Time is running out and the submissions are rolling in. We want to know about the scariest nightmare you ever had. The person with the most terrifying tale wins five tickets to Six Flags Great Adventure. Don’t forget, you have until Wednesday, Oct. 19 (that's TOMORROW!) to tell us about the scariest nightmare you ever had! Here are the submissions that have made the cut over the last 24 hours.

Today's first nightmare comes from Lorraine in Stanhope. It plays out like a Tim Burton adaptation of Toy Story.

As a kid, I collected Trolls. You know, the little plastic figures with the slightly wicked grin, and brightly colored pointy hair. I would line up my trolls and read books to them. I also spent hours making little troll clothes out of felt and other materials, and beaded necklaces on a string to put around their necks. They were very snazzily dressed Trolls and I considered them my little friends. Until the night I had a nightmare about them. I was about 10 years old, and went to bed, my trolls all neatly tucked in the dresser drawer where I kept them all comfy cozy.

At some point during my innocent slumber, I began to hear faint banging sounds in my dream. The banging became louder and louder, and then I heard voices shouting menacingly "let us out, let us out." The banging intensified, and I could see from my bed that the drawer where the Trolls were kept was shaking and pushing open. Suddenly, out popped the Trolls, blood on their teeth and knives in their hands. Their eyes were wild, red - on fire. They started busting up the furniture and began placing the wood around the perimeter of my bed. I was peaking out under the covers, scared witless. One of the Trolls, apparently the leader of this murderous mob, flashed me an evil grin as I peaked out in terror. He reached behind his back, slowly pulled out a match, and proceeded to light the wood pile surrounding my bed on fire, shouting "dinner time!" The Trolls then began a frenzied sort of dancing, waving their knives fiendishly in the air. The flames started to grow, and I knew I was about to be cooked alive and eaten, but thankfully I awoke from this hell and ran to my mother for comfort.

I was so stricken with terror that I commanded my mother to get rid of the Trolls, and they disappeared, so I thought, for good. Years later I found them tucked away in a closet in a plastic bag. I have them stored away in my attic now, out of sight, but I can't bring myself to throw them out. They still kind of scare me a bit!

This nightmare comes from Al in Somerville.

I was working in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia in 1989. As my contract was about to end in July of that year, I was able to find another job and decided to go home to the Philippines for a short vacation and to see my family, particularly, my mother and fiance to plan our wedding and we decided to have it in December 1989. I went back to Kuala Lumpur in early August. Unfortunately, my mother suddenly at age 56, died less than 3 weeks later that same month. So I went back home again for her funeral and my father, who was working in Saudi Arabia at that time also came home.

My fiance and I had to postpone our wedding plans until after my mother's 1st death anniversary as customarily, it will be frowned upon if we pursue our plans for a December wedding. So I decided to invite her to visit me Kuala Lumpur in December and celebrate the Holidays there with me. My father and I stayed in the Philippines for another week before going back to our respective jobs.

December came and my fiance was in Kuala Lumpur with me in time for the holidays.

So one night as we were sleeping, I was having this dream that my mother was inviting me to come with her. For some reason, I was consciously aware of her being dead. I was close to my mom that you can call me a Mama's boy, and being aware that she's dead I was having second thoughts of going with her. But it seems like I won't hesitate to go with her with a little bit more of persuasion.

That is when my fiance started to wake me up. She said I was moaning and getting louder and she had to shake me hard to wake me up. I was sweating profusely and very thirsty and tired. I also remember that I was trying to move any part of my body during my dream, because I was aware that that was the only way to get out of my dream, but I couldn't. She told me I was having a nightmare. I told her I dreamed of my mother and was trying to take me with her.

But the story doesn't end there.

A few days later my father called me over the phone from Saudi Arabia (about 6 hours time difference from Kuala Lumpur). So we had our usual chitchat and holiday greetings. Then he blurted out, "I had a dream the other night that your Mom is taking you with her." I almost passed out when he mentioned it and told him of my dream as well. I wasn't sure of the time and day of our dreams but had my fiance not woke me up, who knows, maybe I won't be here to tell this story, which I told so many times to friends and family.

Tracy's nightmare actually started when she was still awake.

