Conversations with Wolves

They finally decided to come have a chat. The door opened and in walked a young woman in a grey suit, followed closely by Mr. Fedora with the same annoying smirk he always has. He stood back, saying nothing while the woman sat on a chair on the other side of a table that is present in the room, setting a laptop down atop it and opening it up. She gestured to the seat on our side and Nick sat down.

Woman: Hello.
Nick: Hey...from both of us.
Woman: Yes of course. Mister Shade, you need not speak through your friend here, my computer is able to generate audible speech, feel free to utilize it.
Me: Oh cooool. I sound like a robot. Beep boop!
Woman: You're probably wondering why we're keeping you here.
Me: Actually I'm more interested in why we're not dead!
Woman: We'd gain nothing from killing either of you, Mister Shade... 
Mr. Fedora: Not yet.
Woman: Yes, not yet. It may surprise you to hear this but we both want the same thing here.
Me: It doesn't surprise me to hear that at all! I don't believe it for one second, but I'm not surprised you'd say it.
Woman: The Long Game confuses us no less than you. We don't know what the Nevermore Accord had planned for you, or whether or not it is still ongoing, considering your sudden demise at the hands of the Manufactured Newborn.
Me: Claws. Evil, mechanical claws.
Woman: Yes, those. We will be keeping you here for the foreseeable future, until our research can uncover further information on the nature of the Long Game and what role you play within it.
Me: So, what? You keep us locked up for days and then waltz in just to tell us that you're keeping us locked up? I think we could have figured that out on our own thank you very much.
Woman: This process would go a lot faster if you were to aid us in this endeavor.
Me: And THEN you can kill us.
Mr. Fedora: Yes.
Woman: No. Then you become a useful asset in preventing the Sine Corda's plan from coming to fruition. I think we can both agree that in all likelihood, the Sine Corda's goal is to end everything. And neither of us want that now do we?
Me: So, what? You want us to become Timberwolves?
Nick: I am NOT cool with that.
Me: Nor am I, Nicky, nor am I.
Nick: Don't call me Nicky.
Me: Sorry.
Woman: You won't be Timberwolves. You will be...independent agents. We have resources and manpower, you have knowledge of Sine Corda operations and whatever makes you so important to them. And most importantly, we have a shared mission. Saving the universe. You can't argue with that now can you?
Me: ...
Nick: ...
Mr. Fedora: *Smirk intensifies*
Woman: I'll leave you to mull it over. Take as long as you need.

She gets up, closing the laptop and walks to door, stopping short. "We're not all as evil as you think we are. Everyone just wants to survive." She leaves, and Mr. Fedora follows her, looking back at us as he does so. He indicates to his eyes, then to us, in the 'I'm watching you' gesture-y thingy before closing the door behind him.

What choice do we have?

-Shady

sorry

So, I may have freaked out there a bit. I mean, you can't blame me can you? This whole thing is just one big shitpot of...shit. But I guess, this is just my life now huh? It's a whole lot to deal with. But I guess most of you probably know that already, and you probably handled it better than me.

I suppose you guys need to be caught up, yeah? So, basically, from what Shady told me, those people he could sense were 'Timberwolves'. Hell of a weird name if you ask me. They're servants of another Fear-thingy called the Archangel apparently. They shot up the whole circus and captured me and Shady. Once they got rid of the Ring-Master, I sort of started coming to. I was too disoriented to freak out right away though.

I finally woke up in the middle of the circus surrounded by dead bodies and burning tents. Several men in combat gear, gas masks and armed with assault rifles were approaching from all sides. There wasn't really anything I could do. One man, pale and gaunt in a long black coat and fedora walked closer Mr. Fedora returns! and leaned down to where I was laying confused and terrified. "Found you," he remarked, before the soldiers grabbed me, bound me and dragged me through the carnage, bundling be into the back of a nondescript van The nondescript van returns! and blindfolded me.

