Wednesday, Oct. 27, 2004 - 17:22

Hello gentle Reader.

Regular and long time Readers will know what an important factor dreams (and nightmares) play in my Life.

I needed to have a rest earlier this afternoon due to fatigue. I must’ve dozed off at some point, and subsequently tumbled into a series of awful nightmares. I don’t actually recall any of them now, other than twisted, dark and blood-stained snippets… but yes, he was in them; Simon. I do recall that much, at least.

On waking up I remembered that squirreled away somewhere was an old note book I’d kept for the purpose of recording dreams (in the days before PCs were like toasters – everybody had one). So I fossicked through cupboards and boxes and dust bunnies until I found it. It was interesting to flick through my writings from over a decade ago, and reflect on long, lost dreams (although it was surprising to discover how many of the dreams I could still recall quite vividly – dreams I remembered without the need to look in the old Dream Diary). But one dream really caught my attention: -

’December 9, 1989

I found myself, along with several close friends, within a dark, derelict old house. The gloom reeked of evil, cold things and my bones seemed to ache under the heaviness of malevolence.

With Michael at my side, we made our way through the twisted, fetid interior of the house. Soon we stumbled upon an old man who appeared to be just as lost as we were, and just as desperate to get out. We suggested that he join our little troupe and he happily agreed.

We continued walking… I looked over my shoulder to check on the progress of the old man and discovered to my horror that he was changing form… his body seemed to bubble and bend and twist as he transformed into Blackness; a humanoid form so dark and cold it sucked all the life out of the immediate area; drained colours room the walls and floors and furnishings; goodness from air, hope from our hearts.

The twisted, towering yet featureless Blackness walked towards us, so we scattered like startled, frightened birds. Michael and I remained together, running down a corridor, the Blackness pursing. We found a flight of stairs that took us up to the next story of the house.

At the top of the stairs was a matronly looking, middle-aged woman with glasses. She gestured to us to follow us, urging us to hurry if we wanted to escape… but even as we approached her, she also shifted, distorted and transformed into the terrifying Blackness.

Michael and I span on our heels and made to run back down the stairs, only to find that the Blackness was waiting for us at the bottom. Then it seemed to sink into the floor and disappear. But relief was brief – for the Blackness emerged from the floor directly in front of Michael and I and it seized Michael in its huge hands, drawing him into it somehow; it’s touch sucking all the colour from Michael’s face as it consumed him…

Michael screamed and screamed, while I remained frozen on the spot.’

Hmmm. A very disturbing dream, even after all these years. I do still recall it, though had long since ‘filed’ it away under ’D’ for ’Don’t Go There’. But there is something else disturbing and significant about this dream, although it would probably not be immediately apparent to you, gentle Reader; the date of the dream: December 9 – the date on which, nine years later, Michael would die.

How’s that for a ’Self-Fulfilling Prophecy’…?

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