May 25, 2025 • 10 mins
Dream research assistant needed. Quiet night work. High pay. Must be discreet.
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📹 Video!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1uoDSnCuqg
📖 Read Along!: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1kherme/i_record_dreams_for_living/
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🖋️ The Author: https://www.reddit.com/user/Willing_Procedure_34/submitted/
📹 Video!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1uoDSnCuqg
📖 Read Along!: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1kherme/i_record_dreams_for_living/
Check out my new books! A collection of Creepypasta compiled by some of my all time favorite authors and friends!
💀 Volume 1: http://a.co/iNqTwRZ
💀 Volume 2: http://a.co/i0O9zks
💀 Comic Book: http://a.co/2POGdNW
🧊 Chill with the Community!: https://www.thechillingapp.com/
Visit the stores!
🍵 Wife's Tea Shop: https://etsy.com/shop/IvoryMonocleTea
👕 Shirts & Stuff!: https://shop.spreadshirt.com/MrCreepyPasta/
💰 Patreon (Only if you want to kids!): https://www.patreon.com/MrCreepyPasta
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/mrcreepypasta-s-storytime--4244348/support.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
Three months ago, I got a job offer from a
company I'd never heard of. No interview, no background checked,
just an email. Dream research assistant needed quiet night work,
high pay, must be discreet. I thought it was a scam,
but I clicked it anyway, and I was two months
behind on rent and tired of grinding delivery apps and
(00:25):
night shifts at a gas station. Two days later, I
was standing in a windowless room at the back of
a warehouse on the edge of town reading a non
disclosure agreement that might as well have been written in blood.
You will not share any details about the work, equipment
or subjects. Any breach will be met with legal and
(00:47):
appropriate consequences. I signed it. They shouldn't have. The room
I worked in had two chairs, two monitors, and one machine,
a dome shaped thing about the size of a watermelon,
(01:08):
covered in metallic wires and nodes. The label read MIMRR
Neural Sync Unit. They said that it could interface with
RAM wave activity to let us observe and catalog dream
visuals in real time. I didn't ask how it worked.
(01:29):
I just did what they told me. Every night, from
eleven PM to five am, I came in, put on
the headset, and watched people's dreams play out like grainy,
half finished films. My job was to log what I saw, tags, colors, symbols, emotions, distortions.
(01:53):
Most of them were forgettable, bizarre, disconnected messes, like the
mind dumping its trash into the subconscious. I watched a
woman relive her wedding as a loop where her groom's
face kept changing into her dead dog. A man had
(02:17):
a recurring dream about drowning and cereal. One guy just
sat in a red chair in an endless desert for
six hours. I didn't care. I just tagged and logged.
The pay was good, The work was quiet until shift
(02:39):
twenty seven that night. The dream opened with a man
walking through a long white hallway. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
He wore a dark hoodie. I couldn't see his face.
Steps echoed. The hallway had doors, each with numbers Room eleven,
(03:04):
from twelve, room thirteen. He stopped at room sixteen. He
opened the door and stepped inside, and I felt cold.
(03:26):
I wasn't just watching anymore. It felt like I was
in it, like my thoughts had shifted into his. The
room inside was familiar, too, familiar, cracked, white, walls, humming
mini fridge, a ceiling fan with a broken blade, a
desk with an old laptop, and a blue chair. My
(03:50):
room down to the scratch on the window frame, and
the photo of me and my sister at the carnival.
This was my apartment, the one I lived in. Right
now on the desk was my journal, the the one
I kept locked in the dream. The man opened it.
(04:17):
One line was written over and over in a shaky
block lettering, they're watching you two. I ripped off the headset,
hit the emergency alert button, first time I ever used it.
(04:37):
No one came. The next day, I demanded answers. I
found doctor Calder, the lead researcher. What the hell was
that last dream? I asked him? That was my apartment,
that journal that I've never shown anyone that. She didn't
blink id number six one sixty. I said, who is that?
(05:01):
She stared at me for a long time, then said, calmly,
you were told not to ask questions. But that's me,
isn't it? On the subject? You've been watching me? A pause,
(05:22):
a smile. No, she said, you're just the receiver. Then
she walked away. After that, things got worse. The dreams
weren't random anymore. They all started in the hallway that
(05:42):
the same man, the same doors, Room seventeen, Room eighteen,
Room nineteen. Every night he'd open the next door, and
each time it was another place from my past. The
classroom where I wet my pants in first grade, the
church basement where I found my uncle passed out drunk,
my sister's old bedroom the night of the accident. Sometimes
(06:09):
he just stood there and stared. Other times he'd whisper things.
Once he looked directly into the dream feed and said,
why did you lie? I stopped sleeping. I'd go home,
(06:29):
lie in bed and feel like I was still being watched.