I don't know where they took us, but now we're locked up in this strange room. I guess this IS better than the circus. I've got a bed, food and a laptop. I'm still confused why they gave me a laptop though.

Fears have a weird obsession with blogs. It's best not to question it.

Uh-huh. They still haven't come in to talk to us. I don't know why they're keeping us here and neither does Shady. What do they want?

It seems the Long Game is far from over.

Oh god.

What happened?! What the fuck is going on. Everything fucking hurts. I'm covered in scars. Some of them still bleeding. I don't remember anything for the past few months. It's all just a blur of darkness, screaming and pain. Shitshitshit what happened?! Where am I?!

Look, you've got to try to calm down okay. You're not going to get out of thi

Shut up! You're not real. This isn't fucking real! It was fine when you were just a voice in my head and these were all just spooky stories, but I can't handle this! I didn't ask for this! This is all your fault, everything was fine until you came along and now. Now I can't even tell what's fucking real and what's a nightmare I can't I can't breathe I hate this I hate you!!!!

Damn it, Nick! I told you! You were already targeted by the Grotesque before I showed up. But you're right, if I hadn't shown up you wouldn't be unable to tell the difference between what's real and what's a nightmare, because you wouldn't have to! Everything would be a dang-blasted nightmare! You'd be in a freaking coma, tortured in an endless dreamworld forever or until you starved to death, and if I've learned one thing it's that death is hardly a barrier to the Fears, meaning you'd still be in hell! Forever! 

This may not seem much different but it's a marginal improvement.

A marginal improvement? A MARGINAL IMPROVEMENT?!!! Why should I believe anything you say?! Why are we even having this conversation over a blog post, we can talk to each other! I can't think clearly and guess what IT'S BECAUSE OF FUCKING YOU!!! I'm just some guy, I'll never see my friends again, I'm doomed to some crazy shitty life of running from monsters and IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT YOU BLOODY SHIGXZM4W

Sorry about that. As it turns out I can cause devices to deliver slight electric shocks hehe. Nick just needs a minute to cool off is all. He'll be fine in a bit. He's a cool guy.

You're probably a bit confused. I don't really have time to explain everything right now. But in case you're concerned I'll give you the quick version.

Timberwolves.

-Nick and Shady

Old Friends?

Okay, so I ran out of ideas pretty quick. I tried getting Nicholas close to some electrical source, figuring a good shock would get him conscious again. Alas no matter how much I willed I couldn't get him to do any more than sway slightly in its direction. I guess I don't have any domination powers. Unfortunate, that would have come in handy in more situations than just this one. Then again, there are extenuating circumstances at work here, so it may warrant further experimentation.

But back to the matter at hand. It's not like I'm going to be giving up anytime soon. I've got nothing better to do than continuing to rebel against the Grotesque's control, but I'm feeling more and more helpless with every passing day. There seems to be nothing I can do to effect the physical world, as long as I'm trapped in here in this dreamless expanse I can't effect the dream world and as far as the digital world goes, sure I can interact with a computer, but unless someone here knows where they can find this here circus and can fight their way through an army of sleep walking maniacs who am I going to contact?

Then again, maybe this is all academic. I don't know if it's going to be of any use (it could just make things worse) but I can feel someone different out there. There are visitors to the circus, I can sense them. I don't know how, but they feel familiar. I can't quite put my finger on it though. If there is one thing I've learned since this all started it's that when something new shows up you can bet it's going to cause some shift in circumstances. I can only hope it'll be for the better.

And for once, in this helpless state, that might actually be possible. 

-Shady

Midnight Circus

It was a strange sensation, losing consciousness. Of course I'd done if before, but not since becoming this new Thoughtborn thing. But when the Ringmaster put his hand over Nick's face, my mind went numb and  I faded away. It felt like being consumed by the Quiet. Brought back bad memories.

