At the risk of stating the obvious: I bloody well hate nightmares.
Whether it's being chased by werewolves or having my teeth fall out in front of me, the sense of realism of I feel every time (despite the absurdity of the scenario) gets to me.
This morning: I was watching what I thought was a grand fireworks display. Even climbed up my window to get a better view. Pretty lights and flashes. "Waitaminnut, are those bomber planes?" (Well, at first glance I didn't know what kind of planes they were. The fact that there were bombs attached underneath them just made me put two and two together.)
I realized it wasn't fireworks. I was in the middle of a war zone. Just then another bomber swooped down and dropped an iron teardrop in front of me. It seemed to take forever to hit the ground, because to my knowledge I was only two stories up. Now it seemed like I lived in the upper floors of a high rise apartment building. I even had time to get down from the window and steel myself for the impending boom.
When the bomb finally hit it was like how imagined it (literally, as this a nightmare): the floor beneath me collapsed, but I was pushed upward by a powerful force. Looking upwards I felt my entire body being burned, but the lack of pain made me think that since I'm at ground zero my vaporization was almost instantaneous but my mind played it it slow motion. It must have been over in less than a second but at the same time I thought wow, just like the car crash. No pain or panic. Facing death isn't as bad as I thought, particularly one by nuclear holocaust.
At that point I woke up. It was 3 in the morning. After taking a piss, for a few minutes I was actually afraid of going to sleep again, but eventually the tired body won over the scared mind.
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