My husband John gets up early for work. I was still in bed, and he always says goodbye and gives me a kiss. What seems to only be moments later, I feel something sit down next to me on the bed and start to rub my shoulders. I say, "What happened, did you forget something?" No answer, just more rubbing. As I'm turning around, I say, "John, did you forget something," and this demonic voice says, "I'm not John," and grabs my throat to start choking me. I started kicking and punching this fiend and somehow managed to throw him off of me. I run out of the bedroom and there's a laundry basket in the hall I have to jump over. I make it to the back door and run out of the house. I run to the street and yell for help as a car is coming down the road. I step into the street and realize no one is driving. The car hits me with tremendous force, and as that happens, I wake up screaming!

I look around and decide I have to get out of there, so I run out of the room and just like the dream, I jump over the laundry basket in the hall go out the back door run to the street and just as I was going to step into the street. I stop, realizing this is exactly what I just dreamt. I stood outside in my pajamas for about 15 minutes before I had the courage to go back in. I'm shaking right now after reliving that nightmare!

Carry from Union shares the tale of the return of her father from beyond the grave.

My father died when my son was 2. In my dream, I heard my son crying. He was out front alone - which would never happen. When I walked out my front door, my father was sitting in a chair in my driveway with Nicholas in his lap. His eyes were hollow...nothing there, but empty space.

I knew he was dead and and stopped in my tracks. "Daddy?" "He's going to be ok," my father told me. His lips never moved, it was just his voice, crisp and clear in my head.
"Daddy! Is that really you?"
"Who else would it be?" If you knew my father, you knew that was exactly what he would say.
"Daddy, can I touch you?"
"I don't see why not", he told me. As I reached out to touch him, not quite believing it was him, I asked if I could hug him. Again, he responded with, "I don't see why not."

When I reached in to hug him, he remained still. His eyes still black, his mouth never moving, his hands, still, on the arms of the chair. Not hugging me back, but remaining in the exact position that I first found him in when he had my son in his lap.

"I love you, Daddy! I miss you so much!"
"I love you, too. It's going to be ok."
My father always told us, "The eyes are the window to your soul. A man with empty eyes has no soul."

My son was diagnosed with pretty severe learning disabilities a few months later. Without significant intervention, he could have been a dependent for life, never being able to fully support himself.

I believe that dream was a visit from beyond. My father's last chance to make everything ok. His eyes were empty, because his soul was no longer there. His body was only there so that I would know it was him, sending me a message. That is why he didn't speak, that is why he didn't move. My son is 14 now. He struggled for years, but was accepted into a vocational program, and still struggles, but we have every expectation that he will be able to support himself, now that he has the right tools. Without my father's message, I may not have pushed as hard. I may have given up. To this day, we keep chairs in the front of the house. I actually went that day and "stole" chairs from my mom's, because, if Daddy ever decides to visit again, I want him to make himself comfortable and stay awhile.

Terror came to CaSandra in the form of a horrific disease.

The hallway has a stench of bleach, the lights so bright they actually reflect onto your skin making you appear paler than you actually are. I've walked this hallway many times but this time it feels different. It's colder, quieter and I'm being summoned to "the room." This room is so bright in color, almost as if it was painted to awaken your mind to pay attention. In the room sits the doctor. He begins to talk, only I can't hear a word he's saying. There's no sound but somehow I know what he's saying by the look on my mother's face. Tears roll down my cheeks as if my brain told my eyes to begin sweating. Sound comes back and his lips reveal the word cancer. My life is over with the long list of what to expect. "No children," he mumbled, "and if at all possible the hormones associated with pregnancy could bring back the cancer with a vengeance." I'm numb, stuck and I want so badly to get up but my body won't listen.

The sting of the saline in this port reminds me just how real this feels. The taste of metal in my mouth makes me feel like someone is trying to gag me with a spoon. I'm bald headed, sick, and can only get my body to lean out of bed to vomit. I've aged, my body that of a 90 year old but my reflection in the mirror still shows me at 26. There's a thunderous sound that is coming from the hallway. My bedroom door swings open hitting the wall, finally my eyes open and there stand my two beautiful children. It's than that I'm reminded that although this was my worst nightmare I'm living a life way beyond my wildest dreams.

What's your worst nightmare? Deminski & Doyle want to know. You can email your entry to dd@nj1015.com, leave them in the comments below or message us on Facebook by 6 p.m. Wednesday, Oct. 19. Deminski, Doyle and Joe V will choose which nightmare is scariest, and the winner gets five tickets to Six Flags Great Adventure, good through November 13!

When you submit your entry, please include your name, an email address, and a phone number where we can reach you (we wont publish any contact information on our website if we publish your submission). You can choose if you want the tickets delivered to you or if you want to come to the radio station to pick them up.

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