Okay, so I was a bit of a "troubled child" - between the ages of 3-6, I had difficulty speaking and consequently wouldn't really socialize/talk to anyone but my sister. Mostly I'd keep to myself. I'd also have night terrors pretty often. For those of you who don't know, night terrors are like sleepwalks on crack. I'd walk around in my sleep, sometimes really fast and hurt myself + hurt myself by accident. I'd also scream inconsolable, sometimes my eyes would be open. All why I was sound asleep. (Side note: I really had one of the nicest childhoods imaginable, I was just quiet + would have pretty crazy nightmares)
So, the scary part comes in what I was dreaming about during the night terrors. It was pretty basic nightmare stuff, the problem was more that it was recurring. For as long as I could remember, every other night or so, sometimes every night or more than once in a night, I'd have that freaking nightmare.
Basically, it'd start as a normal dream, often at a social gathering, and when I'd get tired/hungry/bored and wandered off, I'd end up in a pitch black room with no furnishings but a table. The door would shut and disappear into the wall behind me. So running away wasn't an option. All I could do was walk over to the table, notice the book on the table, and get it over with. The cover of the book had a man on it - he was maybe 40, had a scar under his right eye, and curly black hair. I'm not that good at describing people, but his face was incredibly distinct and life-like. And it was always the same man in the dream. After I looked at the book long enough, he would start moving, slowly melt from the book, materialize in front of me, and brutally murder me. Sometimes he had a knife, sometimes he'd strangle or kick me to death, sometimes he'd just jump at me and I'd wake up.
Anyway, I had this dream constantly -- until I was about 7 or 8. We were in a theme park (I think Disney??) and it was crowded. I was helping my mom push the stroller, when I dropped my sunglasses. I lean down to pick them up but someone beats me to it. I look up as the person hands them back to me and IT'S THE FUCKING GUY FROM THE DREAM! He smiled at me and disappeared into the crowd. I had the dream right before waking up that morning, so I was absolutely certain it was him.
I never had that dream again after that day.