We woke up in a cell. Or at least I did. Nick was still asleep, but I couldn't wake him up. I couldn't even do anything to help because he wasn't even dreaming. Given the situation, this seemed confusing. It's not the Grotesque's MO to not give nightmares. But it was intelligent. If he's not dreaming I can't get to him, I can't wake him and I can't help him. The worst thing about it though, or at the very least the bit that makes a really bad situation even worse, is that I can't leave his head. Normally I could flow out at will, into someone else's head and their dreams. Talk someone into helping, something! But whatever the Ringmaster had done to us, it meant I was just as trapped as Nick. This was also the time I noticed that I couldn't see if my host's eyes weren't open. Meaning I was blind on top of helpless.

Everyday the cell opens, footsteps are heard and Nick is hoisted to his feet, where he stands, wobbling slightly from side to side. Then he moves forward, in hobbled, sluggish steps he and the others who entered the cell go out into the open. Circus music plays, laughter and screams fill the air. Nick performs several tasks, he juggles, breathes fire, throws knives, contorts himself, and sometimes just bloody self-harms. All while asleep, asleep in his dreamless inescapable sleep. Every once and a while the Ringmaster's laughter can be heard, booming out above all the other noise of the circus. It's all just a game to him. 

I don't know what exactly the Ringmaster is. I'd seen him in several other dreams on my mental travels across the globe. He's not always a ringmaster, he appears as whatever's suited to the nightmare that's occurring. But the one thing that's always consistent is his eyes. Like fish, swimming about his face. I figured he was some sort of incarnation of the Grotesque, a partner to the bestial monster who feeds off their victims' life-forces. But then he appeared in real life. I don't think the Grotesque can do that. At least I didn't. It's hard to know anything with any certainty when things like the Fears are involved.

For weeks it's been going on. For weeks Nick gets up, performs his tricks, eats, drinks, stays alive and then returns to his cell and falls once more into the deep catatonic state. But it's only today I managed to access a computer. I don't know why it was put there, but it gives me some opportunity. Something I can finally do. They can trap me in his head but I can still control electronics. I'll find some way to free him from the Ringmaster's grasp. Don't know how yet. But I have to.

-Shady

Coming to Take You Away

We were holed up in the apartment. Nick never mentioned where he lived, so if we were lucky none of the Fears would be able to track me down. After all this time I'm still no closer to figuring out their interest in me. What makes me so important. I've read stuff about receivers and amplifiers drawing Fears in, or maybe I'm just unlucky. But that's beside the point.

A few days passed, uneventful, Nick was coping better with the lack of sleep. A problem which was lessening as I got better at fighting off the Grotesque. Until one day it stopped all together. We hoped it had just given up, decided we were more trouble than we're worth and gone off to focus its attention on some other poor soul. That finally we'd get some peace and quiet. 

Since when was that likely?

It was I don't know how many days ago. Weeks ago at this stage. The apartment was silent as we read through text books we'd found at a nearby bookstore. We wouldn't dare enter a library. Nick still didn't trust me, but he was smart enough to trust himself, so we researched the Fears. I knew no matter how well we kept our location secret it was only a matter of time before we'd be forced to run. Or he would, I'd just tag along, being inside his head and all. 

So we read in silence, utter silence. No noise was heard from the other rooms, nothing from the streets. The atmosphere was foreboding to say the least. Then we heard it. A soft noise. Music, humming up from somewhere in the building. It grew louder and it became clear that whatever the source was it was heading this way. As it drew closer the music became clearer and I realized what it was. 

Magical Mystery Tour, by The Beatles. 

Listening to an unknown source of music tell us it was coming to take us away. Well we were scared. Maybe it was nothing, but at this point I think we can agree that any paranoia I suffer is justified. And as the music got louder and louder as it came down the corridor, we decided it was time we barricaded the door. Nick pushed several pieces of furniture in front of the door, while I offered encouragement (Not much I CAN do).

