I was six-years-old. I awoke to my bedroom, but it was half-lit by different coloured crescents of light hanging, glittering in the air. I climbed out of bed and carefully tip-toed across the room, reaching out to touch one, but as my fingers drew near I could hear a girl screaming far away. That's when I woke up and realised it was me.
Because all of my childhood nightmares are boring as shit I'm going to describe a recent one which is probably equally as boring but I like it anyway. It's a still image of a public bathroom, in front of me I see three green stalls, the left and right stalls open. The left reveals a severely deformed woman, decomposing and filled with maggots. The right stall contains a beautiful woman who has been brutally murdered with a sharp object, her and her stall are covered in blood. The middle stall stays closed for the rest of the dream.
Probably what I get for listening to Manson before bed.
Again, this isn't supposed to be interesting, I just like it.