Candle Face Chronicles: Genesis of the Nightmares
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Time to read 3 min
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Time to read 3 min
Four nights after the interview, sleep turned into something else. Swirling colors, garbled voices, the fire and the lost boy replaying every time I closed my eyes. Mr. Doe's answer when I called: perhaps she's trying to tell you something.
November 4, 2023
Every night, once the house goes quiet, my sense of reality starts to come apart. It’s been four days since these strange, almost psychedelic states began, and each one feels like déjà vu I can’t shake. I’ve started to dread closing my eyes.
It all started quietly enough on the night after my interview with Mr. Doe. The way he described the house fire in 1969 and the little boy lost in the flames made me uncomfortable. Despite the room’s chill, I felt a strange warmth creeping in as he talked about Candle Face.
Afterward, my thoughts kept returning to the hole at the back of the empty lot, the one my friends and I dared each other to jump into as children. I had always associated Candle Face with that spot, perhaps because of the dreams I had after standing in it. Mr. Doe didn’t think anyone was buried there. He thought it might have been some kind of portal.
That night, I sensed a shift, as if his words had woken something up. As I lay in bed, the blackness behind my eyelids filled with swirling colors that shifted and pulsed. It felt like I was being shown something, or warned.
Then came the voices, a chaotic mix of shouting and screams. I couldn’t make out their words, but I could hear the anger and urgency in them. The sensation held me somewhere between waking and sleeping, weightless and on edge, as if I might drift away at any moment.
Each night since, the sequence has replayed. I jolt awake, heart pounding, only to face the same cycle when I try to sleep again. By day, I tell myself it’s stress or an overactive imagination, but deep down, I know these episodes are tied to Mr. Doe’s story.
By the fourth night, exhaustion had set in. I went through online forums looking for answers and came across “hypnagogic hallucinations,” vivid experiences between waking and sleeping. The descriptions fit, but they didn’t explain why the dreams started the night after I heard Mr. Doe’s story.
I kept replaying his words. He spoke of Candle Face with conviction, calling her a spirit who goes after people who don’t believe in her. Had his belief seeped into my subconscious and shaped these dreams?
I called Mr. Doe again. He was just as hard to reach this time, and when I finally got him, all he said was, “Maybe she’s trying to tell you something.” It wasn’t the reassurance I’d hoped for. If anything, it confirmed my fear that these dreams might be more than hallucinations. Years ago, I disturbed Candle Face by trespassing into her resting place. Could my renewed investigation have drawn her attention again?
Tonight, as I prepare for bed, I’m caught between wanting answers and dreading another sleepless night. I’ve taken to sleeping with a light on. If I can understand these nightly visits, maybe I can gain some control over them or stop them altogether.
I’m longing for a full night of sleep without these visions. The lost sleep is starting to show in my work and at home. It feels like the moment I started asking questions about Candle Face again, I pulled her back into my life, and now she won’t let go.
My military training taught me to run toward a threat. So I’m prepared to confront Candle Face. It’s frightening, but I won’t back down.
I know this could be a long road, with more nights of little or no sleep. Still, I’m committed. I hope that by facing whatever is behind these visions, I can finally sleep through the night again.