I am a nightmare. I do not mean that figuratively either. I live in the world of dreams. I go to work when the world is dark and silent with sleep. I am not the villain in my story, but I am the villain in yours.

I can take many different forms. It just depends on the subject I am given. I play with people's fears. I manipulate solid truths. The dark and terrifying are some of my best tools. It is not a very rewarding job, but I am paid with screams.

You might wonder how I became what I am. Perhaps, I will tell you, but you will likely be frightened. Oh, you wish to continue? What an excellent idea. I do so love the tremors that will run up and down your spine.

I was not born a nightmare. No dream ever is. I did not have a difficult childhood. I was never abused. I have no tragic back story.

Not scared yet? Nor should you be. Nothing has happened yet. But perhaps you find it odd that I had a normal background. Do you think nightmares become what they are because of what they experienced? What a fool you are.

There were other dream jobs available, as there always are. People are always demanding pleasant dreams. No one demands nightmares, so there is a small job market. I liked a challenge. It seemed perfect to me. In addition, there were never any classes in school about how to be a nightmare. No one ever wanted to be.

But I did. There is no particular reason I chose the career I did, other than it seemed different and interesting compared to everything else I had ever seen. I started as soon as I could. There was no on the job training either. The only advice I received was to research.

You see, no one has the exact same dream. The same is true with nightmares. What might scare one person might make another laugh. I couldn't have that, so I sometimes spent years learning the habits, insecurities, hidden fears, and subconscious ramblings of my victims. I wanted to be prepared, you see. I craved the perfect combination of sweaty, clammy skin raised with goosebumps, pounding heart, and lungs almost depleted of oxygen. After many years, I had perfected my craft. A night with me sent some running to a therapist, others to their mothers.

There was a perverse sort of thrill that ran through me whenever my victims realized what I was. I guess you can say it became an obsession to help them recognize the darkness I brought out within themselves.

Still not frightened? How unfortunate. Then, I guess I will have to visit you tonight.

The End.

You hope...