Awakened just now from the first nightmare I've had in about six months by J, was was having the first nightmare not at least partially derived from memory since early childhood.
My nightmare was about a superhuman and evil dog.
Her nightmare was about a superhuman and evil dog.
Her dog was huge, a bundle of corded muscle, chasing her through a house and eventually cornering her at the foot of a staircase.
My dog was mid-sized, charcoal grey, living in the backyard of my neighbors in Merced. It leapt over a gate as high as my head and landed on me, its jaws closing on my left hand (pulping it, squishing it completely). I had my Boy Scout pocket knife (the one that is, even now, lying next to the bed where it was used earlier today to open a bottle) and stabbed the dog in the face and left flank repeatedly with the bottle-opener/screwdriver head but it was like stabbing a sandbag-- it did not bleed and it did not seem all that affected. However, it did run off, and I went into our house where I found my stepdad. He and I ventured back out into the night to tell our neighbor about the incident and to find the dog. This is where I was awakened by J waking up.
When J woke up, she could hear the panting of the dog from her nightmare, as it was me, breathing in panic in my nightmare.
Took us a few minutes to calm down, at which point she decided a cigarette would be good. I agreed to come down with her but I started to drift off, and instantly I had a second or two of dream in which we went out front of the Armory for her to smoke and the dog, which had gotten loose in my neighborhood in Merced, was now here, and it padded up into sight on the sidewalk.
We're going outside now so she can have her cigarette but fucking hell, I'm damn well going to have something nastier than that pocket knife while we're out there.