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Tom Felton is More Evil than Draco Malfoy

Ready for another heavily detailed dream? Well, I’m putting a warning on this one. WARNING: Contains extremely mature content, such as violence, language, and graphic sexual themes. It is HIGHLY recommended that you do not read on unless you are at least eighteen (18) years or older. I will not be held responsible for minors choosing to read on.

Alright, let’s get this party started. So, it’s been “nightmare season” for me, and let me explain what I mean. I have these long periods of time where I have nightmares every night, extremely graphic, frightening, makes me wake up drenched in sweat, and they affect me physically and mentally during the waking hours. I’ve had these since I was a child, not too young, but still a child. They’re caused by PTSD (thank you, Erin, you filthy whore), so they are not just nightmares. But then I’ll have shorter periods of time where I will have no PTSD nightmares at all, just regular bad dreams, good dreams, and weird dreams. In my adult life, my dreams, nightmares or not, have been EXTREMELY vivid, and not only that, but the likelihood of being lucid has increased.

For those of you who really know me, you know about the significance February has on me. Now that it’s passed, I think we’re easing out of “nightmare season,” because the dream I’m about to tell you was both AWESOME and terrifying. There were only a few parts that really upset me, so without further ado, let’s ramble on.

It’s no secret that I fell in love with Tom Felton after his portrayal of Draco Malfoy in the Harry Potter movies. Of course, I myself was old enough to attend Hogwarts when the movies came out, so it wasn’t until the third movie that my hormones allowed me to drool over him, especially since his hair looked FUCKING AMAZING IN THE THIRD MOVIE! But, like many Draco Malfoy fan girls, it was because of him that I fell in love with Draco, even though he’s a horrible person. I can turn him good all I want in my fan fictions, but canon to HIS universe, according to JK Rowling herself, he doesn’t have any good in him. All of these things considered, I have tons of dreams where I meet Draco and have the BIGGEST crush on him, and sometimes he ignores me when I try to get his attention, sometimes he shows a tiny bit of interest like laughing at my jokes and smiling at me, and then sometimes he full out confesses his feelings for me. And even if I’m like… fifteen in the dream, I still know I’m dating Michael, so I always feel like I’m cheating on him. I need to let myself know it’s okay in the dreams because it’s not real.

However, last night was the very first time I dreamt of Tom Felton himself. Another thing I need to explain is that I have regular areas that my dreams occur in, like in LSD: Dream Emulator, you revisit places like the Natural World, Happy Town, the Violence District, et cetera. One of these places is a huge ass hotel, bigger than it should be, and when I’m there, it’s because I’m with my high school choir on a trip to compete with other choirs. I have this bad habit of not remembering where my room is, not having my key card, not remembering the floor it’s on, having to try and track down the two girls I’m sharing the room with so I can get in, and not being able to pack in time when we have to leave. Since I was in choir with Sempai in my Junior year, she’s usually in these dreams, unless it’s my Senior year, which by then she had already graduated. But she was in this one.

Sometimes the floors in my dreams are at a decently steep slant, making it hard to walk or stand on. Sempai and I were getting coffee at the hotel’s Starbucks, which was on the peak of one of these slants, so we were hanging on to the counter while we ordered. I happened to look behind me to estimate how carefully I would need to walk down it, but I spotted the familiar face of Tom Felton down below (his hair being its natural color, that’s how I knew it wasn’t actually Draco Malfoy), and I gasped so hard, I started coughing, let go of the counter, and Sempai tried to save me, which resulted in both of us toppling down the slope, landing right in front of Tom. After plenty of groans and “ows” from the two of us, I stood to see Tom looking at us. His smile was incredibly friendly, and I think I was in the middle of having a heart attack.

