Nightmares as always…

Am sorry I haven’t been doing my blog, I have been dragged into the deepest nightmares again, and I simply cannot get rid of them.

I really am trying all different kinds of ideas to solve this, but until then I will keep being knackered daily as I relive the horror I sleep in.
Last night I tried hard to have really good thoughts to clear up my head before I slept, but to no avail.

I was sitting in a dark room; noises were coming from behind the door. I sat on a floor I didn’t really recognise, the water was dripping from a tap into a filthy sink.
The noise resonated loudly in my ears, much louder than a normal tap dripping. It was a bang –bang, like a spoon hitting on an oil drum.
I sat there with my body tensed into a cramped uncomfortable shape.
I stared at the unusual wallpaper, it was purple swirls and somewhere in my head it was familiar, but from where I just couldn’t work out in my fugged brain.
Somewhere in the back of my memory it was all very recognisable, I was trying to make sense of the situation, but my heart beat was now as loud as the tap dripping.

The cold floor made me shiver horribly and I was aware I wasn’t wearing underwear as I could feel my bare bum wet and icy. I started to stare at my knees and the scab on them was very familiar, I remember that scab, it was when I came off my bike at the bottom of the hill across from my home as a child.
I recalled how a bus came trundling towards me as I managed to cycle off the hill and onto the main road, I skidded onto the pavement and came off my bike just inches before the wee single decker bus crashed into me full on.
Bits of the scab were bleeding where I had picked at it. Why am I here? I tried to ask myself with a degree of rationality but the fear in my heart and the tap dripping in my ears was unbearable.
I was terrified but I wasn’t sure what I was scared of, in the background I started to hear music. It was from another room, it was Dusty Springfield singing, the words were becoming clearer, I knew it was my living room that the noise was coming from but not my living room here where I live but the living room I had as a child in the 1960s.
That old living room, with the radiogram and pink flamingos over the mantle piece, with the old fire burning coal and the black and white television sitting in a big wooden box in the corner, I want to run away from here but my legs wont move.
Why am I here again?

I hear scratching at the door; I smile at this - as it is my DOG! I know it’s my dog, Major. He is trying to get into me and cuddle up with me, my legs wont move. I try really, really hard to move them and suddenly I am up on my feet.
I slowly walk to the bathroom door and open it, the dog shuffles in and snuffles up to me. His wiry coat and musty smell are so good, I cry, I can feel tears on my face.

I feel so happy to see him, I missed him so much but still the fear is mixed in my soul, I can’t escape the noise of the tap and the music coming from the living room.
Suddenly my body drops to the floor I can’t see anything but a pair of shoes, I don’t like these shoes, I know these shoes and they scare me. I feel a hand on my hair; it is pulling me up sharply- the pain in my scalp is searing through my brain, I get up to stop the hair pulling, if I stand up quick I can catch up with my scalp.

The dog barks, it snarls and starts howling behind me, the tap drips loudly, the music gets louder and suddenly I feel like my head is going to burst, I am now absolutely frozen with fear as I see the shoes meet the trousers, and those trousers become a blue shirt, and the shirt leads up to a mans face that I now fully recognise.

He smiles and lifts up his other arm, the hand is holding a long pointed sharp knife and he quickly brings it down into my face. I feel the pain rip through my cheek, my tongue has been slashed inside and I cannot scream, the dog is barking and skidding all over the floor behind me, I can hear his claws on the wax floor covering.

I try to wake up, I beg to wake up but I cannot somehow pull myself from the horror and get away.
Then I can hear my name being called “Janey, Janey” it drowns out the music, the dog barking, the tap dripping and the horrible searing pulsating pain in my face.

Husband is shaking me “Janey are you ok? Wake up, you are screaming, are you ok? Janey wake up!”

So that has been my life for the past three days, continuous nightmares and blood dripping fear….at least I got to see my dog again. I loved him.