Another Night With What? Part 2
Earlier this week I sent in a submission about a "friend" of mine by the alias/name of Rift (Another Night With What Part 1). I know already some of you think I'm crazy, but I'm not here to get people to believe me. So, please, bare with me until the end.
Alright, so, now that I'm done with the topic of Rift, I'm going to delve more upon the dreams I have experienced. I know some people experience Night Terrors, where pain seeps into their nightmares and they will wake up feeling like their nightmare has left the confines of their mind and have entered reality. I have not had a history of that, even though my little brother has. I've been studious in my research of dreams, and I have found nothing to even closely describe my "nightmares". It was this truth that lead me to believe that spirits were using me as a conduit to take me to the moments of their death. Such pain experienced. If you asked me what it felt like to have a knife pushed through your abdomen, I can tell you. If you wondered aloud what it was like to have bullet driven through your chest, without hesitation I could tell you exactly what the sensation would be like.
I've had many of these dreams over the past two years, but one night I experienced something that drove my blood colder than ice. I had gotten used to the painful dreams, and empathized with every gracious spirit, but this particular night was... something I never want to experience again.
It happened this summer, actually. I believe it was in July, some time after the fourth. I had another bout of insomnia, which didn't really surprise me since I'd rather stay away from the dreams. I had just given up on the computer, since no one was online and I had writers block for my novel. I shut my laptop, placing it besides my bed as I lay down. As I said before, I was living in my parent's basement, and my sister had a turtle (red ear slider, to be exact- we still own him) down there by the name of Lightning. There was a wall that cut through the room the turtle lived in, but the doorway was large and unfinished- if you could even call it a doorway. The turtle always had its light on, since the basement was always cold no matter what time of the year it was. That meant that I could see everything in perfect focus.
During my stay there, I had to move down there because my aunt and grandpa refused to stay down there any longer. Something was turning their electronics on and off, propelling cups from tables, and so many things that they couldn't stand it. Instead, I volunteered to go down there and try it out. I'm telling you, I've experienced a couple of pranks from that poltergeist, but don't get me wrong- this isn't my story. This explanation is just to tell you that the two different beings had different styles, and that what poltergeist was doing all sorts of pranks was not what I experienced that July night.
I was staring at the stairs, which came out from the wall with a separate wall (so a corner of the room was hidden out of sight). I was watching it, feeling like I needed to do something childish, like howling at the moon and running laps around the field next door recklessly. I was just that unusually hyper, and I couldn't keep still.
What made my jitters was when a dark black mist came from behind the cutout by the stairs. I froze, looking at it skeptically, since shadows can grow larger or smaller when you dilate your eyes. It retreated, and by this time I was beginning to notice that it was roughly six-foot-eight, and it didn't move at all like even a dilating shadow. I watched, and it began to come out again, this time far enough to look like a very large figure. Only part of it was hidden, and I'm telling you the shadow was shape-less, but big. I felt all my energy drain instantly, black dots encroaching on my vision. I had tunnel-vision as I struggled to keep conscious. I did not want to be attacked.
The last thing I saw before passing out was the shadow rushing towards me, materializing. I can't tell you much about their appearance, but I do remember one lone detail. I only remember this one detail; a smile. This was the cruelest smile you can imagine. It was... inhuman. It didn't have fangs, it wasn't discolored or abnormally white either. The lips were perfectly formed, naturally a darker shade of pink, but so coldly cruel. It was an inhumanly wicked smile on a male human face. That's all I remember.
After passing out, I had a very odd dream. Now, mind you that it's terribly hard to remember or even talk about this dream. It shook me up to experience it, and even now I doubt telling you will do any good for the memory. However, I'll tell you that from here on, hear me out and try to have an open mind.
As I slipped into unconsciousness, I found myself in a large mansion. I was in a large dining room, almost like those you'd find in movies. It was elegant, bizarre, and the air was thick with something I couldn't quite place at the time.
I remember being approached by a man, and I couldn't move. I remember finding it hard to breathe, my heart was pounding, I was having trouble swallowing, my mouth was dry, and try as I might I could only stand there and stare at the man.
The odd thing was; it was the man with the wicked smile, and yet even now all I can remember is that odd smirk. I stared at him for a long while, straight at his face, but that malicious grin is all I can pull from my memory's depths. He was accompanied by two others, their faces hidden, kneeling at his side.
The man was talking to me, and I remember that his voice was hypnotic, smooth, tempting, and it made me want to listen to what he was saying. Yet what he WAS saying was nothing of the ordinary. He was talking about souls, and more specifically MY soul and what he wanted to do with it. He kept on urging me softly, over and over again for me to join him, to become one of his followers by my handing over the rights to my soul to him. After refusing so many times, curiosity got the best of me and I stared at him. I was so scared, and it felt like an eternity as I stood there, mumbling 'no' over and over again. 'I can't, I won't.' This time the lust for knowledge compelled me to ask him what it felt like to not have a soul.
That laugh is the next thing I remember entirely clearly. It was perfect to match his smile. It was bone-chilling, mad, amused, successful. He reached forward with his hand. I couldn't move as he placed his hand on my head, that smile ever touching those cursed lips.
Nothingness. It's what I imagine death would be like. It's not cold, it is not warm. There's no will, no goals, no dreams, no fears. There are no emotions, no life, no thoughts. The world around me was black, I think, but knowing as much neuroscience as I do, it probably appeared that way because my mind was not processing the world around me. There were no scents, no light, no darkness, no despair, no feeling.
I might sound peaceful to you, hearing that description, but it was as though for that time I was dead. I didn't need, didn't want, didn't lust or aspire. It was just a frozen moment until he removed his hand.
When his hand left my head, I realized in a rush that I was on my knees, staring up at him. I ended up screaming because being in that state for even those few seconds were excruciating. It sounds so serene, not having anything in the world to bother you, but it hurt so much, and left me weeping after he stepped away.
I think he began to speak to me again after that, but the rest of the dream is a blur. I can't recall anything after that. In fact, I forgot it until about a month ago when I was bothered yet again by a dream that was out of the ordinary.
This time the dream was a bit longer and pointed, but I'll cut to the chase. In the end, I was in a shack somewhere in the middle of the mountains, far away from other civilization. The walls were perfectly smooth, only one door that I couldn't get to since I couldn't even move. All I could do was sit there, looking up at a young man's face.
He was leaning over me, angry yet calm. He was deathly calm, but somehow I knew he was irritated. I sat here, meaning in front of me and talking to me as if I had no choice in the matter. He said that I was born like him, that we were the same. He accepted his calling, but now I needed to own up to my heritage and awaken It within me. He told me It will make me more powerful than any human, and It will make me stronger than even he. Except, he wasn't using the word "it"... he was using the word 'demon'. He reminded me of that earlier dream, with the other man saying "Join me- it's your calling".
I can't tell how long I argued with him, telling him why I couldn't possibly be what he was telling me, and denying that I could never even allow myself to be. He was so persistent, staying there in front of my frozen body as he tried to guilt me into it, trying to point out things I did that proved his point. He pointed out how everyone in school tended to stay away from me and call me freak because deep down in their subconscious, they know I was not human. Again, I cannot remember the end of the dream, or how the argument turned out. Did he convince me to give in, or did I stay strong until he gave up and morning chased away the last tendrils of his power?
I know by the end of this you might think me insane, but please, take the time to comment.