically, digging my free heel deep into the clown’s skull, as he laughs hysterically and shakes his head. I kick as hard as I can, as frequently as I can, but his grip his strong, and his skull is stronger. I can’t get my foot free. I try to take off my shoe and slip my foot through his hands, but I’m wearing sneakers…… really well-tied sneakers.
What feels like 30 minutes later, I am exhausted. I lay my head on the ground, let out a sigh, and resign to my fate. I manage to open one eye to look down at the clown, who is still laughing. He sees that I have finally agreed to offer myself as a sacrifice, and prepares to receive. His mouth opens wide, fangs now fully protruding, and with a crazed, hungry look in his eyes (which are looking straight into mine), he puts his hand in his pocket, and takes out a plastic fork.
The clown rolls up my pants leg, exposes my ankle, and starts to stab it with the plastic fork.
“Seriously, dude?” are the only words I can utter as I watch this vampire clown use a plastic fork to make me draw blood, then frantically suck the minuscule droplets from my ankle. I look around, hoping to find someone who can confirm that this is indeed happening, but there is no one. I close my eyes, open them again, and see the same scene. I shake my trapped leg, and watch the clown chase my ankle with the plastic fork, desperately stabbing at it.
The dream ends with me sighing in exasperation as I yell, “USE YOUR FANGS, YOU IDIOT!”