The dream began as my waking state had ended: I was in bed, unable to find a comfortable position no matter how I tossed and turned. I tangled myself in my blanket and sweat through my clothes, somehow feeling it despite having never felt something in a dream before. Dreams before this night consisted solely of sight and sound. Incapable of relaxing, I rolled out of bed and tromped to the bathroom. In the mirror I saw how sweat pasted my hair to my forehead and glistened between my nose and upper lip like a dewy mustache. My skin looked pale, sickly.
I staggered down the hall to my parents’ room and pushed open the door. My parents were sitting up in bed, but they weren’t themselves. Their skin had turned charcoal black, with reddish orange cracks pulsating with an inner fire. They were like human-shaped volcanic rocks, each of them ready to erupt into a living inferno. Their eyes had no pupils or irises. Instead, they were gray scales, like windows of abandoned buildings, painted over and whitewashed. And their teeth . . . Their teeth were much larger than they were before and filed into sharp points.
I ran back to my bedroom to warn my brother, but he was already awake, sitting cross-legged with his head down. A violent, crimson stream spewed from his mouth—a mouth that was open wider than possible. I screamed his name, not sure if he was dying or becoming one of them, only wanting this nightmare to end because that was all this could be, a nightmare, because people didn’t turn into demons, and people didn’t vomit blood, not like this anyway, this was like water from a burst pipe dyed red. The fluid made a puddle around his legs as it soaked into the sheet and comforter.
I covered my ears and backpedaled, shaking, sweating. Denying. Screaming at myself to wake up. Wake up NOW.
Like a cut in a movie, I was outside with my mother. It was daytime now, late afternoon. I accepted this transition as people tend to accept dream logic when they’re dreaming.
“I had a dream last night,” I said. “It felt so real.”
A heavy, synthesized chord vibrated through the air. Someone had scored this scene, and why wouldn’t it have a soundtrack? Music could express what words could not, and the sustained minor chord spoke the language of this unvoiced darkness, the unease inspired by the nightmare, a nightmare still ongoing, though I didn’t yet know it.
Cut to my parent’s bedroom, later. Dusk had dimmed the light coming in from outside. My father was holding my hand after I told him about the dream. He would not let go. He pulled me toward him, into the bed, under the blanket, into a darkness without a bottom.
He looked like himself, but I knew he had changed. The dream felt real because it was real. He was a demon. My mother was a demon, playing the role of comforter during our walk on the street. And my brother, where was he? Was he dead or had he also changed?
I pulled away so hard I fell backwards and hit the floor. The impact woke me up, for real this time. I was in my bed. It was time to get ready for school. I clenched the sheet in my fists and took a deep breath, tried to convince myself I was safe, I was in my body, I was real.
I got up and walked to the bathroom. I got dressed and ate breakfast. Headed to the bus stop. Every step was a reassurance, a recalibration of reality, or at least the familiar one.
I had that dream thirty years ago—almost exactly. It was the first and, as far as I can remember, only time I’ve experienced the dream-inside-a-dream phenomenon. Unless you’ve experienced that yourself, I don’t think the words exist to make you understand just how disorienting it can be for the dreamer. I went through the motions that day, sure enough—school, homework, TV, dinner with the family—but it was a few days before I accepted that I was awake and indeed in my familiar reality.
Some thoughts: that was sixth grade, September, so I was in a new school. My parents’ marriage was on the cusp of its disintegration, which I think kids pick up on more than adults fully realize. I was starting to go through puberty, so all sorts of shifts were happening in my body.
The world I knew no longer was, and my subconscious was reckoning with it and preparing me. I don’t think we fully appreciate how powerful our brains are, but they are limitless, and the more we listen to them (its real voice, not the voices of those who tried to tell us who we are, the noise that sometimes garbles things in the form of intrusive thoughts), the more we realize that they have our back. We just might not always immediately understand this because our subconscious speaks a different language.
However, the concept of dreams inside dreams throws reality itself into question. This can be scary or comforting depending on your state of mind. All you can do really is take one breath and then another, accept the rules of whatever reality you find yourself in, and work within them until you’re not simply surviving but thriving.
Have you ever experienced a dream inside a dream? What was that like for you? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
On that note, the Author’s Preferred Edition for Digital Darkness is up for pre-order. You can buy a signed copy from my store, or you can purchase the digital and paperback editions from Amazon and such. The official release date is tomorrow, September 9, 2025 (or 9/9/9, a number which symbolizes transformation or completion).
This book has undergone a lot of transformations, and I believe that this is its most complete version. Gone are the moments that drag the narrative down, and I’ve cut many (but not all) of the threads that leave the door open for more books. I explain why I chose to do a new version in the foreword of this edition, but long story short, Digital Darkness is a story that always felt unfinished. Now it feels less so.
Here’s the back cover copy:
Vanessa just wanted to see her favorite musician in concert. Now, she's fighting for her life against ravenous rats and superhuman sentries in a game called Rusted Blood. But surviving is only the beginning. The virtual reality she tries so desperately to escape has spilled into the real world, and the sinister inhabitants and architects of the game have come with it.
In this new, author's preferred edition of Digital Darkness, Splatterpunk Award winner Lucas Mangum (author of Snow Angels, Gods of the Dark Web and Saint Sadist) invites you into a nightmare where reality isn't what it seems.
The book is for fans of ARGs and survival horror. It contains graphic content and a deep sense of derealization.
Check out the badass cover by Matt Seff Barnes.
