dreamstatetapes

[dreamstatetapes]

Perivisophobia - the fear that something is always watching, just outside your field of vision.

A Dreamstate Recording

transcript recovered from Tape #047 – subject unknown

[tape clicks, shuffling around]

Okay, so Megan is gonna make fun of me for doing this, but I had to get it out. I don’t know if I’m going crazy or if something’s just wrong. Here in this house, specifically.

God, I don’t know why I’m doing this at night. i could have just - okay.

[speaker laughs]

I moved in last week, last Tuesday. It’s a small house, kind of creaky, not haunted-looking, just kind of old, but normal. And ever since the first night, I felt weird, I guess. Like someone’s watching. Not all the time, just in the bedroom, most specifically when I’m changing in front of the mirror.

The mirror came with the house. It looks like it’s attached to the wall and it’s bigger than me so I’ve never even thought about removing it. There is no way I’d be able to get it outside by myself.

I know, it sounds like classic horror movie shit, but I swear, the light in my bedroom flickers when I start undressing, and the mirror is facing my bed. I usually get dressed by my bed, so I just feel like something in the mirror can see me - I know I sound crazy. But it’s only when I’m in front of that mirror.

My friend Megan does ghost hunting stuff, like legit gear and everything, and she says that tape recorders pick up more than phones do - something about frequencies. I don’t own one, obviously. It’s 2017. I don’t just casually have a tape recorder.

[brief laugh]

But then yesterday, I decided I was gonna buy one. I didn’t even really want to, I just felt like I had to. I don’t know. I found this one in the second-hand shop down the street. It’s real old school. I didn’t even know they look like this.

Anyway, I also noticed that sometimes it smells like something died. Not all the time and not everywhere, but sometimes if I get close to the mirror, it smells like a dead mouse or something. At first, I thought it really was a dead mouse, but the smell only lasts a couple of minutes, and it’s not constantly there, so it couldn’t be that. Megan said that demons smell like… I think she said dead animals. I don’t remember. Something about demons smelling bad.

Everything else outside of the house has been fine, except a couple of times, I thought I smelled that same smell on my clothes or something. It only happened twice, but it was still weird. I shower every day, so I don’t know.

I’ve never really tried to cover up or move the mirror, but I’m starting to think maybe I should try to take it off the wall, just to see if I can at least turn it around. I just figured I would do it while I’m recording in case I get possessed or something. Maybe you’ll get lucky and hear demon noises.

[speaker laughs]

Okay, I’m just gonna try to see if it budges. Huh. Okay. It actually moves a little if you -

[loud crash, heavy object hits the ground, followed by glass shattering]

[sharp gasp, loud scream, scrambling sounds, rapid movement]

[tape jostling against clothing, unintelligible muffled talking]

[running footsteps for 28 seconds]

[car door slams, engine starts, more scrambling noises]

It was right fucking there behind the mirror. It wasn’t a wall. There’s no wall there. There’s just a space, like, behind it. Oh my god.

[speaker crying]

And it was crouched, like curled up in the corner on the floor. I don’t know how. Oh my god. It looked like a person, but it wasn’t a person. I don’t know. It was like someone… burned holes into its face, and the skin was like… Oh my god. I don’t know. The skin was like candle wax, and hair, and meat, and -

[tires screech sharply in the background]

Shit, my headlights. What? Fuck.

Shit, I can’t see -

[loud crash, glass breaking, loud thud, tires squeal]

[car horn blares in distance - continuous]

[silence for 19 seconds]

[tape ends]

[dreamstatetapes]

Hypostasiophobia - the fear that the world around you is only a surface — that something deeper, hidden, and irreversible lies beneath it.

A DreamState Recording

transcript recovered from Tape #011 - subject unknown

⸻

Okay. So. I don’t usually do this kind of thing, I don’t even remember buying a tape recorder, but I read somewhere that talking things out helps your brain… contextualize. Or whatever.

Anyway.

It started Monday morning. I woke up kind of slow, like that foggy feeling I get sometimes after drinking. I didn’t even really remember going to bed. Last thing I remember was sitting in the booth with Audrey and James, having my last drink, laughing about - whatever. I don’t know. It felt normal.

So I got up, showered, got dressed for work. Same thing I always do. Except when I got to the office building, my keycard didn’t work.

Like, it lit up red, you know? Not even the yellow “try again” flash. Just full denial. I thought maybe I was at the wrong entrance, or the card reader was broken, or I don’t know, maybe I spilled something on it.

I stood there for a while, just kind of… dumbly waving it. A few people walked past me on the sidewalk but no one made eye contact. Not in a weird way, just… not at all.

So then I start spiraling, right? I’m thinking, did I drunk-call my boss last night? Did I get fired and forget? Did I show up after being told not to?

I called him. No answer.

I called my coworker Maya. She picked up, but all I heard was this little pause. Then:

“…Hello?”

I said, “Hey, it’s me, are you in the office?”

She didn’t respond. Just a long silence. Then she hung up.

