Perchance to wake

I remember a dream I had several years ago in which I found myself alone in a forest on a moonless, starless night. As is the way of dreams, I had no idea how I'd came to be there, or how I was going to get out. Or even where I was going to go. As I walked along I knew that I was being followed, though I couldn't see or tell by what. Even when I tried to stop and hide I knew that they were still there behind me, still hidden from me. I carried onwards until I realised that these things were all around me, and with that realisation they revealed themselves - a dozen or more hooded creatures clothed in black. Each had an animal like skull in place of a face and each carried a scythe. I ran and they pursued, though I still didn't know where I was running to. The creatures gave chase and with nowhere to hide I was soon caught. They held me down and began hacking at me with their scythes.

It tickled.

I mention it because it's probably the closest thing I've had to a nightmare - at least it's the sort of thing I can describe and which most people will automatically interpret as nightmare (at least if I leave off the tickling). Except it wasn't. I just don't have nightmares. Even dreams like the one I just described I view with a sort of bemused detachment, even contentment. I simply have happy dreams - I can't help it. This isn't a complaint by any means, but It does make me wonder how common nightmares are.

I suppose as a result of this my idea of a bad dream is something else entirely. My worst dreams are those in which everything is absolutely perfect. Where everyone is happy, where I'm happy and nothing will ever happen to change that. But sometimes there's a scrabbling realisation at the back of my mind that's telling me it's not real, that it is just a dream. I don't want to listen to it, but the harder I try to ignore it the more I know it's true. And then comes the point when I can't disregard it any longer and I start to wake up. And no matter how hard I try, no matter how I try to frantically cling to the dream, to stop it slipping away, there's nothing I can do to prevent it. And as I wake, there's a brief moment where it still seems it might be possible to take the dream with me, that by wishing hard enough, by hoping hard enough I can somehow make it real.

It never works.

I don't have a real nightmare to compare it to, so I don't know if it's better or worse or merely different. But it hurts all the same.