Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.

In nightmares we can think the worst. That's what they're for, I guess.

Mary awoke from her nightmare with a pounding heart, convinced that she had only imagined Elizabeth's cruel plot. A full moon was shining into her chamber, illuminating everything around her in silvery light. That was when she noticed for the first time that there were bars on her window.

If you can think of anything more terrifying than that happening to you in the middle of the night, then let's hear about it.

I still get nightmares. In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I'm not. No one ever really gets used to nightmares.

Thus fortified I might take my rest in peace. But dreams come through stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their persons make their exists and their entrances as they please, and laugh at locksmiths.