Jurassic Park Nightmares

Bahaha! This reminds me of exactly how I felt the first time I saw Jurassic Park. I couldn't stop looking around the room, thinking that under my bed wouldn't be a very effective place to hide from a velociraptor (he could smell me too easily) but my closet might work.

In fact, Jurassic Park is the only movie that has ever given me nightmares. Ever.

And its always the same dream. We are still living in our little white house on Poly Drive, where my brother Stan and I share a bedroom. My bed is closest to the window (which opens to the sidewalk that leads to our backdoor). There is also, oddly enough, a small window from our room that looks into the laundry room/coat room/ back door area.

In my dream, three velociraptors force their way into the laundry room. It's night and the whole house is asleep. I'm the only one awake, still reading some book that I can't put down. I hear the disturbance and look into the next room, only to see the terrifying dinosaurs smelling our laundry piles and making their way toward the kitchen. I rouse Stan awake. Somehow I already know the rest of my family isn't in the house (I like how in dreams, we just know these sorts of things), so they're safe. I open the window and Stan crawls through. He's safe.

Then for some reason, I can never get out the window. The window is suddenly too small. Or too high up. Or has slammed shut on me. In all the times I've had this dream, I've never gotten out the window. Instead, I search frantically for a place to hide as I hear the raptors in the hall. Usually I dive under the bed. Sometimes I pull the dresser out from the wall and crawl behind it. It's difficult finding good hiding spots in my little bedroom.

The raptors crash through the door. They're huge. In fact, I think they usually transform from velociraptors to T-Rex-es by the time they get to my room. I crouch and hold my breath as they thud into the room, sniffing and snorting.

Let me tell you, its the most terrifying dream I've ever had. Nothing else compares. I'm trapped and I can't run. When I do occasionally try to run past them to the open door, its feels like I am running waist deep through molasses. I wonder how a psychologist would analyze this one.

Of course, the dinosaurs stay in my room for an eternity. My subconscious likes to torture me, I think, because this part lasts the longest, and it never really ends. I just wake up. There's no closure. The dinosaurs don't leave, they don't die, and they don't miraculously become friendly or turn into lovable puppies.

I've stopped watching scary movies. I really don't like them in general, but part of me avoids them because I don't want to keep reliving The Ring or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in my dreams all the time. Giant dinosaurs in tiny spaces is enough for me.