I'll first state that in nearly every dream I have, I am more than capable of simply opening my eyes at any time during the dream, and force myself awake. I rarely do this, but when I do, the results are instant and usually satisfactory. I'll also explain the term, "False Awakening". This is when you wake up from a single dream, into another dream. This can be confusing.
Now, as my nightmare began, I was inside of a school, and had just left it. My...
My boyfriend was with me, and we were walking and joking around. This was actually nice. We proceeded apace, and the school began to disappear, us being in a different setting. This being a dream, and in fact, a dream that I believe was lucid, I could easily handle this.
What I could not handle was what soon happened after. While I was in the new setting, which was simply a suburban town, my boyfriend ceased to exist and I simply walked along, being oblivious to his absence. This was intentional, but I feel I began to lose control of the dream at this point. I was hit by a sudden feeling of great danger, and my chest was hit with a great pain. This passed after a few seconds, though I feel that I may or may not have had control afterwards.
Something, some thought or being told me, in words, that I was currently dreaming. I already knew this, and I accepted it. They continued to say that in real life, I was currently in an ambulance and being carried to the hospital for a heart attack. I was told that if I woke up, I would die from a heart attack instantly. I believed this entirely, for it was my mind telling me it was so, and my mind saw fit to believe it.
The only issue was, when I die in a dream, I wake up. My nightmare so began to attempt to kill me. Trees swirled, and I felt the pain as they tore my arm open, crashing by. I fled, and I could control only part of the dream, and that was the part I was intensely focused on. I manipulated the dream, I tried to make it better, but I couldn't leave it, I believed and still do believe in a way that if I had woken up, I would die. I fear death more than anything. Anything at all.
The dream went further. Suddenly, I was watching people I know being killed by frightful things. Fires sprouted from nothingness, and I caught aflame only to be put out by my mind. A flood was parallel to me, crashing through the buildings and was about to hit me and kill me. I couldn't let myself die. If I died, I would die.
So I ran, and I manipulated the dream further. A tornado began to chase me, then a second one. I managed to deal with one, but the second one hit me as I began screaming, as the pain went over my body and I truly felt the pain. I was thrown into the air and slammed into a house, my limbs being torn from my body and my body breaking as I died.
I then experienced what was the scariest moment of my life, and that of which I remember so clearly, even now. As I awoke from the dream, having died, I didn't wake into my room. I experienced a false awakening, and awoke inside of an ambulance. My chest was burning, and I was trying to scream, but I couldn't make a sound. I was in so much pain, and I feared dying so badly. Everything I saw was tinted dark red, and black dots began to appear over my vision and widen. I was terrified. I still am. My last thoughts of that dream were not about me, they were about my boyfriend.
I suppose he must've liked that, though I've never told it to him.
I awoke from that dream with my chest hurting, into real life. My heart was beating rapidly, I was drenched in sweat, and the very first thing I did was turn and bite the pillow, screaming into it and not screaming simultaneously. My chest hurt so badly for a few minutes before subsiding. My left arm was sore for the day, and I've experienced nothing scarier.
Today, I still think that that dream came closer to killing me in real life than anything, including a tree that slammed into my room. That dream haunts me when I think about it, and it remains to be the only dream to have had me have a mental break-down, and even multiple. That night, I cried and I cried. I screamed, and I was in pain. When I later related it with my boyfriend, who was more than surprised at me being sensitive instead of the cold, unfeeling vessel I usually behave like, I cried to him. It hurt me so badly, and scared me so badly.
I'm still terrified that the last thoughts I had when I truly believed myself to be dying was not of me, but of him. Make of that what you will.
We cried together, and discussed death, and the other dying. I have a tendency to have dreams recur. I never, ever want that one to. I would be too terrified, too scared, I am too terrified and too scared. I don't want it to happen. It makes me scared to this day.