What is a Quiet Nightmare? For some, it is about reliving
moments of horror in a helpless environment. What
can one do to battle a Quiet Nightmare, to escape its grip?
Thursday, March 4,
2004—Ground Zero Plus 904
GROUND ZER0, New York, N.Y.--Mar. 4, 2004 -- The nightmares had no
sound--they were muted images, void of the auditory dimension.
There is the
expression: "white noise" and then there is the "black noise,"
the absence of sound in a nightmare that suspends the horror of the
dream's reality by making it even more unreal, removing from it the
gravity of its illusion.
having "quiet nightmares"
been having those kinds of "quiet nightmares." They
suspend themselves just behind the eyes like a spider dangling on an
invisible thread, glaring at you hypnotically, freezing your muscles
There is little
doubt that the Beast of Terror uses different tools and systems to pry
into someone's soul who daily vows to fight him. It's like
challenging the neighborhood bully who then decides to lie awake at
night dreaming up ways to bully you just because you refuse, or vow to
not be bullied.
without sound are disturbing. I can see but cannot hear,
inhale but cannot exhale; I can cry out but the void muffles the plea.
are like spiders dangling on invisible threads
The Quiet Nightmares rule the night.
They come at
will, slipping into the mainstream of my somnolent silence as a
submarine sliding undetected along the coastline, its periscope spying
for the right moment and location to surface so that it can take the
shore by surprise, can startle those who think they are safe, and then
submerge into the abyss to prowl the deep dank depths of the mind's
ocean until it is ready to surface again.
Nightmares seem to explode into my thoughts as I sleep.
There is no warning. Suddenly, I am under attack, unable
to rush to a foxhole. The images explode around me,
blocking any escape even though I cannot move, covering the points of
the compass as though to remind me that if I could move, it wouldn't
I have been well
trained in hand-to-hand combat, but my hands are bound, stuck to my
sides, useless weights of flesh and bone that cannot lift themselves
defensively, let alone offensively. But the Beast of
Terror doesn't attack. He stalks. He moves
about me in the dream, exhaling Quiet Nightmares of scenes of death
and destruction. His death is the crippling of Courage by
Fear....the weakening of Conviction by Intimidation, and the dominance
of Complacency over Right Actions.
I am forced to
see the eyes of Terror but I will not surrender
I see the abuse of his victims through eyes that cannot blink or
squeeze shut to distance the illusion from the delusion.
I am forced to watch the bodies leap from the burning buildings; to
see the eyes of Terror frozen in Fear's cement as those about to die
fail their last moment of humanity and surrender to groveling for the
scraps of life rather than standing up to the scythe of death's
dulling blade with dignity.
I can see their
mouths twist into screams, and their eyes bulge as the blood of panic
rages behind their occipital nerves, as though they might freeze frame
the last vision of life before death's black shroud embalms them
I am glad I awake.
But then I remember that later I will have to sleep.
Despite it all, I take
the Vow of Vigilance. I will not surrender.
3--A Mother's Vigilance--My Baby's Not Dead!