Don't you hate how when you get older your nightmares are no longer nightmares? Let me put it this way, don't you hate that you stop having nightmares about monsters, ghost and aliens, and started having nightmares about being alone, losing loved ones, or not being able to pay the bills? I think most of us agree that thinking back the nightmares of childhood are nothing compared to the shit we have now. Yet sometimes things are best left in the past and I have found this out the hard way.

See a few weeks back I was sick of fearing going to sleep; my nightmares are the ones about the bills. Damn bills that are on my mind haunting me during my waking hours; only to find them penetrating themselves into my dreams. At first I wished for happy dreams, where the world would look bright and I could buy a new car and all that bullshit—my brain wasn't having any of that. So I went about a plan to induce other types of nightmares. I started reading all sorts of horror books and watching horror movies. Hell I even went to that strange side of YouTube where they mix monsters and politics.

Sure enough it worked. I was dreaming of weird shit after a few nights. I felt great, and even during the day the bills seemed to slip my mind. Not that I wasn't paying them—I did, I just wasn't worried about them as much. I even started letting my mind wander about simple things. Light going to the bathroom; no longer was the hall light reflecting of the bathroom window. No, it was a face from the other side looking in. Maybe that is where I took this a little to far.

See the more I let my mind travel down this path of make-believe; The more crazy things I started to see. One of the first things that really caught me off guard was talking when to my boss. His father died years ago and was also the founder of the company; so he was cremated and his ashes sit atop a pillar in his office over looking the city. As I stood there listening to him about how he was going to change which department I was working for, I watched as the top of the urn twisted itself off and quietly fell to the floor. That in and of itself was scary enough but then I watched as these little things climbed out of the urn.

Little fucking monsters!

They looked like little imps. Walking hunched over, nude, blackish green skin and long pointed ears. No hair, no noses and big ass eyes. They hoped down to the floor just chatting like two coworkers. Laughing and using this language I had never heard before. It wasn't long before my boss pulled my attention back by asking me why I didn't tell him the top fell of the urn. I sure as hell didn't tell him what I saw. No I just told him I was sick and wasn't thinking straight. So he sent me home to rest up before starting my new task.

Once home those little fucker were everywhere. I mean my walk home I saw a few, but in my house I could hear them. In the walls, under my floor—everywhere. So I left and went for a walk, at first I had thought these things were just sick little human like beings. Going about their day much like us; then I saw how they truly interacted with us.

I was passing an old coffee shop where they still had tables to eat and drink outside. I watched as one of these little monsters climbed out of the storm drain next to me and run across the street. The thing dodged traffic like a small dog. Once across it hoped onto a table and climbed into this old mans cup of coffee. The cup was way smaller than the imp-thing but it fit right in there. I watched as the man took a sip, not a drink, a sip; before he stood up in pain. I watched as the little monster climbed out of the man's chest. I mean Jesus fucking Christ, it just climbed out like there was a fucking door there. The man fell over; I didn't need to standing there when the young woman he was with checked his pulse. No, I knew he was dead because the little thing had some sort of glow in its hands. It sparked and buzzed around like a bug.

It just slowly crossed the street and before it hopped back into the drain it looked at me—I made eye contact with it. It took a moment but a look of shock crossed its noseless face. Its big eyes widened even bigger. It tried to pretend it didn't see me and climbed back into the drain. I could hear it yelling in that weird language and others responding to it. I started to walk off questing why I could hear and see these little things. Had I opened my mind to something I should not have?

I didn't have time to question this. As they started pouring out of the storm drains and alleyways—chasing me. Some getting ran over by cars in their pursuit, leaving behind little bloody messes. Some jumped on me and I had to pulled them off. Their bodies slick in my hands. I tossed them into cars, people—what ever I could to get them off of me. I'm sure to everyone else it just looked like I was running around like a mad man, waving my arms around and screaming. I don't care. I saw them take that man's, er, light. Soul maybe? I don't know but it killed him.

When I was in the elevator heading up to my apartment, I stomped the shit out of so many of them dropping in from the Service hatch. Their little heads popping under my feet like oranges. The lady who entered after me slipped in the blood, but she wasn't shocked by the amount of it. Maybe it didn't look like blood to her. I ran into my apartment and slammed the door shut.

But they had been waiting. I ran to the kitchenette grabbed a knife and held it out in front of myself as they circled me. I used what little distance it gave me to lock myself in the bathroom. That's were I am now and they are still scratching away at the door. Little fingers digging away. I don't know how much longer it is going to be before they make their way in here. They scream in that horrid hell talk and I stop questioning anything. What was the point? I'm sure when they find me they will think I did this before of the new promotion. They will say I just couldn't handle thing anymore, I was stressed and acting strange.