I was shaking, and my voice was very high pitched as I said, “you’re… you’re Tom Felton…!” Sempai, not being as big of a Harry Potter fan as me… or not at all… only vaguely knew who he was. He said, “let me guess, you know me as Draco Malfoy, right?” When I confirmed it, he laughed and continued, “that seems to be the only thing I’m known for.” Even though he was being very nice, it was clear that he didn’t want to deal with another Draco fan girl, and it made me not want to take up too much of his time, so I simply asked for an autograph and a picture together. For some reason, I wanted him to sign my Death Note….? But he only had a sharpie, and before signing the book, he signed my face. XD I was laughing, even if the gesture felt a little passive aggressive, like he wanted to say, “you’re pathetic, go away,” but was too nice to do so.

Sempai disappeared, I think she went to the bathroom, and she had my phone, so I couldn’t have the picture taken straight away. I begged him to allow me to hang around him until she came back, so he did, and I met some of his friends. One guy was a weirdo that wore PVC “sock” puppets on his arms, but they went up to his upper arms like formal dress gloves, and the puppet heads were that of cute snakes. One was purple, and one was green. I don’t think I heard a single word come out of this guy’s mouth, only hisses when he shoved the snakes in someone’s face, and snickers when that person told him to go away. He had curly brown hair, and wasn’t very attractive. He was also very rude, picking on me incessantly because I was a pretty girl (in my dreams, I’m always extremely gorgeous). He’d make the snakes bite my butt, and Tom had to keep telling him to leave me alone.

Then there were a couple of girls, both brunettes, and I think they were sisters. They kept teasing Tom, saying, “ooh, have you got yourself a girlfriend, Tom?” It didn’t seem to bother him, it was like nothing could upset him, he just kept smiling, joking, and being friendly, even when scolding snake guy. None of his friends seemed too fond of me because Tom was now giving me his full attention, soon learning that my interest in him as Draco Malfoy did not stop me from treating him as his own person. I would ask him things about playing the character and what it was like on the set, but I also wondered about the rest of his career and he himself. I think this was refreshing to him, to be treated like a real person instead of a celebrity, though I was still star struck.

Of course, I had to deal with his other fans fawning over him too, and he was like, “every time I just want to have a vacation with my mates, I still can’t get a break.” We ended up chilling outside of the hotel on some chairs with his three friends, but still, I was his focus. Tom seemed very interested in me now as I told him about my boyfriend and what I did for a living, which had him asking me questions that eventually led to discussing our views of the world. He didn’t seemed disturbed when I told him my very extreme ideals, some that I don’t even share with anyone on the internet for safety reasons… why I didn’t filter myself, I don’t know, you’d think that’d be a sure fire way to chase someone away. However, Tom’s ideals were… even more extreme, so much that he had to whisper when he told me about them, for not even his friends knew. He still seemed so friendly, but I was close enough to see this look in his eye, a look of power, hunger for control, and a strong hint that he had a secret life, one that was dark and destructive. It made me ache to know more… did this seemingly kind man actually act on things that were mere fantasy to me?

Sempai found us (I had actually forgotten about her, something that made me feel guilty), and I finally got a picture with Tom on my phone. It was just in time because Sempai came to tell me that Mrs. Gray (our choir teacher) wants everyone to pack so that we were ready to catch the plane back to San Diego. Sempai and I shared a room with one other girl, whom I don’t really remember. Tom didn’t look disappointed to see me go, not until I told him, “I really enjoyed hanging out with you.” He looked shocked, and he said, “hanging out? Like… like as people?” He seemed to be surprised that a fan of his would consider the time spent with him as something so casual. I said, “yeah, you may be famous, but I see your personality, I see passed Draco Malfoy, and I know you’re a person like me and everyone else. I’m honestly going to miss you.”

“You view me as a person?” he asked, and I nodded. I said goodbye to him, shaking his hand, but he took some time letting go of mine, and he didn’t blink as he stared into my eyes. It was a look, not of love or adoration, but of a sort of longing, as if he were looking deeper into my body, seeing my soul, and wanting to analyze it, to find connections with his own, to let it into his world… it was as if he were meeting the first person who has ever shared his views, the first friend he could truly relate to. It was rather psychotic, and I was very upset that I didn’t have more time to pick his brain.