The black van across the street, the flicker of the
hallway camera, even though no one passed. I started having
dreams outside of the lab. Dreams had felt like the
ones I saw at work, same angle, same man, except
(06:50):
now I wasn't sure who was dreaming whom. Then came
shift forty two. The hallway ended, no more doors. The
man stood at the last one, Room twenty three. Inside
(07:13):
it was pitch black. For a long time. He just
stood there, and then he stepped in and the feed
went dead. The message appeared on the screen the mirror
sync terminated accessing deep core files. Another screen popped up
a split feed. One on the left, a live camera
(07:34):
view the break room where I sat on lunch twenty
minutes ago. On the right, an old video, grainy, black
and white footage. I was watching myself, sleeping years younger.
(07:57):
Electrodes on my head. Someone whispering to me off camera,
you're going to forget this. It's better if you forget.
Speaker 2 (08:07):
I threw off the headset, ran down the hall. The
door I thought let outside was gone. In its place
a white hallway with numbered doors. Room one, Room two,
(08:28):
Room three. I don't know how long I've been here.
Now some nights I think I've escaped. I wake up
in my bed. The world looks normal until I spot
the man in the hoodie across the street. Until I
turn on my phone and see a recording of my
dream from the night before. I think the job was
(08:51):
never real. I think I never left the lab, and
maybe I never applied in the first place. I just
wanted a paycheck. What I got was a front row
seat to my own breakdown. And if anyone's reading this,
(09:12):
if this shows up on your feed, ask yourself, when
was the last time you really woke up, because I'm
starting to think that some of us, some of us
are still dreaming.
Speaker 1 (09:40):
Either kids.
Speaker 3 (09:41):
It's me, mister Kreepasta, and I just wanted to tell
you thank you so much for watching tonight's video or
for listening to tonight's episode of the podcast. It's a
brand new year, which means a brand new time for content.
We're doing our best to bring you the newest things.
Speaker 1 (09:53):
I know.
Speaker 3 (09:53):
In twenty twenty four, I had released less videos than
I ever had any year in the last fourteen years.
But hey, as things start to piece themselves back together,
so do I. So I will be seeing you guys
a bit more in this year, I promise you. And
as always, I want to give a very big thank
you to everybody who supports me over at Patreons patreon
(10:14):
dot com slash mister Creepypasta. I cannot thank you guys enough.
Thank you guys so much for being supporters. That goes
for everybody who is down in the description, as well
as Acid System, Ball Arms, The rapt Blake, Rattler, Randon Mendoza,
Brinna Crow, Brimstone, Pannemonium, Caltuna, Shaysmokeer, Dealer, Chicago hit Man,
Coreykench Crown Up, five Away, Crusader, joke about Kurs Pocks,
Primark to go to best, thank of Poulson, Don't take
kN Kaid, Dyna Krauss, Ellie Hotmeyer and Chanted Buns, Esteban
(10:35):
Jellahalsey Hay, his nephew, Himo Jerry However a minute second time,
Jay Kems, Jennis Pat Jordan, Humble, Kink Crab, Mister Marcus Splitz,
Old Penguin, Peaceful Buddhah, Cycle, mol Red shadow Cat, Remember
the Sun, Rinku Star Salty Surprise, Samara Line Seclude Simba's Buddy,
Mojo Sky Harper, Smile a psychotic Sully Man, Tully Sue,
the Shabaz Brothers. Thank you guys so much for being here,
thank you for listening, thank you for watching, and sweet
your hands
Three months ago, I got a job offer from a
company I'd never heard of. No interview, no background checked,
just an email. Dream research assistant needed quiet night work,
high pay, must be discreet. I thought it was a scam,
but I clicked it anyway, and I was two months
behind on rent and tired of grinding delivery apps and
(00:25):
night shifts at a gas station. Two days later, I
was standing in a windowless room at the back of
a warehouse on the edge of town reading a non
disclosure agreement that might as well have been written in blood.
You will not share any details about the work, equipment
or subjects. Any breach will be met with legal and
(00:47):
appropriate consequences. I signed it. They shouldn't have. The room
I worked in had two chairs, two monitors, and one machine,
a dome shaped thing about the size of a watermelon,
(01:08):
covered in metallic wires and nodes. The label read MIMRR
Neural Sync Unit. They said that it could interface with
RAM wave activity to let us observe and catalog dream
visuals in real time. I didn't ask how it worked.
(01:29):
I just did what they told me. Every night, from
eleven PM to five am, I came in, put on
the headset, and watched people's dreams play out like grainy,
half finished films. My job was to log what I saw, tags, colors, symbols, emotions, distortions.
(01:53):
Most of them were forgettable, bizarre, disconnected messes, like the
mind dumping its trash into the subconscious. I watched a
woman relive her wedding as a loop where her groom's
face kept changing into her dead dog. A man had
(02:17):
a recurring dream about drowning and cereal. One guy just
sat in a red chair in an endless desert for
six hours. I didn't care. I just tagged and logged.
The pay was good, The work was quiet until shift
(02:39):
twenty seven that night. The dream opened with a man
walking through a long white hallway. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
He wore a dark hoodie. I couldn't see his face.
Steps echoed. The hallway had doors, each with numbers Room eleven,
(03:04):
from twelve, room thirteen. He stopped at room sixteen. He
opened the door and stepped inside, and I felt cold.