At that point I was like, okay, maybe I did do something. Maybe I’m just in trouble. Or maybe they’re messing with me. Or maybe I’m still drunk. I don’t know.

I walked home. I don’t remember the walk really, just… getting there. My apartment felt normal. A little cold. My tea kettle was on the counter but when I touched it, it wasn’t warm. I don’t know why I noticed that. But nothing seemed out of place.

Anyway, I checked my texts. Nothing new. I sent my sister Audrey a message, just a little “Hey, are you mad at me?” kind of thing, and she didn’t read it. Which was weird, because she’s usually glued to her phone.

I watched TV for a while. Tried to nap. My phone didn’t buzz once.

And then it was night.

The clock said 8:43. I remember because that’s when I gave up and put on pajamas. But when I woke up the next morning, it still said 8:43. I thought maybe the batteries were dead. But it’s a plug-in clock. So.

Today’s been more of the same. I went outside for a bit, just to walk, to try to clear my head. It was bright, but not warm. No breeze. I tried to buy coffee but the barista never even looked at me. I waited in line, said “Hi,” and she just helped the guy behind me.

I walked home again. Sat in the window for a while. My phone still hadn’t buzzed. Nothing had changed.

Hold on—

My sister’s calling me.

[brief pause]

Hello? Hello??

It -

It won’t let me answer.

I’m tapping it.

It’s not working.

Audrey?

Hold on.

Shit.

Okay. It went to voicemail. I’m just - I’m gonna -

[speaker sets recorder down]

“Hey.

I don’t know if this voicemail still works. They gave me your phone back yesterday and it was still charged so…

I just wanted to try one last time.

I keep thinking about your voice. The way you’d tell me I was overreacting.

I hope it was fast. They said it was. That you probably didn’t even feel it.

But I don’t believe that. I think you were scared.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

They’re releasing your body on Friday.

I’ll be there. I promise.

I miss you already.”

[long silence]

Okay. I mean I…

That doesn’t make any sense.

Why would she say that? That’s not funny.

I think I’m going to lie down.

No, I’m gonna take a ride over to her house. Just to… see what that was about. I just -

[brief pause, footsteps, shifting fabric]

Hold on.

My door is like… stuck?

It’s not -

It’s not opening.

[brief silence. deep breath]

Why can’t I leave? Just let me leave -

I don’t -

[tape ends]

[dreamstatetapes]

Floraptophobia - the fear of delicate, beautiful, or seemingly harmless things appearing in eerie, lifeless, or abandoned spaces.

A DreamState Recording

transcript recovered from Tape #009 - subject unknown

—

Alright. Uh… it’s recording. I found a tape recorder. Never used one before.

Okay, so this is… I guess this is my report on the house. The burned up one in the woods off of Stillwater Drive. You can’t really see it unless you’re trying to. Which I wasn’t. I was out there with my camera. Just trying to get some urban decay shots. Nothing special.

I saw the curtains first. That’s what caught my eye. Everything else was torched and rotting and just… sad. You know? Still intact but… the roof was breaking, black walls, collapsed beams, even the mailbox was bent like someone punched it. But on the second floor, there was this window, and the curtains were just perfect. Like white linen. Clean. Clean in a way that didn’t match the rest of the world around it.

So I went in.

[soft humming in background, gravel crunching faintly]

It was just me. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, which - yeah. I know I should have.

Anyway. I got inside and climbed the staircase, which I honestly thought would collapse under me, but it didn’t. The window with the curtains was at the very end of the hall. The hallway felt longer than it looked from outside. I remember that really clearly. And right under the window, like dead center in the rubble, there was a flower growing.

A single flower. White petals. Yellow center. Looked fake at first. Like someone stuck it there as a joke. But it was real. I touched it. The dirt was packed around it and dry.

I pulled out my camera to take a photo and -

[brief pause]

I don’t know what happened. The flash went off and the picture just, like glitched. Like the shutter stuck or something. And in the flash, I swear to god, I saw a figure behind the curtain.

Not in front of it. Behind it. I thought maybe it was a trick of the light or like - I don’t know. My reflection or something? But I looked. I lifted the curtain.

Nobody there. No one could’ve stood behind it either, unless they were floating. That window was two stories up and there was nothing but air behind it.

And then I heard it.

This soft humming. Like a woman’s voice. It was coming from behind me, I think. Or, maybe it was upstairs. But there wasn’t another floor.

I called out. I said, “Hello? Is someone there?” But no one answered. The humming stopped right after I said it. I didn’t hear it again. I looked back out the window to calm myself, and that’s when I noticed it.

Another flower. The same exact kind. Right outside, lined up directly across from the first one. Growing out of the dead grass in the yard. There were no others anywhere. Just those two. Like they were mirroring each other.

I went outside to check. I - I know I shouldn’t have, but I needed to see if it was real.

The second flower was there. But the weird thing was that the ground around it was scorched. Black and cracked. No trees or bushes or vines. Just that flower.

And I felt something. Not like - danger. Not even like I was being watched. Just this pressure. Like I had walked into someone’s memory by accident.

[pause, deep breath]

I went home. I didn’t take either flower. Didn’t take anything.