So, Sempai and I rode the elevator to like level sixty-something (the hotel has one hundred floors, and fun fact, floors eighty-eight to one hundred are decayed and corrupted like something straight out of Silent Hill, complete with monsters and everything. Pyramid Head is on floor one hundred, and if you can get passed him onto the roof, you can see nothing but fog, no buildings, no ground, as if the building was impossibly tall. There’s no significance except that it’s safe, and the only way down is surviving those twelve floors again and ride the elevator down, which, by the way, only traveled to one floor at a time once you got to eighty-eight, forcing you to find a different elevator to get to the next one), and we made it back to our room. The girl who shared it with us had already packed and joined the rest of our class waiting to take the charter bus to the airport. Sempai was packing, but for some reason, I couldn’t concentrate, examining the photo of Tom and I on my phone, getting a better look at his face. He had put an arm over my shoulder, my own around his waist, and we were smiling, but behind his very friendly grin, I could see something sinister, just like the look he gave me while we were shaking hands.

Just as Sempai finished packing and started saying, “you haven’t packed yet?! Hurry up or we’ll all miss our flight!” an odd smell slowly came into the room, along with a bluish mist. We both saw it come through the door, which I tried to close immediately, not wanting to find out what the gas was, but the door was too small for the frame, so it couldn’t close (this is a normal occurrence in my dreams). I was horrified when Sempai became engulfed in the gas, and her body turned blue, her eyelids heavy, and she became a mindless zombie, tilting her head at me and advancing. I felt heavy as the gas made its way to me, so incredibly sleepy, and found myself on the floor because I couldn’t support my own weight. Sempai was on the floor too, and she wrapped her hands around my throat, choking me, I couldn’t struggle, I was paralyzed, and I passed out from lack of oxygen.

When I woke up, I was in a van, sitting in between Tom, and one of the sisters. My head was so heavy, but I peered around at my surroundings, seeing that we were in the back seat, and on the sister’s other side were… my now ex-friend, Ariel, for some reason, and Sempai, who also looked confused about where she was. Then there was a rather large space until it came to the middle seats, which had the other sister and snake guy, and in the front were a man and a woman, probably Tom’s parents. Sempai and I both asked where we were, and Tom explained that it had felt so nice to be treated like a real person by people other than his three friends, that he wanted to get to know us better, even though he hadn’t shown any interest in Sempai prior. He told us that he had our luggage shipped back to our homes (which he found the addresses on our state IDs), and had informed Mrs. Gray that the two of us were not going to fly back home with them. Apparently, it took a few hundred dollars to make her okay with this, as she had argued with him, saying that she was responsible for the safety of her students.

I never got an explanation of why Ariel was there, but then again, I never do. Whenever I dream of her, we’re still friends, but I guess in this dream, she was also friends with the two sisters, so she knew Tom Felton, and I didn’t inquire about why she had never told me. This is when… things started getting really weird…

Tom and I became engrossed in a whispered conversation like the one we had earlier. He said that he could see me for who I was, that he had never met someone like himself, and that he was aroused by my personality… yes, sexually. o_O He said, “I can take you away from this world, you know. I could give you everything, give you power over these filthy pieces of trash that litter the planet, give you the power to live the way you want, instead of the way society wants you to live. All I need you to do is be by my side and swear your loyalty to me.”

“What kind of power do you have?” I asked him, absolutely entranced by this new tone of voice, a smooth growl that raised so many red flags that said, “ALERT! DANGER!” But… I liked it. He responded, “are you willing to take the risk and find out?” Common sense told me that this man was not someone I wanted to be involved with, but curiosity told me to say yes. After glancing at the three people sitting on my left, he told me to stay silent and try to be discreet, and he started kissing me. It was not affection, it was not romantic interest, it was not emotional desire… it was lust, dominance, and control. I kissed him back as if I had no free will, but when he broke it, I reminded him that I had a boyfriend. Tom said that this was the way he wanted me to swear my loyalty, and in order to live a new life, I had to make some sacrifices. I didn’t want to betray Michael, and in real life, I NEVER would, but still, my curiosity was too strong.

