"I could not bear to look at it. I knew that if I did I would see myself."
The Crawler:
It scrabbles across the ground, limbs tilting at awkward angles, blood oozing treacle-thick from sunken eyes and hungry mouth. A snarl, midway between human voice and animal growl. We do not fear it because it is alien to us, no, quite the opposite. We fear it because it is so like us and yet so defiled. It forces us to see what we might so easily become. Crawling, filthy, cannibalistic and stained with innocent blood - human without a shred of humanity.

"You cannot accuse me! I only wanted to help! I did everything I could... and still she died."
Guilt:
At some time, each and every one of us will fail. Though others may forgive us, we can never forgive ourselves, and that is why Guilt waits in our dreams. Tear-streaked eyes stare accusingly from beneath the brim of her hat, blood forever drips from her hands. She is a grim reminder of our every failure. She is the blood and tears of our friends, the bitterness of the selfish impulse, the cruel arbiter of our own hidden thoughts.

"I heard their laughter, and felt their claws rip at my clothes as I ran in blind panic. But I never saw their bodies; only countless eyes."
Hide and Seek:
Sometimes it seems that every shadow has eyes and every whisper of wind is a mocking voice. These two are the nightmare of the paranoid, and as they flit like nocturnal insects from shadow to shadow, cackling and chittering, the terror of the unknown grows with every moment. Their voices surround you, their countless eyes glitter from all sides, and there is nowhere left to run as they draw closer.

"Breath burning like battery acid in my lungs, muscles like lead, nowhere to hide and no strength to run. I begged for mercy, offered them everything I had. I prayed for salvation... And then their hammers fell."
Hammerites:
As slow and relentless in pursuit of their victim as they are in its crushing obliteration. Theirs are the slow footsteps through endless corridors. Theirs are the encroaching shadows in rooms with no exit. Theirs are the eyes that seek out every hiding place. Theirs are the hammers that batter down every door and break every fragile bone.

"With ice filling my veins I could do nothing but stare fishlike open-mouthed as that saw-rent face edged ever closer"
Paralysis:
Though fear makes us wish to run, there is a terror so intense that you cannot flee from it. It holds you rooted to the spot, every instinct screaming as it draws inexorably closer. With dead-skinned face sawn asunder and bolted back together, and oil-slick shadows crawling across its hands, it flickers in and out of visibility, never wholly there but never gone. It is the horror you cannot run from, that which strikes when you are utterly helpless.

"Of course I want to play! But mummy said I had to be home before dark. Why is it so dark here? Why are you-"
Children:
Young ones rarely sleep soundly, and the dreams of children are not always sweet. They are haunted by Nightmares such as these, twisted reflections of a once-comforting reality, their faces shifting from familiar to bestial, their moods from playful to violent. Adults find them unsettling, as they cannot accept something so childlike could be so far from innocent.

Raw Head and Bloody Bones:
Towering eight feet tall and gaunt as a skeleton, with only a hollow kind of blackness beneath its hood, even a glimpse of this thing is terrifying. Then you see its hands. Every finger is a blade, a cleaver, a meathook, or flickering shears; always caked in blood which glistens and slowly clots. In your dreams he will rip the flesh from your bones, and you somehow know you shall remain most horribly conscious: still able to feel pain and try to struggle through every agonising moment from the first touch of steel until there is nothing left of you but bloodstains across the rusted walls.