But since then… I keep seeing them. The same kind of flower. One at a time. In random places. In the crack by the edge of my bathroom tile. In the grocery store parking lot. On the floor next to my bed. Always just one. Always pristine. White petals. Yellow center.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I hear the humming.

And every time I see one, I feel a little more like I need to go back. Like there’s something waiting for me behind that curtain. Like I left something there.

I don’t think it wants me to come back. I think it’s just waiting to see how long I can stay away.

[long silence]

Anyway, I have to go now. I don’t remember how I ended up back at the house but - I have to go inside now. Okay…bye.

—

[dreamstatetapes]

Circularaphobia - the deep, paralyzing fear of becoming trapped within a repeating pattern, whether physical, temporal, or psychological, with no visible end or escape.

a DreamState Recording

transcript recovered from Tape #014 – subject unknown

—

Okay. If someone finds this… I was working temp in Records. Sixth floor. Just some basic data entry. I wasn’t even supposed to be in the building that day.

The main elevator was broken so I used the side one. I know they tell you not to but no one was there so I just did it anyway.

I got in and saw a button for Floor 14. We don’t have a Floor 14. Our building only goes to 12. But the button lit up when I pressed it.

The elevator went up really slow. Like, one floor at a time, but slower than usual. It felt like it was thinking.

[speaker pauses to breathe]

When the doors opened, I walked out into this hallway. It looked normal at first. Gray carpet. Fluorescent lights. Cubicles. Same smell as the rest of the building, that warm electronic plastic smell from too many computers running.

Okay so, I started walking. Took a right. Then another hallway. I think I turned left. I don’t know.

At some point, I ended up right back where I started. I’m sure of it. I hadn’t turned around. I swear. I just walked straight and somehow I was back at the beginning.

[unintelligible sound in background]

I kept trying different paths but it didn’t matter. Every time I turned a corner, it would just lead back to the same hallway.

The same copier. The same blue stapler. The same fucking flickering light panel above the same cubicle.

Then I heard typing. Just soft little clicks. Like someone was working. So I followed the sound and found a tape recorder sitting on a desk. There were two, actually. I’m recording on one of them now. They’re like, those old cassette kinds with yellowing plastic.

It was already playing. And it was my voice.

I was talking about exactly what had just happened. Word for word. Stuff like, “I walked into a basic hallway with gray carpet and fluorescent lights. I kept walking but the hallway looped me back to the beginning.”

Then the voice said, “There’s a figure watching me now. I don’t want to look at it.”

I turned around. I didn’t see anything.

But when I looked back, the tape recorder was gone. I could still hear it playing. Just… somewhere else that I can’t see.

Now there’s something in the corner of the ceiling tiles. Not a person. Not even a shadow. t’s like static in the air. Like the space around it is vibrating just a little too much. The light doesn’t sit right when it’s near. You wouldn’t even notice it unless you stared too long. It’s almost transparent. And… and it doesn’t move. It just watches.

I think it’s getting closer. Sometimes I can tell where it went by listening for a scratching behind the walls. I really get scared when I feel it scratching the floor beneath my feet. Like it’s underneath me somehow.

The halls are looping tighter now. The typing never stops. I hear it even when I know no one is there.

And the tape is still playing. Still narrating. It starts talking about things I haven’t done yet. I think I’m catching up to it.

I don’t know what happens when I do.

If anyone finds this, or can hear me at all, I am still on the 14th floor. Please find me.

—

[dreamstatetapes]

i collect vintage media. polaroids, home videos, undeveloped film, cassette tapes. it started as a nostalgia thing, but it’s kind of become a hobby.

a few weeks ago, i stopped at a thrift store that i don’t usually go to in gardner, massachusetts. i wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but tucked in the back, i found a medium-sized cardboard box full of cassette tapes. most of them were loose; they all said ‘DREAMSTATE’. no dates or names, etc.

i picked them up along with a cheap cassette player they had behind the counter. the whole thing cost me under 20 bucks.

i didn’t notice the letter until i got home. it was folded up flat at the bottom of the box. here’s what it said:

“There is something about analog that holds memory better.

The tapes in this box were not made the usual way. I don’t know where they all came from. Some appear on my doorstep. Others I’ve found buried in walls or left in the backseat of my car. Once, I pulled one from the mouth of a dead deer on the side of Route 19.

When you play them, you might hear a voice or a story, or a sound that no one alive should remember or hear.

I don’t think these people are lying. I don’t think they’re actors or pranksters or ghosts. I think they just went somewhere they shouldn’t have. I believe that these tapes are all that came back.

Do not destroy originals.”

i’ve only listened to a few of them so far. they’re not music. they’re…something else. they’re people talking. just narrating things, but not like a journal. more like they’re describing something as it’s happening to them. some of them sound confused, and they talk about things that don’t feel right. hallways that looped. rooms that moved. people that weren’t people. i’m going to start posting transcripts here in case someone recognizes a story and can tell me where they came from. i am unable to record them, no audio comes through when i film. i keep dreaming of them.

more soon.