When I was little, I used to have the same recurring nightmare. I was trapped in an underground labyrinth beneath a huge, old farmhouse. The entrance was an old cellar door and the first passages were reasonably large and well lit. The first time I went in, the cellar door blew shut behind me and locked. My parents couldn't open it and they told me I must search for another exit. The further in / deeper you went the narrower, darker, and more decrepit it got. Eventually it was no longer constructed rooms but tunnels hollowed out of the earth and rock. I would "wake" into the dream at different places in the labyrinth and wander for hours. Sometimes I'd find my way to passages that went back to the surface and I could see my father in the yard through a daylight basement window of sorts. But that wasn't the right passage to the exit and I was still trapped. He would hold my hands through the barred window and pray with me before I turned around and went back into the maze. I would eventually wake up when I finally laid down on the floor of the maze and "slept". I remember knowing that there were evil things deep in the labyrinth and occasionally they would pursue me but I don't remember if I ever encountered them directly. I don't remember if I ever found my way out of the maze but the last time I dreamed the dream, I was steeling myself to keep wandering in the dark and I was reciting to myself the passage my mom would read to me when I woke up from a nightmare. "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” I would repeat that to myself endlessly while I wandered the labyrinth. And suddenly the whole top was lifted off the labyrinth and it shrunk away to tiny little channels beneath my feet. And I stood there in the farmyard for a moment before I woke up from that nightmare for the last time. It's been over 20 years and I haven't been back there. Then, for many years I would dream I was being murdered. Either shot or stabbed. I could feel the cramping, searing pain each time. I would try to fight back but I was moving in slow motion and struck with the weight of a leaf. I tried fleeing for a while but I would always be found. Any weapons I had would turn into toys, my teeth would be breaking out and my nails shearing off while I tried to fight back. Eventually, in one of those dreams, I screamed to God for strength and beat all my attackers to death with my hands. I've had that dream again since but now I fight with force and my weapons are real and deadly. Sometimes I still get killed but I always take many with me. And sometimes I win.