Children across the planet exist in perpetual fear of sleep. There is a monster in the closet, under the bed and hidden beneath the pillows. But this monster has no horns. It has no long snout or blood soaked fangs. Its claws are metaphorical. Its lust for food, its hunger for satiation, is endless. Boundless. Feeding on their fears; rational and irrational.

When in the deepest slumber, between REM and deep sleep, it pounces like an ebony jaguar in a drought of terrible hunger. Poor, innocent souls, hoping to dream of playful things, are preyed upon by a being with relentless energy. A shadowy figure at the end of their bed frames, outlined in a shivering aura of cruelty.

It begins in the Astral Valley. A chase begins: each victim bottlenecked into a canyon and pursued until they cannot resist, or breathe another dreamy breath. Yet, this is not a bully chasing a small and fragile figure, it is hidden, spectral presence. A quiver under the skin, a pulsating in the veins like you are ready to rupture at any moment. And then it will surround and engulf. A mist of purple-black hues moves like paint down walls. And like sunlight, they are absorbed by a creature. Small and impish, no bigger than the child who was preyed upon. In fact the exact height and build of each and every victim it pursues. As fear is generated by the individual, so is The Dream Eater. Standing, silent, silohoutted and spotlighted in solitude.

…

Most parents believe their children cry out because of a bad dream. But if only they knew, that those beautiful memories of the day had been savagely feasted on by a creature indiscriminate and hungry.

Author note: I didn’t originally intend this story to be as dark as it became. Clearly, the mind is a strange and macabre thing. I’m simply going to attribute this to a childhood fascination with sleep monsters.