Telling me again to stay quiet, he had his hand up my skirt, touching me, and his other hand unzipped his pants, pulling them down and exposing himself. I remember gasping, “holy Moses!” upon seeing his penis because it was HUGE. Now, normally I find unnaturally big dicks very unappealing, nasty, and even frightening, but even though his was big, it was not too big, not enough to be counted along side the horrors of oversized wangs in some hentai I’ve seen. It’s like oversized boobs… YUCK! But this… this was desirable. He wanted me to go down on him, but I was afraid of the others seeing, though Tom said not to worry about it. Sooooo…. I did. I’ve been told by many of my boyfriends that I’m great at giving blow jobs, so in this dream, Tom was no exception.

After a few minutes, however, the sister to my left noticed, and she whispered to Ariel and Sempai what was going on. I actually heard these whispers, and my poor best friend saying, “are you fucking kidding me?” She’s always been very uncomfortable with me showing public displays of affection, even something as small as light kisses or hugging, so this was way across the line. Ariel has always been extremely rude, so she said loudly, “hey Kara, are you enjoying sucking on Tom’s lollipop?” This caught the attention of snake guy and the other sister, and I was embarrassed when they looked back, but then they met Tom’s eyes and quickly went back to minding their own business. The sister next to me hissed at Ariel, “you goddamn idiot!” The man and woman in the very front didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care. They had a strange air about them that told me they knew things about Tom no one else did, things that he was soon going to share with me. What his friends knew was to not mess with him.

I noticed Tom glaring at Ariel as she said, “what? She’s sitting there sucking his dick like we’re not even here, and it’s gross!” The sister kept telling her to shut up, so she followed up with, “what’s he gonna do, huh? Tom, you can’t scare me with a fucking glare. Stop pretending you’re intimidating.” I was glaring at Ariel now, too, which did have her a little nervous. In real life, she was the first person to ever say, “Kara’s fucking SCARY when she gets mad,” and it was really hard to scare Ariel, let me tell you. She’s the reason I discovered this weapon of intimidation, which usually works best when face to face with someone. Back to the dream. On top of both of us glowering, Tom was muttering something. “What did you say?” Ariel snapped at him. He kept muttering for a few more seconds, and then smiled, saying, “oh nothing.” Confusion was plain on mine, Ariel’s, and Sempai’s faces, but the sister had left her seat to join the two in the seat in front of us, urging Sempai to do the same. In the mean time, Tom coaxed me into the large space in front of us, pressing me against the back of the seat and covering me with his body… protecting me…

I noticed in the back window a black car that was quickly approaching us. Ariel noticed it too, and she said, “wow, that guy is getting really close.” Then we realized it was driving toward us backward, and my gut told me what it was going to do. I asked Tom, “is this going to hurt all of us?” He said, “the rest of you did nothing wrong.” The black car rammed us hard, but only Ariel and Sempai screamed, and the woman driving even slowed down. The back door of the car opened to reveal three men dressed in black with ski masks on, and they all had guns. They drove so close to our van, they were able to open our back doors, and they snatched Ariel, pulling her in. She was screaming, and as the car slowed down, we all saw one of the men shoot her in the head. Sempai was crying, scared for her life, but my jaw was simply hanging open as Tom closed our doors.