And lo and behold the music stopped just at it reached our door. Nick held his breath and we waited silently for whatever was to come. Things only got worst as the door suddenly unlocked with a click, and began to slowly open, pushing away any barricades that were set up effortlessly. And there, standing in the door frame, was the Ringmaster. The Man With Fish For Eyes.

Nick backed up quickly, trying to find somewhere to run to, but we were trapped. As the Ringmaster stepped in, his false smile and restless eyeballs permanently decorating his face, several other men and women poured in around him. They seemed normal, but their movements were sluggish and their eyes closed. They were sleep walking.

"Step right up, hurry now! This way to the main attraction!" the Ringmaster said, in his booming voice, before seizing Nick by the throat and lifting him into the air with incredible strength. "You don't want to be late!" He tossed him out the door, and he collided with the corridor wall, hitting the ground. The Sleep Walkers crowded around him wordlessly, grabbing his arms and legs and lifting him up. He kicked and screamed as they carried him down the hallway, but they were too strong and his calls went unanswered. The music started up again as we were hauled away, following the Ringmaster like a demented parade.

"Roll up, roll up for the magical mystery tour!"

-Shady

So

I don't know what to say. I've been reading up on these "Fear" things, and they seem like an interesting concept, but them being real? I'm a grown man, I don't believe in monsters under the bed and I know the only things that go bump in the night are old pipes.

But...

Then there's Shady. I can hear his voice in my head which is really really really disconcerting.

Sorry, but it's easier than having to send messages into the computer. There may come a time when you won't have access to the computer, so it's better for both of us if you get used it now.

That's true. And now I'm replying to you. I'm not even sure you're real! If it was just a voice I'd presume I was insane, or I got a serious concussion, or some sort of split-personality disorder, or something other than that it's he's an actual person who had their consciousness transferred into me after they he were was killed by a robotic thing.

Stop correcting me! And quit changing how you write stuff!

--Sorry.--

As I was saying, I'd presume something was very wrong with me if it was just the voice. But it's writing things in my posts, and I'm watching them appear. It's making posts on my blog, and people are making posts in response to them. People who have their own blogs mentioning these Fears. There's no way a hallucination can be that extensive, or that intricate. If I was hallucinating the posts, I'd also be hallucinating the comments, and the links to their blogs, and hence I'd be hallucinating the entirety of their blogs! And all subsequent link to all other blogs and those blogs!

There's always a chance I have a split personality that's writing these things, and just not noticing the time lapses. And that the commentors are people who are presuming I'm part of their blogger-dom of fictitious stories about similarly fictitious beings. But that would require prior knowledge of the Fears. I don't remember reading about them beforehand. Perhaps I've forgotten it and filed it away into my subconscious to later be the centre of my delusions. But to formulate Shady I'd have had read The Long Game. I should have been able to remember that. At least some sense of recognition.

There are just too many possibilities. The mind is too complicated. The universe is too complicated. Anything could be true at this point!

 Oh, stop being so paranoid!

And I told you to stop changing how you write stuff!

--Shut up.--

Sorry About That

I'd like to issue a formal apology to all the people I have severely confused with my previous post. I haven't blogged in what from your perspective has been about 10 months and wanted to give you all the information as fast as I could. At the cost of making logical sense, whatever "logic" means anymore.

I promised to give more information on the Fears. Here we go. The Fears are an assemblage of numerous unusual beings, exact numbers get confusing due to an event called "Dimensional Bleeding" which occurs in the proximity of Fears. This Dimensional Bleeding is when information, objects and sometimes even people transition from one universe to an alternate universe in which things are different to varying degrees. Different universes have different numbers of even types of Fears. A common theme among them is that they are physical representations of common human fears: death, disease, nightmares, etc. General information on these things, associated Unexplained Phenomena and servants to the Fears can be found in the blog The Archive, set up and run by members of the same Archive organisation mentioned in The Long Game, though the blog is no longer maintained. The Archive itself is headed by a Fear, commonly named the Blind Man, who to many is seen as the most benevolent of Fears, an opinion I personally must disagree with.

