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I'm lying in bed with my eyes closed. It could be a forgotten portion of a dream and I am in fact remember my wakeful vision of my closed eyelids, but I digress. As I lie there, I feel very groggy, as if I were just waking up. Often when I awaken from anything other than a short nap, I'm disoriented for no less than several minutes and struggle with standing/walking for as much as 10-15. Somehow, though, I'm fully conscious when I feel a sudden shift. Someone climbs into bed with me, and while at first this doesn't seem all that strange to me, though it should, I merely assume that it's someone I know. In my state of mind during the dream, I assume it's just someone I'm close too, though I don't have a particular person in mind.

As two edges of the bed are inaccessible - the head and one side are pressed firmly into the corner of my bedroom - whoever is climbing up my substantial wooden bedframe is essentially crawling directly over me. While originally lying on my right side, I roll onto my back. At this point in the dream, my vision begins as I open my eyes, or alternatively, enter R.E.M. sleep. I'm not entirely sure which. I can feel someone straddling my pelvis, effectively sitting on my lap as I lie back. I feel the shape of the body and a pair of legs running beside my own. I can't feel any other specific textures. I sometimes sleep full clothed - jeans, pants, and basically everything but shoes or boots - and at minimum I strip down as far as socks, underwear and an undershirt, but never more than that.

Typically, this scenario would be rather enjoyable under slightly different circumstances, but as I turn my eyes and look down, I see an anthropomorphic, canine female. Entirely nude and with a rather pleasant figure, I'm horrified by her otherwise hellish appearance. With stringy gray fur matted with what can only be described as someone's blood on her ankles, hands, and sprayed across her toned belly and breasts, she glares at me with sickly looking, jade green eyes. Imagine if a female Khajiit became a werewolf, but retained the proportions of their humanesque bodies and head. With a long snout filled with razor sharp teeth, which are both discolored and blood soaked, she snarls and leans closer. I hate to admit that in some ways, she reminds me of my actual dog, my solid white husky, Kira.

The vicious female grabs my shirt near the collar, her long, curved, black claws poking through my clothes and jabbing painfully into my chest. I can feel blood oozing from the wounds as she penetrates my skin, leaning ever closer. The fear is palpable, and I reach a hand, frantically grabbing for the loaded pistol that often resides beside me or beneath my pillow. Noticing my motions, she almost roars as a hand swiftly pins my wrist to the mattress with an incredible strength. With a body that's more akin to a slender, barely athletic female of at or below 5'6" tall and 110 pounds, I'm even more horrified by her capabilities. I wonder if she's some kind of monster or demon as her eyes seem to glow with a terrible rage.

"Who are you?" I somehow manage to speak.

She doesn't answer, merely cocking her head. She leans even closer, now at such an extreme angle that she needs to outstretch her legs in order to retain any level of comfort. Now effectively lying atop me, I feel her breasts smooshing against my chest. It's as if the monstrous creature is attempting to imitate some sort of erotic scene for her own benefit. I twist my wrist, my hand struggling for the gun. Beside me is the newest addition to my collection, a standard black Beretta 92FS. I can feel her icy cold nose poking my neck and my heart thumps almost painfully; I'm immediately fearful of her biting me. She sniffs me rather curiously, her head moving over mine. I can actually smell the metallic scent of her bloody fur, a scent that I am sadly very familiar with from multiple incidents in my past.

As it always had, the pungent odor makes my stomach churn. With my head turned away, more or less to allow me to breathe marginally higher quality oxygen, she notices the direction of my head and sees the gun. Shifting from a state that was horrifically erotic, and to one of violent fury, she takes her hand from my chest and grips my throat instead. With her palm over my throat and her claws digging into the flesh beside either major artery, she pushes against me like I were an inanimate block of wood and lifts herself up, growling like a wolf.

“Bad." She snarls.

Her voice is eerie; not unfeminine, but with a strange, guttural, raspiness that chills my blood.

"I wasn't." I choke out, gasping for air.

"You were." She says, her terrible eyes narrowing.

"Who are you?" I ask again.

"You know..." She says, bearing her teeth.

I genuinely have no idea who she is or what she wants with me, but she seems to think that I do. That actually frightens me even more; she's expectant and I have absolutely no idea what to do to placate her. Drawing in her legs, she sits down atop my lap yet again. In another disturbing moment of horror fused with eroticism, she grinds her bare groin against my black jeans. I can see her pawlike feet as she adjusts herself, covered in a thick crust of what was muck of some kind, as though she came out of a swamp some time earlier. Chunks of fetid matter break off onto my deep purple bedsheet. With her hand on my wrist, she yanks it above my head and slams it painfully into the large, wooden headboard above me. I wince in pain as I lie there defenseless. Her hand on my throat squeezes and she appears to take visible glee in my suffering.

"Please... I can't breathe!"

"You don't need to breathe." She replies.

I glance down, unsure of what she means. She leans in, the front of her bloody maw nuzzling my cheek. It's as though she desires to plant a kiss on me, but is failing. It's then that I notice how icy cold she is. Somehow, her palms warmed to my flesh quickly, and with my clothes on, I simply didn't realize the temperature of her groin, legs, belly, etc. My horror skyrockets as I realize that the awful stench isn't just the half-dried blood that clearly isn't hers; she has no visible injuries. The smell must be her actual body; the wolfess is undead.

"What do you want?" I ask in a growing panic.

"My mate."

"The fucks that have to do with me?! I don't know you!" I plead.

"You're mine now, and I'll have you."

She begins to strangle me, the most horrific look of satisfaction on her face. It's as though she decided that I was the one she wanted and was excited that I'd soon be dead, so that I could be her new zombie boyfriend. As my vision fades to black, something that I experienced as a young child when I choked nearly to death on a piece of hard candy, I wake up, still wearing my clothes, alone in my room and drenched in sweat.

Note: As a result of this dream, however disturbing it was, I immediately put on the 1989 film Pet Sematary and speed wrote two poems about death, one of which attempts to explain the plot of the film and the trope "Came back wrong". I'll post those once I can return to sleep and feel refreshed.

Monster Veil: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1419779