When he returned to me, I asked, “how did you do that…?!” He pointed at the seamlessly plain black cuff on his left wrist, and I saw a very small button and microphone hole on the rim of it… he had had his left arm resting against the back of the seat while glaring at Ariel, and he had been muttering orders to those men to dispose of her. He told me all of this very quietly, not wanting Sempai to hear, though she was too busy crying and being comforted by the sisters, and snake guy was snickering again. Then, as if nothing had happened, he started fucking me, and apparently didn’t even care if anyone else in the car noticed since they knew what would happen if they argued. Apparently, even though his friends didn’t know about his entire secret life, they did know he had men… men he paid lots of money to do whatever he told them to do. In fact, these three people didn’t actually want to stay friends with Tom, they were being forced to.

While we were having extremely violent and kind-of-painful-for-me-but-it-was-okay-because-I’m-a-sadomasochist sex, Tom stabbed my neck with a syringe, injected me with some blue fluid, and I passed out again. He most likely didn’t stop his actions until he climaxed, which I didn’t hold against him later. I had a dream that I was in this nineteenth century village, and it was night time. I was tied up, a masked executioner standing next to me, telling me I had betrayed Tom’s trust, so I was to be punished. The thing I was tied to could be moved around, and at first, I thought the man was going to throw me down the well nearby, but with the help of another executioner, I was lain on a guillotine face down. I forgot to mention that I was watching this in third person, and the version of myself looked more like the real me instead of the hot mama my dream self is.

I was beheaded, and it was so painful, but my head stayed alive. It sat in the basket, and the man propped it up to sit on the neck, and then placed the basket on the ground. A procession of horses were closely following a baby pig, and I cooed at it, until I noticed that then men riding the horses were trying to get the equines to trample the poor thing. I couldn’t turn my neck to look away, so I closed my eyes, but the man held my eyelids open. Luckily, I myself didn’t see the pig’s gruesome death, but my head sure did, and it was screaming and crying. The man told me my head would forever remain alive, and I’d be forced to watch horrible things that I was weak to, such as animal abuse and murder. Then it went black. I came to the conclusion that this dream was forced upon me by Tom using that weird liquid, using it as a warning of what would happen if I really did betray him.

This time I woke up in a large house, brightly lit, very neat and welcoming, and I was lying on a white couch. I was so sleepy and groggy, it took me a moment to realize that the man and woman who were talking to me were the same ones from the van. They were super friendly, telling me that they were so happy to hear that Tom had finally made a true friend. I asked them if they were his parents, and they said no, but those who swore their loyalty to him were all part of his family. They had three children of their own; a toddler boy, a baby girl, and a second baby girl that was only a little bigger than my full grown, extremely fat rat. She needed special care, having been born way too early, and was only alive because they swore their loyalty to Tom in return. Was this man even human?

My fatigue didn’t wear off, but even so, I was asked to look after the children. I felt really sick, heavy, and I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. I noticed there was a 3DS on the coffee table in front of the couch, so I grabbed it and started playing a Pokémon game that doesn’t actually exist, and apparently it was some secret cartridge developed by Nintendo, not a hack or anything. It had different play mechanics, never before seen Pokémon, and was actually really dark for a kid’s game. As I played, I still found my vision blurry at times, and I’d fall asleep with the thing in my hands, waking up periodically to tell myself to save because I kept falling asleep!

Then the very next time I woke up, it was night, dark in the house, and I was on my back in the middle of the living room floor. The baby girl was sitting on my chest, which hurt, so I said, “alright, you’ve gotta get off me, sweetie,” and moved her to the floor. However, she crawled on me again, and I told her once again not to do that. She kept doing it, and I was losing my patience. Alright, I HATE children, but in real life, I don’t hate babies as long as I don’t have to spend too much time around them. I do not believe in violence toward them, nor do I condone murdering them, as I believe they haven’t had the chance to do anything wrong that would deserve such a thing. In the dream, though, I actually wanted to throw the infant away from me… I didn’t have to, however. The next time I moved her to the floor, someone walked up and plunged a fireplace picker straight through her chest. She didn’t even make a sound, just died instantly.