That's the explanation I gave Nick, whom I can communicate with from within his own head. I think I've managed to calm him down, he got pretty freaked when I started talking to him. Can't say I blame him, but I'm here whether he likes it or not. Odds are if I left the Grotesque would come back and he'd get himself trapped in a nightmarish dreamworld for the rest of eternity, which I'm sure he does not want. So we both get something out of this.

Now, Proxiehunter commented on my last post, mentioning that I was some new type of Thoughtborn (a servant of the Manufactured Newborn (the Fear of Technology and the Future) made out of pure consciousness). I'm not going to argue with him, given that I'm pretty sure that's what I am, but I'm not a servant of the Manufactured Newborn, not as far as I can tell. I feel no compulsion to torment humanity with my electrical powers, nor any mechanical voice echoing around my thought patterns. When the Newborn caught me and consumed me, I could feel myself becoming one, a Thoughtborn. It was a strange sensation, to become one with cyberspace. But it didn't last long. I faded away, being eaten and absorbed into something else. Or should I say, into Nothing else. I was Unraveled by the Quiet, I stopped existing, stopped ever having had existed. I was gone. I don't know how, or even how I know, but The Sleeper kept me going in some way, shape or form I can't describe. I can't tell you how long it was because time didn't exist for me, but I saw something. In the eternal emptiness something was. It was an amulet, a jewel as black as the void itself. Then I woke up, in the mind of a Hushed Monk, servants of the Quiet.

And here I am: Mind of a Machine, Heart of a Heartless, Soul of a Dead Man, now all I need is a Body.

-Shady

Here I Am, Come and Get Me!

Helloooooooo, good readers, whomsoever you may be. You may call me Shady, or Shade, or any variation thereupon. Some of you may know me, no doubt many of you shall not. For the full version you may find it in my previous blog The Long Game. If you don't have the time, or simply wish to do something more meaningful with it I shall summarise:

I began with stating that I had several encounters with a Hooded Stalker Freak who displayed odd abilities. I soon came to the conclusion that he was a servant of mysterious entities known as Fears (more on them later). I was coerced by one of these entities into entering a forest for an encounter with yet another, known as the Slenderman (whose name may mean something to some of you). I blacked out and awoke in hospital, to determine that the staff and even my family were having a hard time remembering who I was. My entire life was being erased by a Fear known as the Quiet. Thus I decided to run, in the hopes my situation would improve. After several more encounters with several other Fears I was contacted by a group known as the Archive who possesses knowledge on pretty much everything. I traveled to their base in Paris, almost getting myself exploded by Timberwolves on the way. After they discovered I had a fraction of the Dying Man inside me, I was captured by the Quiet's servants and turned into one of them. I was sent to hunt down several runners and enemy servants, one of which was a Towerborn who lured me into the Empty City. After some time I found my way into the Manufactured Newborn's domain and it killed me.

Confused? I SHOULD BLOODY HOPE SO! If you're not, please contact me, maybe you can answer some of my questions. By the by, the link above will probably explain some of it.

How did I go from being dead to being here, you may ask. Well, after having all my flesh removed by a metal-spider-baby I woke up as a Monk in a monastery in some far off mountains, like was described in this here blog a few posts ago. I was inside the head of his monk, unable to do anything but observe the world through his eyes. Eventually I discovered that I needn't be confined to his head, and I managed to pass through a sort neural network into other people's dreams. I had to find someone compatible, wouldn't have their life completely ruined by my presence and most importantly: Had a blog! Nick fit all these criteria, seeing as he's being targeted by the Grotesque I figured being able to protect him, I may in fact be capable of improving his future. And he seems mentally compatible as far as I can tell. Seeing as I'm typing this, that seems accurate.

Oh also, I don't seize control of him like a Dying Man Fragment, as far as I can tell I just use his brain as a sort of transmitter to access nearby computer-devices.

