When I was a wee child, from the ages of about six to eightish, I’d have these intense, very realistic nightmares. I’d awaken to a very tall man with wild hair, wearing a windbreaker standing over my bed. He’d be accompanied by a smell, not dissimilar to something that had half-way rotted and then dried out. I’d hide under the covers and close my eyes, and after a few minutes of cowering in fear, I’d fall asleep again.
This would happen at least once a week, most weeks it was four or five times. It hasn’t happened for years, I even forgot about the whole thing until last night–when it happened again.
I know it’s all in my head, but it’s still creepy and unpleasant.