This is describing the painting by Edvard Munch called The Scream,
http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/munch/
I screamed. A horrible ear-splitting scream. A scream
that would chill the dead as they lay in their gloomy, decaying graves.
The blooded, fiery sky behind me twisted and swirled like hell had seeped through to the earth.
The stormy sea rolled and reared and seemed to merge into the sky, as though a mighty war was taking place.
The beach seemed a distant memory, the people, tiny dots.
The whole scene was a whirlpool sucking me in, down into the oblivion of insanity. Down where happiness and free will could not penetrate.
I put my hands over my ears, trying to obstruct the wailing and moaning entering my brain and pulling me deeper and deeper into a place of mystery and horror.
Two sinister figures lingered in the shadows watching me, their faces hidden. They looked like bloodthirsty creatures risen from the murky deep, their presence washing over me like a shadow cast across an abandoned old room, chilling me to the bone. Why were they here? Their sleek black bodies drawing ever nearer. What did they want from me?
I wanted to run but found my feet cemented to the ground. I was all-alone, a sheep, strayed from the heard. A lone figure in a world of madness swaying in front of my eyes. These were the monsters that terrorised my dreams, stalking me, and tracing my every move.
I wanted to wake up, to realise it was all a dream, but the nightmare continued.