Now, if you have no idea what a Fear is I would have stopped reading at the beginning of this post, but I would definitely stop reading after this post. You may have already learned too much. Except you Nick, you don't really have a choice anymore. I'm hoping that everyone who continues reading has had some experience with Fears (Well, I hope no one ever did, but it's a bit late for that), so I won't have to explain everything. In case some of you are still confused I'll train to explain more in my next post.

Also, I'm going to take the liberty of spicing up this blog design. Seems so mundane.

Tally ho!

-Shady

Tired

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. I don't know what to say. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in days. Every time I'm asleep I wake up after a couple hours. I haven't had a dream since the one mentioned in my last post.

By now it's almost starting to hurt. I wake up with a sudden jolt every night, my head's starting to ache. I'm feeling sick and drowsy all day. The job-hunts certainly off. I went to the doctor, who prescribed me something to help me sleep. They're not helping. I'm sorry if this post isn't very informative, I can't even think straight.

You think YOU have problems? I'm the one stuck in this wei

I didn't write that. I felt drowsy and when I looked at the screen again that was there. I don't know what's happening. This is starting to creep me out! What am I saying starting, I'm into seriously freaked out territory here! Maybe I need to see a psychiatrist, not a medicinal doctor.

Bye, I guess.

The Circus

There was a circus that spread beyond the horizon. Thousands of stands and performers and spectators. Contortionists that twisted their bodies into unholy shapes, loud popping and cracking heard with each unnatural turn. Contortionists should be able to twist their bodies safely, these ones seemed to have no care for their bones. Fire breathers with burnt clothes and faces scorched to the their blackened skulls expelled plumes of bright red flames. Knife jugglers with long blades protruding from their heads, and crimson blood pouring from open wounds, were surrounded by faceless observers. 

In the middle of it all was a tent. A massive big-top, of traditional red and white stripes. It loomed above everything, a citadel of cloth and music, casting a shadow over all around it. I walked through the fields of disturbing spectacles, casting wary glances at the bloodied, bruised and burnt entertainers. Music permeated the air, emanating from an unknown source. It was the classic, almost cliché tones of amusement, but as if played on a broken tape. The volume undulated, notes jumbling themselves. But it was nothing compared to the laughter and screams of agony which filled the air in equal measure.

I was drawn towards the centre, into the big top. As I passed between its folds and into the dark, dank innards of the demented dream world the noise died abruptly. I glanced behind me, the world outside continued as normal (whatever normal meant here), but no sound came. I continued into the tent, passing between two seating stands. I stood just before the entry into the centre ring, which was shrouded in inky darkness. The stands however, I could see perfectly well, and each seat in the stadium sized tent was filled with a sleeping person. Man, woman, child, each one with eyes closed and bodies limp. Nothing but the barely visible rise and fall of their chests told me they were still alive.

My eye was drawn across the seats, where something moved. As much as I tried to focus its body remained blurry and undefined. The figure walked on all fours, or sixes, or eights, its sickly coloured body covered in eyes which blinked in unison. The corner of my eye was caught from the other side of the tent, where the beast also moved. Flickering between the sleeping audience, examining each in turn. I looked from left to right as the beast traveled at impossible speeds over great distances.

Boom. A spotlight appeared on the stage, and in it stood a human figure, dressed in a red ring-master's uniform, a cane in hand and a hat held down over his eyes. "Hello, ladies and gentleman!" he announced, his voice booming though I saw no microphone, but that is little obstacle in a dream. "Thank you all for joining us this evening and we hope you will enjoy the show." At the last word he held his head up, and his eyes were visible. They were but human eyes, yet unlike human eyes, they did not remain stationary. They swam about his face like fish, switching place and changing position.

"For our first act we will need a volunteer from the audience! You, good sir, I see you volunteer." To my relief he was not pointing at me, but rather to one of the many sleeping men in the crowd, who rose still sleeping to his feet and wandered down to the stage, a spotlight following him the whole way, as well as the gaze of the beast. He stood lazily next to the ring-master, who looked at the man with his maddening eyes. "Hello there, and what would your name be?" The man merely swayed slightly on the spot. "Aha! Pleased to meet you. If you'd please just stand here." He indicated the spot where he was standing as he moved out of the way and the sleep-walker mindlessly did as instructed.

