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Info
Title: How to Have a Really Horrible Nightmare
Author:
RainLime (SCP-JP Author Page)
Translator:C-Dives (Author Page)
Source: SCP-JP Original / SCP-INT Mirror
Original Posting Date: 2026/08/29
inome 2022/9/7 (Wed) 3:06:48 #iY8MlAzt7E2
There are a fair share of urban legends based on specific rituals. Many have probably heard stories like drawing a hexagram and the word "Bored" on a piece of paper to access another world, or that getting on and off trains on a certain railway line in Tokyo and then disturbing a pile of purified salt will open the gate to the demonic realm.
It was early summer during my sophomore year in high school. I felt like literally nothing in my life was going right, and I started trying out every single one of such rituals I could find. I didn't fully believe in occult stuff or ghosts back then, but in hindsight, I think I was just craving some kind of thrill that would overturn my suffocating daily life.
That said, most of those "rituals" didn't achieve anything at all. Peering into a pair of mirrors placed facing each other at midnight failed to show anything strange, the plush toy stuffed with rice and tied with string never came to life, the 10-yen coin on my paper-made Ouija board didn't even twitch, and operating an elevator according to the instructions didn't transport me to some other dimension. By the time summer vacation rolled around, I'd grown tired of even trying new rituals.
It was probably around that time that I came across the guide on "How to have a really horrible nightmare."
Truthfully, I can't quite recall where I found the method. It might have been in the corner of a worn-out occult book from the library, or perhaps a post on a seedy internet forum. Or maybe it was in the reader submissions section of a magazine. What I clearly remember is that there was a warning in red letters stating: (Warning: You will have a really, REALLY horrible one).
And I tried it — I think. And sure enough, I had a really horrible nightmare.
inome 2022/9/7 (Wed) 3:15:17 #iY8MlAzt7E2
You might be wondering as you read up to this point: Why is this post so vague despite being based on your own experience, and what exactly was that nightmare about?
Actually, I barely remember anything about that summer vacation.
No matter how boring those days may have been, they surely couldn't have been completely devoid of events. While I can recall various things that happened during my freshman summer vacation, I have only two memories from that summer of my sophomore year. The first is, as I mentioned earlier, learning how to have a really horrible nightmare. And the second is the feeling I had right in the middle of having that very nightmare.
I call it "in the middle," but I can’t recall the specific details of its content. Yet, I can still vividly and tangibly recall the gut-wrenching revulsion I felt toward what happened in the nightmare and the searing regret of wishing I'd never tried it if it meant having such a horrible experience.
I can only speculate, but perhaps my brain is refusing to let me recall the nightmare because it was just too traumatic. Psychologically, something like this isn't unusual, and it makes sense if I assume the gaps in my memories of that summer vacation are an aftereffect of it.
So I believe that how-to guide was real. Even though I can’t recall any of the steps or the nightmare itself. Maybe I shouldn't recall it anyway.
inome 2022/9/7 (Wed) 4:05:26 #iY8MlAzt7E2
Now, what I've written so far is just about my past memories. But I recently realized something about this. Up until now, I've described how I have no memories of the summer of my high school sophomore year. Looking back carefully, though, I also have no memories of that autumn.
I do remember the facts, like coming in second place at a club tournament or working a food stall at the school festival. But the emotions and scenes from those moments just won't come to mind at all. It's not just autumn. My entire life since the summer vacation of my sophomore year feels as unreal as photos in an album from before I can even remember anything.
A moment ago, I opened the camera roll on my phone. At the top is a photo of me and a coworker, arms around each others' shoulders in front of the ocean. I know their name, but I can't recall a single thing we talked about. I remember going to the beach on a specific date, but neither the scent of saltwater nor the feel of the sand surfaces in my mind.
I also realized something else important.
I have no memory of waking up from that really horrible nightmare.
inome 2022/9/7 (Wed) 4:12:19 #iY8MlAzt7E2
Typically, memories of nightmares should be accompanied by the feeling of relief you experience after jolting awake, sighing and thinking how terrifying it was. If you had a dream so dreadful that your brain refuses to recall it, then that sense of relief should be all the more intense. And yet, however hard I try to trace my memory, I always hit a dead end at that very last moment within the nightmare. The vivid, visceral emotions of revulsion and regret.
Which is why I began to wonder if my life since that event hasn't been a form of escapism, akin to the flashbacks I see in the nightmare, as if dreaming within a dream. Perhaps my brain has created the illusion of me having successfully escaped the nightmare, but in reality, the clock hasn't ticked forward one bit, and the real me is still trapped within it.
I've heard that dreams are how our brains organize memories. If that's the case, then being unable to dream about something you've never experienced with a sense of reality is perfectly natural. I know about the existence of an internet forum named Parawatch. But I've never posted there or exchanged words with anyone. Which is why I don't get any replies to this thread.
I can no longer see the world as anything other than a stage set made of plywood. The thought that something really horrible will one day crawl out from behind it fills me with this peculiar feeling, somewhere between dread and anticipation.