Last night it was super hot in my bedroom. It seemed like I could do nothing to cool it off. I turned the fan on high, kicked the covers off and hoped for the best. What I got was nothing short of weird!
See, whenever the temperature in my room creeps past seventy-five degrees, my dreams tend to become much more vivid and walk the thin line between dream and nightmare. More often than not, I'll have a nightmare that's so real that I'll wake up genuinely afraid of what I had been dreaming of. What a wimp I be.
Last night was no different. I ended up having several vivid dreams and one very, very vivid nightmare. I'll detail it now. (We're now entering dream-mode, so everything I say will be narrated as if I were dreaming.)
I'm standing in the town of Roscoe, PA where the sun is bright and the streets empty. While walking the street towards the end of town, the streets begin to skew and look more like Allenport, PA. No matter, as skewed as the streets become, they all lead to the end of town. As I continue my walk, the streets become narrow and wide in an almost heartbeat-esque style. I decide I've had enough with the streets and I take to the railroad tracks. The tracks seem firm enough, neither skewed or twisted, with the path ahead clear of railcars and the view just as clear. However, upon stepping on the tracks, I shift into another parallel reality. It seems that the tracks are a gateway to what is really going on in the little borough of Roscoe, PA. Stepping back off the tracks takes me back to the roads that are still skewing and twisting. While standing on the road, the day is clear and sunny and children are playing while adults tend to their yardwork. Immediately stepping back onto the tracks reveals the children are mercilessly fighting, wearing tattered clothes and generally appearing pauperish. The town has become a slum, with the adults no longer tending to their yards, but sitting in rocking chairs in the middle of their lawns, scratching and clawing towards me, screaming in a strange tongue "fresh meat". To make things even stranger, the adults had exposed pieces of bones, severe wounds, few teeth and spoke in a completely different dialect that I can only describe as "gutterspeak". It looked like a kingdom of the damned, and it was damned horrifying (heh). As I continued along the tracks I noticed a small militia had gathered. This militia looked most dishevelled, apparently suffering heavy losses at the hands of the gutterspeaking undead. Worth noting is that this militia looked like it was carved out of God's image. While all other things around them were dark, dead and dreary, they were bright, with whites and reds and blues draped over their armor. They looked as if they were probably the most high guards or court of a king somewhere. Their leader was badly injured and as the lieutenant sounded the retreat (which took place along the railway) he informed the group that their leader was indeed dying. Now, and perhaps most importantly, since I happened upon this militia I had heard a faint mumbling in my ear to which I gave little concern. As the militia retreated, they were followed and hunted by horrible wraiths and dark riders that perhaps were once part of the honorable militia but had fallen and were corrupted by a foul power. The faint mumbling was becoming louder with each passing moment until a dead scribe with a large book approached me. One by one, members of the militia were falling as they ran. In the wake of the wraiths and dark riders, the scribe then etched their name in the book, instantly raising them from where they had fallen and forcing them into service of this dark army. Hunted had become hunters. While the wraiths, dark riders and scribe passed me by (they had taken no notice of me, so I can only assume I was invisible) I had noticed the mumbling had become a loud beckoning and wasn't being shouted by the scribe. In fact, the scribe's mouth had been sewn shut, indicated by three large stiched X's through his lips. The beckoning was coming from the book. That damned book. (This book was probably the most horrifying part of this dream.) The book had an eyeball (a real eyeball) in the middle of it that searched for life in the general nearby area, so that the wraiths and dark riders would snuff it out in order to enlist another fallen in the undead army. Upon finding life, the eye would become fixed on the person, in a dead-on stare, so that the wraiths and dark riders could find a clear path to the living. I remember distinctly the book shouting a passage from "Saul 21:11 - All living whom encounter the forgotten ones will they too become forgotten." The book would keep reading its' blasted passages aloud, each one horrifying me more than the last. The last chilling moment I can remember in this dream was when the scribe passed me. The book fixed its' eye upon me and refused to blink, giving me the death-stare. You can imagine how terrified I had become. Since I was invisible, however, only the book was able to see me (through some foul power, no doubt) so while the wraiths and dark riders gathered near me, none could see me. After what seemed like an eternity, the wraiths and riders gave up their hunt for me and pressed forward, hunting the remaining militia all the while the eye in the book stayed fixed on me.
I wake up.
Whew! That was too creepy for me. My first thoughts whenever I woke up was "This is PROOF that there are two bibles in this world - the common bible (God's Word, The Light Bible, The Holy Bible --- whatever you want to call it.) - and the dark bible (I immediately thought of "The Necronomicon, from Army of Darkness). What was weird about this book was that the eyeball was always on the right side of the book, when you turned the page, the page that was flipped to the left looked like a normal page would - but you'd think there'd obviously be a hole there due to the eyeball. Weird. It was about 4am so I didn't go back to sleep for fear that the dream would pick up where it left off. I watched repeats of SportsCenter to get my mind off things.
Here's my view from the tracks of the hillside near where the militia was, though this isn't where I encountered the book, I thought I'd throw it in there just to illustrate my point.
I hope this doesn't creep anyone out as much as it did me. I do hope it made for an interesting read.
Crock gone!
