I apologize as I don’t remember exactly when these “dreams” started, but I know they lasted until I was twelve. They created the most anxiety in my waking life due to their nature.
Although torturous, they were not filled with other beings or involved specific training like the other recurring dreams I had. These were death dreams.
Sometimes, but rarely, they would be of myself dying. Like a very Milab type experience where a lab coated doctor strangled me to death for flirting with his daughter. That might have been at the cloning center/DUMB.
Most of these experiences, I would be in someone else’s body, living their life as a passenger and it would be all over the map in terms of different characters. I was shot and bled out as an older african-american woman. Or I’d be stabbed from behind as some covert agent. Or walking over a land mine as a soldier. None of it felt like it was me, but I was there, taking in everything.
The main trauma of these experiences was not the getting killed part, but the cold blackness that would come over me in those experiences. I would feel the world fading away, until there was nothing but darkness. Then a voice would tell me to let go, and I would give in to dying. Over and over, fighting for life and to having to give up. Never a light to go to, only the empty darkness.
The level of extreme anxiety and confusion I felt waking up in my body after those night is hard to convey. Sometimes it would be 3 or 4 death experiences a night. I would fall asleep praying, begging God to help me, so worried I wouldn’t make it through the night.
Everytime I woke up, I had to figure if I was alive, if I was dead, If I was in my own body… Makes me nauseous just thinking about it. My life force would be so thin that it felt that if I sneezed that would be enough to cut the little tiny thread of life I had left.
I worked really hard pushing all these memories away as the anxiety would send me into dissociation. This act of supreme cognitive dissonance is also what keeps my memories hidden away.
These dreams stopped when I was 12 or so, after I asked God to kill me as I could not take my life as the way it was. I was dead serious and when God didn’t kill me, I felt invited “here” for the first time.
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There are few other people I’ve heard this happening to, and I still am unsure of their purpose.
Part of me wonders, if these people that died were the other host bodies of the inter dimensional being that is connected to me and I am somehow a storage unit so that the inter dimensional can “keep” these experiences in my own subconscious. Similar to what some people experience with the greys downloading memories and knowledge into abductees.
Maybe “they” were working on some way of remotely killing people by tying their astral bodies to people that were actually dying. Maybe I was suffering from sleep apnea. I just never woke up out of breath. It was more like spread too thin over time and space, like I was barely present.
I’ve also theorized these are synthetic experiences that whomever has access to my spirit used to get me to dissociate. The blackness being the portal they suck your spirit through to do god knows what with you. (put you in a clone body, etc)
If you have gone through similar experiences, please email me at tegcassiel@gmail.com with your theories or experiences. Thank you.