ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"When all the things you knew for sure were not what they'd seemed\" - Longwave So, last night, after updating, I go upstairs and tell my roommate about the whole cat thing. She looks at me like Why did you tell me that fucking story? and then asks, "Why did you tell me that fucking story?" I responded, "Because I need to share it with someone. I need to get it out." At that she said, "That's why you have a journal." Oh yeah. Although I've heard from some people who read this that they don't want it, either. I suppose I can't blame them. Then this girl calls me and keeps me on the phone for an hour and three minutes to tell me what a shitty person I am, which she effectively illustrates in three minutes flat. The other hour... well, I don't really quite recall what the relevancy of all that was.I go to sleep around two-ish and have one of the most disturbing dreams I've ever had. In it, I am someone that I don't recognize, with a sense of self. Around me in a comfy-looking living room setting are five other people that I don't recognize, but know without thinking that they are my best friends. All starts well and pleasant. Words are exchanged. There is laughter and a hearty meal. Then it all goes horribly awry.An alien creature that resembles an octopus with humanoid qualities comes in and starts killing my friends one by one. When it gets to my house, I hear it downstairs. I go into my study, with my cat, whom I'd barely swiped away from a rather tenacious tentacle, and dive out the window. I'm outside, listening to the creature in my study, wondering aloud where I am. Then I hear the tapping of keys and hear it say, "Hmmm, Julien..." and realize that it is using the computer in my study to contact my remaining friends and possibly lure them into a trap. I make a spectacle of climbing to the window, getting its attention, and then falling down to the soft grass on my back. The one-story fall wasn't nearly enough to kill me or even harm me noticeably, but I'm counting on its ignorance of earth gravity, human anatomy, and the frailty of our bodies. Just when I think it's buying my ruse, I realize that it's merely putting on a ruse of its own and using the time that I'm playing dead to hunt down my friend within the house and capture him. I give up the charade before it kills my friend and tell it that it can have me, instead. In its grasp, we fly over terrain unfamiliar on our way back to the living room setting from the beginning of the dream. While in transit, the creature inflates my friend with what looks like sand and sawdust until he bursts. I scream, having been betrayed and lost the best of my best friends. The creature hitches a ride in the base of my skull and deposits me back in the living room. There, I am washing the dishes from the meal that we had earlier and thinking about the creature holding court in my brain. I look to the couches and see the four empty spaces once occupied by my dearest friends, and I start to cry. I see memories flutter before me that mean nothing to me, Eric, but everything to this person that I am in this dream. I'm crying so hard that it looks like hysterical laughing. I can't stop it, even despite the horrific protests from the creature in my mind. Whenever I think the crying will subside, I remember the last friend to die; his face, his laugh, and I lose it. I cry so loud and long and hard. It's so wet and ineffective. Normally a good cry helps, but each ounce of tears makes me yearn for seven ounces more. The creature screams at me to stop, and the screams change from anger to pain and then horror and shock as I realize that my salty tears are drying it up while displacing moisture from my head. After a while, my tears are black, and I know these to be the melted remains of the creature. I look over to the couch to see if this "nightmare within a nightmare", for lack of a better term, is over; The spaces are still empty. It was a brutal revelation of the permanence that is never shown in films of the horror genre: that after the villain is vanquished, those who fell by its wrath are still gone, and nothing can bring them back.I woke up in my bed, certain that I had been crying in this world because it felt so real. I looked over to where my roommate lie in her bed and she slumbered soundly. I assumed I wasn't crying out loud, but for a few moments after waking, that emptiness was with me, very real and very strong. I jotted notes as best I could, laid back down, and fell back asleep. I don't know what it means. I think I'm supposed to write it. As a screenplay for a horror film or something. I don't know. It just seemed so real, especially the sense of loss. After all that I'd done and seen and heard that day, it seemed only fitting to end it that way.10:36 p.m. - 2005-01-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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