Forbidden Confessions of a Dream Walker - Part 1: Introduction and Childhood

I don't know if anyone will believe me.
Sometimes, even I don't believe myself.

My name doesn't matter. I'm not telling this to become some kind of hero, or to prove anything. I'm just here to tell you what happened to me, the way I lived it. As best as I can, anyway. Dreams are strange things — hard to hold onto. Some details stayed with me, sharp as broken glass. Others slipped away like smoke the moment I opened my eyes. But I’ll give you everything I can.

I am — or at least I was — a Dream Walker.

It started when I was very young. Night after night, something terrible came for me in my dreams. I called it the Hag. She wasn't just a nightmare — I could feel her hatred, her rage, her hunger. She would isolate me from my family, trapping me alone with her. She would scream at me, threaten me, try to wear me down. I think now that she was trying to break me — to make me give in to her somehow. Maybe to open myself to possession. Maybe to something worse.

I never gave in.

Sometimes I would curl up into a ball on the floor or press myself into a corner while she towered over me, shrieking.
Other times, I would just endure it, silent and shaking, waiting for the dream to end.
Always afraid. Always alone.

I told people a little about what was happening. But not much.
The Hag threatened me — told me she would hurt my family if I spoke out.
And she proved she could.
After one threat, my mother suffered a medical emergency so severe she was technically dead for a time on the operating table. I learned then that the Hag's reach wasn't limited to the dream world. She could touch the waking world, too.

I grew up afraid, living with a terror I couldn't explain. My only real goal as a child was simple:
Resist.
No matter what, resist.

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NEXT - Part 2: The Turning Point and Discovery of Powers