(03:26):
I wasn't just watching anymore. It felt like I was
in it, like my thoughts had shifted into his. The
room inside was familiar, too, familiar, cracked, white, walls, humming
mini fridge, a ceiling fan with a broken blade, a
desk with an old laptop, and a blue chair. My
(03:50):
room down to the scratch on the window frame, and
the photo of me and my sister at the carnival.
This was my apartment, the one I lived in. Right
now on the desk was my journal, the the one
I kept locked in the dream. The man opened it.
(04:17):
One line was written over and over in a shaky
block lettering, they're watching you two. I ripped off the headset,
hit the emergency alert button, first time I ever used it.
(04:37):
No one came. The next day, I demanded answers. I
found doctor Calder, the lead researcher. What the hell was
that last dream? I asked him? That was my apartment,
that journal that I've never shown anyone that. She didn't
blink id number six one sixty. I said, who is that?
(05:01):
She stared at me for a long time, then said, calmly,
you were told not to ask questions. But that's me,
isn't it? On the subject? You've been watching me? A pause,
(05:22):
a smile. No, she said, you're just the receiver. Then
she walked away. After that, things got worse. The dreams
weren't random anymore. They all started in the hallway that
(05:42):
the same man, the same doors, Room seventeen, Room eighteen,
Room nineteen. Every night he'd open the next door, and
each time it was another place from my past. The
classroom where I wet my pants in first grade, the
church basement where I found my uncle passed out drunk,
my sister's old bedroom the night of the accident. Sometimes
(06:09):
he just stood there and stared. Other times he'd whisper things.
Once he looked directly into the dream feed and said,
why did you lie? I stopped sleeping. I'd go home,
(06:29):
lie in bed and feel like I was still being watched.
The black van across the street, the flicker of the
hallway camera, even though no one passed. I started having
dreams outside of the lab. Dreams had felt like the
ones I saw at work, same angle, same man, except
(06:50):
now I wasn't sure who was dreaming whom. Then came
shift forty two. The hallway ended, no more doors. The
man stood at the last one, Room twenty three. Inside
(07:13):
it was pitch black. For a long time. He just
stood there, and then he stepped in and the feed
went dead. The message appeared on the screen the mirror
sync terminated accessing deep core files. Another screen popped up
a split feed. One on the left, a live camera
(07:34):
view the break room where I sat on lunch twenty
minutes ago. On the right, an old video, grainy, black
and white footage. I was watching myself, sleeping years younger.
(07:57):
Electrodes on my head. Someone whispering to me off camera,
you're going to forget this. It's better if you forget.
Speaker 2 (08:07):
I threw off the headset, ran down the hall. The
door I thought let outside was gone. In its place
a white hallway with numbered doors. Room one, Room two,
(08:28):
Room three. I don't know how long I've been here.
Now some nights I think I've escaped. I wake up
in my bed. The world looks normal until I spot
the man in the hoodie across the street. Until I
turn on my phone and see a recording of my
dream from the night before. I think the job was
(08:51):
never real. I think I never left the lab, and
maybe I never applied in the first place. I just
wanted a paycheck. What I got was a front row
seat to my own breakdown. And if anyone's reading this,
(09:12):
if this shows up on your feed, ask yourself, when
was the last time you really woke up, because I'm
starting to think that some of us, some of us
are still dreaming.
Speaker 1 (09:40):
Either kids.
Speaker 3 (09:41):
It's me, mister Kreepasta, and I just wanted to tell
you thank you so much for watching tonight's video or
for listening to tonight's episode of the podcast. It's a
brand new year, which means a brand new time for content.
We're doing our best to bring you the newest things.
Speaker 1 (09:53):
I know.
Speaker 3 (09:53):
In twenty twenty four, I had released less videos than
I ever had any year in the last fourteen years.
But hey, as things start to piece themselves back together,
so do I. So I will be seeing you guys
a bit more in this year, I promise you. And
as always, I want to give a very big thank
you to everybody who supports me over at Patreons patreon
(10:14):
dot com slash mister Creepypasta. I cannot thank you guys enough.
Thank you guys so much for being supporters. That goes
for everybody who is down in the description, as well
as Acid System, Ball Arms, The rapt Blake, Rattler, Randon Mendoza,
Brinna Crow, Brimstone, Pannemonium, Caltuna, Shaysmokeer, Dealer, Chicago hit Man,
Coreykench Crown Up, five Away, Crusader, joke about Kurs Pocks,
Primark to go to best, thank of Poulson, Don't take
kN Kaid, Dyna Krauss, Ellie Hotmeyer and Chanted Buns, Esteban
(10:35):
Jellahalsey Hay, his nephew, Himo Jerry However a minute second time,
Jay Kems, Jennis Pat Jordan, Humble, Kink Crab, Mister Marcus Splitz,
Old Penguin, Peaceful Buddhah, Cycle, mol Red shadow Cat, Remember
the Sun, Rinku Star Salty Surprise, Samara Line Seclude Simba's Buddy,
Mojo Sky Harper, Smile a psychotic Sully Man, Tully Sue,
the Shabaz Brothers. Thank you guys so much for being here,
thank you for listening, thank you for watching, and sweet
your hands
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