スポンサーリンク
Saru Yume
*Rumor says that simply hearing the tale of Saru Yume makes you dream the same dream. It’s one of Japan’s “do-not-search” words. Read at your own risk.*
9 Name: Anonymous Posted: 2000/08/02 (Wed) 07:03
I was having a dream.
Since childhood I’ve sometimes realized mid-dream that I’m dreaming. This was one of those times.
For some reason I was alone on a dim, deserted station platform.
“What a gloomy dream,” I thought.
Suddenly a lifeless male voice came over the PA:
“Attention, the train is arriving. If you board, you’ll have a terrifying experience …”
A moment later a train pulled in—not a real train, more like the kiddie monkey-train you see in old amusement parks.
Several men and women, deathly pale, sat in a row.
I decided to ride. I wanted to see how far my own dream could scare me; if it got unbearable I would simply wake myself—because when I’m lucid I can force-quit the dream at will.
12 Anonymous Posted: 2000/08/02 (Wed) 07:09
I sat in the third seat from the rear. The air was warm and stifling—so real I questioned whether it was truly a dream.
“We are departing,” droned the voice, and the train rolled out. Heart pounding with fear and curiosity, I watched the tunnel swallow us. Violet light bathed the walls—exactly like the “thriller car” ride I rode as a kid.
“So this dream is just recycling old memories,” I thought. “Nothing scary.”
Then the PA: “Next stop: **Ikedzukuri**—Live Sashimi.”
*Ikedzukuri? Like carving a live fish?*
A blood-curdling scream rang out behind me.
Four rag-wrapped dwarfs swarmed the man in the last seat. They slit him open like a fish, pulling out organs while he shrieked. The stench of blood and entrails filled the car.
A long-haired woman directly behind me stared forward, unfazed by the horror inches away.
Now I was truly scared. I decided to observe a bit longer, then wake up.
When I dared glance back, the man was gone—only a red-black heap remained.
The woman still faced forward, blank as stone.
“Next stop: **Eguri Dashi**—Eye Gouging.”
Two dwarfs appeared and, with jagged spoons, scooped out her eyes. Her blank face twisted into agony; she screamed loud enough to rupture eardrums. Eyeballs dangled on optic nerves; blood and sweat stank.
I bent forward, trembling. Surely my turn was next—third seat.
Curiosity itched: *What announcement will they use on me?* Then I’ll bail.
13 Anonymous Posted: 2000/08/02 (Wed) 07:11
“Next stop: **Hikiniku**—Ground Meat.”
Worst case confirmed. I focused, trying to wake. *Wake up, wake up, wake up…*
A motor whirred—*whiiin*—as a dwarf clambered onto my knees with some grinding device.
Face whipped by its air blast, I clenched my eyes and repeated, *Wake up, wake up…*
Just as the whine grew deafening, everything went silent.
I’d escaped. Drenched in sweat and tears, I stumbled to the kitchen and gulped water, chanting, “It was only a dream.”
Next day I told every friend at school. They only laughed—it was “just a dream.”
Four years passed; by university I’d forgotten it, busy with part-time jobs.
Then one night it resumed—starting right at “Next stop: Eguri Dashi.”
Panic. *Wake up, wake up…* No luck.
“Next stop: Hikiniku.”
*Whiiin*—the grinder neared. *Wake up, wake up, please…*
Silence again—escaped!
But just before opening my eyes I heard the PA, clear as day:
“Running again? Next time will be the last.”
I snapped awake in my room. That final line was no dream—I heard it in the real world.
Since then I haven’t had the dream, but I’m certain: if Saru Yume returns, I’ll die of heart failure—minced meat in their world, cardiac arrest in ours.