"Ladies and gentleman, what you see here tonight is no trick," he announced as he receded into the blackness, leaving the man alone. Seconds ticked away slowly as the man continued to sway. Then a gnarled claw reached out from the dark. Eyes, teeth, legs, tail. It came from multiple sides, sliding in and out of the shadows. Then it struck. Flickering out from the nowhere to grab the man's head in its hands. His eyes snapped open and he began to scream as the the beast opened its mouth and began to literally suck the life from him, a dark light pouring from the man and into the creature. When it was finished feeding it dropped the man to the floor and flickered away once again.

I wanted to wake up, I had to wake up, but the circus wouldn't let me. I tried to turn away, but just as I did I was grabbed by the ring-master. "I see we have another volunteer! We don't usually do two in one night, but unforeseen circumstances mean for you we'll make an exception. Aren't you lucky?" He dragged me onto the stage in a vice-like grip, too powerful to escape. I was tossed into the central spotlight and the ring-master disappeared again. I immediately began to run back to an exit, but the beast blocked my path, jumping from corner to corner of my eye, forcing me from every attempt at freedom. I was trapped. It advanced on me, rising on its hind-legs, its blurring form gazing at me with malevolent intent, each eye burrowing into my mind. 

BANG! A gunshot rang out, striking the beast which scrambled away in its disjointed movement. Lights came up, and I saw running towards me with a gun in hand was a boy, merely a teenager. "Hey!" he exclaimed, stopping as he reached me, "You're dreaming!" My confusion at such a statement -dreams do not usually say you are dreaming in such apparent ways- was interrupted as the creature collected itself and lurched towards us. "Time to wake up!" he said and he punched me in the face.

I guess it worked, because next thing I knew I was awake, terrified and thoroughly confused.

Okay then...

This morning I woke up and found my dream journal. On it were 2.5 words which I don't remember writing, apparently about a dream I don't remember having.

You'll do.

Hushed Monks

What's weirdest about this dream is how realistic it is. All the others, hell, all the dreams I've ever had had been dreams, crazy, barely coherent, impossible dreams. But this one, it could, somewhere in the immensity of the world, be true.

I was a monk in a monastery somewhere. Somewhere high in some mountains somewhere in traditional monk fashion. Everything was just. So. Quiet. When one of the other monks 'spoke' it was just their mouths moving, no sound coming out. But I still knew what they were saying. Well, the monk did. The monk I was 'inhabiting'.

A medallion was hanging from around my neck. Set within was possibly a jewel, of a deep, dark black beyond any jewel I had ever seen. I wandered about the monastery, along freezing cold ramparts that oversaw the range of rocky mountains. But there was no wind, no footsteps, nothing to interrupt the perfect silence.

I wandered down the many halls. Before entering a large room, several pillars running down, two lines of them parallel. The room was dark, brown in colour with an altar of flickering candles at the end. In the middle of the alter was a box. That was the box the medallion had been kept in. I don't remember witnessing anything that would support that, but I my dream-self knew.

Several other monks were there. They knelt along the length of the room, with half a dozen gathered by the altar. I passed between them, clearly the centre of the ceremony or whatever it was. I knelt before the altar, head bowed, my hood pulled over my head. I gazed at one of the other monks, all but his mouth obscured by his hood. He mouthed to me, his lips moving silently, yet I knew the words he spoke, as if I had heard/seen them many times before.

"The quiet claims us all."

Then I woke up.

