1. Hypnophobia

I must have been nine or ten years old at the time. Maybe I was only eight or already eleven, I can't remember exactly. Anyway, they came to me every night to torment me. The nightmares were so realistic that I usually woke up drenched in sweat and terrified of going back to sleep. Because as soon as I fell asleep, they were after me again. Back then, there were no zombies, at least not in my dreams. I didn't have to worry about crazy robots or evil artificial intelligence either. The only robot I knew at the time was from the West German children's TV series “Robbi, Tobbi und das Fliewatüüt” (a children's series about a boy, a robot, and a helicopter), and he was anything but scary. However, that wasn't necessarily an advantage, because there were still vampires, werewolves, and evil witches who haunted me night after night. Often it was Dracula himself who chased me through an old castle or fortress.

At full moon, I was wandering through his gloomy realm, far away from home. My dream had probably teleported me straight to Transylvania. Candlesticks stood on a huge table. The blood-red candles flickered as if they were about to go out at any moment. There was a fire burning in the open fireplace, but when I exhaled, the air condensed. The large reception hall was freezing cold. Theatrical organ music sounded from somewhere. Now I heard the creaking of heavy footsteps. Someone or something was slowly descending the huge staircase. Something evil was coming toward me. Of course, I wanted to run away, but I was so scared that I froze like a statue. Then I saw him! It was the top bloodsucker himself, slowly but surely coming toward me. I wanted to flee, but I still couldn't move. Wrapped in a deep black cloak, this count looked like a mixture of Christopher Lee, Bela Lugosi, and Klaus Kinski. No one helped me as Dracula effortlessly lifted me up and sank his fangs into my thin neck to drink my blood. I smelled his musty breath and felt very real pain as he bit down.

Then I woke up terrified and frantically turned on the night light. I was drenched in sweat and immediately grabbed my throat, which, absurdly, hurt. Next, I looked at my palms. Maybe I expected to see my own blood on them. But thank God there was nothing there. It was all just a dream. I wouldn't turn off the bedside lamp again. Because with the darkness, the ghosts would surely return. As soon as I closed my eyes, I saw the bloodsucker in front of