The Abyss: Halloween Nightmare Creepypasta

I've never seen The Abyss, and probably never will. It sometimes rears its head on lists of classic sci-fi films, but not at enthusiastic enough placings to seem worth my time. It's probably about underwater, not space. Boring.

But its vague presence still wormed its way into my mind somehow, forming the basis of a rare adult nightmare about struggling to escape The Scariest Scene of All Time.

Penelope: A confessional memoir

The following is a true story that I have to get off my chest.

It's up to you whether you think it's an actual experience from my life or the authentic transcript of a dream I just had, fuelled by reading some messed-up horror stories, listening to a radio discussion about dreams and an undigested bit of beef fajita.

Tamest dreams

This will be the final instalment in my Tedious Dreams Trilogy, I promise, but I wanted to talk about lucid dreams - something I've been intrigued by for years and actively pursued for a while, before my tragic and embarrassing lack of imagination caused me to grow disillusioned. You'll see why.

A nicemare to remember

In January I wrote about some of my most memorable nightmares, trying and probably failing to make them sound suitably creepy. Today, after waking up from a dream with some strangely pleasant parts, I drew on my unconscious memories again to describe some memorable dreams I've had at different times in my life that have left me feeling warm and peaceful, sometimes for several hours after waking before harsh reality and earthly problems intruded.

I may be too work-focused and easily distracted to ever consider meditation or other paths to peace and harmony outside of REM sleep, but it's nice to know I can at least experience these feelings unconsciously from time to time, and if my final experience in life is to have one of these pleasant dreams as I pass away in my sleep, that would be the best way to go.

Hang on... is that comforting or an extremely bleak thing to have just thought about? I'm in a good mood right now, so I won't dwell on it. Here are some of my favourite nicemares.

Where dreams come true

After some bad experiences, I don't stay in dorms so much any more - unless I'm in an expensive country like Japan, where even a shelf in what feels (and smells) like a laundry cupboard will set you back a couple of thousand yen. But there is one benefit I've noticed to sleeping in shared rooms and being woken several times each night by someone's unpleasant snoring and other nocturnal emissions - it's really conducive to wacky dreaming and recall.

I don't dream as much as I used to, or at least most of the time there's nothing worth remembering. I long for the nights when I'd wake with excitement after some gothic nightmare of an unseen presence looming in an architecturally impossible castle, animatronic exhibits that became inexplicably horrifying when activated, descending a staircase into darkness and being gripped with terror or being cast out into the unending void of space, to name a few common tropes. I was probably a bit of a weird kid.

Although I don't have nightmares any more, I still occasionally have dreams that make me laugh, and that I'm convinced are genuine comedy gold for about five minutes after waking. Until I look back over my hazily scrawled notes later in the day and realise that not only are they not funny, they actually make no sense whatsoever. Here's an example of a joke somebody told me in a dream that genuinely caused me to laugh myself awake:

Q: What's the heaviest thing in the world?

A: A pterodactyl with a rock.

What does that even mean? When I told this to Oliver, he said it made him laugh, which is either a compliment to the writing skills or my unconscious or an early warning sign of mental illness on his part.

Recently, I've had a few dreams that have stood up in the harsh light of daytime criticism and given me hope that maybe my imagination hasn't been completely pulverised by the corporate adult world. So, like a latter day Lovecraft, Coleridge or de Quincey, I thought I'd appropriate one of these enjoyable dreams near-verbatim and make an almost entirely unembellished short story out of it.

Whoa-oah, we're halfway... where?

Every time I update this map, it feels like I'm dissing those countries in the middle.

Sorry Sri Lanka, maybe some day

When I left Scotland 18 months ago today, I'd only planned out about three weeks' worth of trips. I assumed I'd make the rest up as I went along. It was an ambitious, optimistic and possibly foolish level of trust to place in myself, but I'm pleased to say I didn't let me down. This is starting to sound a bit schizophrenic - I'd like to clarify there are definitely no psychological side-effects of travelling alone for a year and a half.

People have sometimes asked me how long I'm thinking of keeping this up, and occasionally I've suggested three years as a rough figure. This is based on previous phases in my life cycle that saw me spend three years studying in Lancaster followed by three years working in Edinburgh (prior to University I was in my larval stage and it doesn't really count as life). But really, it just depends if I get bored or find somewhere I want to settle down. These things haven't happened yet.

Only one thing is certain: I'm not going back there.