Of the Dead and the Faceless

Hello again. So, my party was last week. I couldn't have it on my actual birthday unfortunately, because some of my friends were busy. But we went out and celebrated later. It's all the same in the end. It was all pretty simple really, we went to a couple bars, drank some beers. Mark tried to set me up with some chick he met, didn't work out. Some drunk guy punched Johnny, he was thrown out. It seems all my friends drink far more than me. I'm more of a casual drinker, rather than a "drink to get drunk" kinda guy.

Of course it still lead to the most disturbing dream I've had so far.

I was standing on a field of black rock, onyx or obsidian maybe, when a person appeared in front of me as if it were always there, I don't remember it being there before I remembered, if that makes any sense. The person was thin, and its face was a blank canvas; it wore a black cloak that rendered it almost invisible against the dark field of stone.

I stood before it, its gaze of non-existence tore through me, ripping away at my mind. I screamed uncontrollably. I heard a high-pitched screech that drowned out my own screams and I dropped to my knees. A thick fog rolled in, surrounding me. Where the fog touched me, my flesh rotted and fell from my bones. My skin, my muscles, my organs all fell away.

Now skeletonised (that should be a word) the screeching died away and I rose to my bone-feet. I looked into the eyes of the eyeless beast and struck out, my hands raking through it. It turned to an ink black fluid, collapsing to the ground fully. Fallen.

But it rose up against me again, its now liquid form lurching towards me. It wrapped itself around my skeletal-self, pouring between my bones. I struggled to be free and fought for air despite having no lungs. I gasped, the ink poured into my mouth, consuming me from all sides.

I became nothing but darkness in a world of darkness.

I don't know how disturbing other people will find it, but to me, it was so vivid, too vivid. My mind hurt so much. I needed air so much. I couldn't stand it. Just remembering it now, I can't help but shudder.

I'll tell you about some other weird dreams I've been having some other time. For now, I need to get a good night's sleep.

Dreams I Haven't Forgot

Standing in the hallway of a building I don't know. A long knife in my hand. Deep music plays in the distance, an organ. The walls ripple and pulse, like a beast, breathing. Men in cloaks approach from all sides. The caw of birds can be heard over the music. I drive the knife between my ribs. The music plays louder as blood stains my shirt. Blood drips from the walls, blinding me, drowning me.

I wake up.

I'm on a hill, my head laying on the grass. Looking up at the stars. They begin to move and swirl, as if being pushed by the wind. The wind blows them into a torrent and then they flow away, leaving the sky an endless black. The wind whips up the grass I'm laying on, ripping out each blade and sending them scattered into the dark. The soil whips away too, the rock and the earth, leaving only me in an abyss. "End."

I wake up.

Walking through a house of many colours. Men and woman wander around aimlessly, their skin every colour of the rainbow, their smiles wider than their faces. Everything stops and they turn to look at me. They draw near me, crowding me and clawing at my flesh. Their jaws open wide and each one eats me whole. How, I don't know. 

I wake up.

These are my dreams. Pretty disturbing, huh? They're different every night, these ones stuck with me. I just happen to remember these. I don't know the symbolism behind all this or how credible dream symbolism is as a theory. Dreams generally just seem pretty random to me.

I didn't have any dreams last night, the ones here are just some of the ones I remember from before, the reasons I set up this blog. What will tonight bring?

Begun a Blog

This is what I have done. If you're here, you likely know that.

This blog is my general blog for all my bloggily things, but officially I have started it to record my dreams. I've been having some weird and some-would-say ominous dreams lately and I'd like to keep track of them and share them with you all. I've got a journal by my bed, to write down what I remember right after I wake up to avoid the imminent and inevitable loss of the memories. I can then transcribe them here.

I'll tell you about all my dreams some other time. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after, maybe next week, maybe not. I've been known to procrastinate.

But, forgive me, I have neglected to introduce myself. I am Nicholas Green, it is my birthday today, I'm 23, currently unemployed (what with the state of today's economy) and living in an apartment which I can ill-afford. If all goes according to plan I'll be having a birthday celebration in a couple of days.

But never mind that. Until next we meet, whensoever that may be, I bid you adieu.