Hey, guys. I realize that this is the first legitimate story I've posted on here, and I've wanted to do something like this for a while. I haven't given much thought to this and it wasn't beta'd, so I'm going to try my best to not have any substantial typos. I'm writing on an empty stomach right now and it's difficult for me to think at the moment.

Excerpt:

While scientists say that dreams come from some sort of inner desire that your brain wishes to fill, as in a void of some sort where you see something that could fit perfectly into it, no one knows the truth behind nightmares. I always thought that it was a mental expression of your deepest fears, but some of the things I'd dream of either made no sense at all or were completely impossible. Even at the age of 23 I still recall my earliest childhood nightmares. Something as silly as a spout in my old living room that everything that came close to it into oblivion, or perhaps a floating and alien orb of light meant to kidnap my mother and father. Over the last few years, the bad dreams had gotten progressively worse - and usually, I didn't remember them.