“This thing bothering you?” asked Tom. I wasn’t horrified at the baby’s death, which I think was the first test Tom was giving me… would I betray him by showing empathy for the baby? He was pleased when I didn’t. He helped me off of the floor and gave me something to drink, something that woke me up and made my body feel normal again. The parents entered the room, saw the dead baby, but didn’t give any reaction, asking where the other two were. I had no fucking idea, I had been drugged! I looked around and saw the tiny baby lying in a comfy stroller made for a doll, and I pointed her out. The father picked her up, and the mother said she’d look for her son upstairs, thinking maybe he was in his bedroom. Apparently he was, so mystery solved.

I didn’t understand why they didn’t mourn for the loss of their middle child, but a few more people came to the house, and it became clear that this was some kind of cult, for they all had sworn loyalty to Tom, and actually praised him. Tom introduced me as his queen, and that they were to do whatever I said, and protect me at all costs. In the meantime, I was physically involved with him, spending most of my time in his bed.

Here comes another part, aside from the pig scene, that really upset me. Michael ended up finding out about me sleeping with another man, and I tried to explain to him what was going on, but he wouldn’t look at me, and he wouldn’t talk to me. It… didn’t really help that I was naked, wrapped in a towel, and practically covered in cum. T_T I was completely horrified when Michael took a bottle of some clear liquid and splashed it into his eyes. He did not yell, he didn’t make any sounds, even as his flesh sizzled and was eaten away. The skin was red, bloody, and had deep holes, his eyelids were gone, and both of his eyes were bloodshot, the irises discolored, the pupils red and milky. He smiled at me, though it was clear he was blind. I was sobbing, shaking him and asking why he did that. He still did not speak, but gently dropped himself into the pool we had been standing next to, because I had chased him into Tom’s pool room…? He didn’t move while in the water, and seemed to drown instantly. In real life, it takes four minutes max to drown to death.

I dragged him out, trying to get him to wake up, and I was only a little aware that Tom was watching from the doorway. The love of my life was dead, the last thing in life that he knew was me being unfaithful as a show of loyalty to this psychopath who was a physical embodiment of my own inner evils…

It was another test.

Tom asked me if I hated him now that he took away the most important man in the world to me. As he asked me this, he offered me a piece of chocolate. I stood up, wiped my tears, and shook my head. In real life, if I lost Michael, I would be the exact opposite of calm, and my own life would be in danger. However, in this dream, I managed to shove the memories of Michael aside and forget he ever existed. I took the chocolate, and Tom pat my head, calling me a good girl, and saying he just knew I was the one. I inquired about Sempai’s whereabouts, and Tom told me he had sent her home, threatening her to keep her mouth shut about what happened to us. She was safe, more or less. My old life was gone.

Another place I frequently visit in my dreams is a bakery that’s located on a corner of a really nice street that looks as though it could be located in Germany or Italy. I recognized the area as Tom and I were walking around, getting excited as I knew I had been there before in previous dreams, and when I found it, I dragged Tom into it, telling him I was a sucker for sweets. He said he’d buy me whatever I wanted, that money was not an issue for him, so I ended up getting a shit load of desserts, eating on the way home and saving some for later.

But we didn’t go home. We kept walking until twilight, and we entered a one story house that I had never seen before. I asked Tom why we were there, and he put his index finger to his lips to shush me. We entered through the back door, then walked to the living room where a man and a woman were on a couch watching television. Tom walked behind the man, grabbed the sides of his head, and jerked it to the side, breaking his neck. The woman screamed, jumping up from the couch and backing away from it, horrified as she stared at her unconscious husband (FYI, it’s not possible to break someone’s neck by hand like they show in movies and television, let alone kill them this way). I just stood there curiously, wondering what this was about.

Apparently, the couple knew Tom, as the woman was screaming, “please, Tom, please! We’re sorry! We’re so sorry!” Tom said, “you two betrayed me, [woman’s name]. You attempted to go to the police, didn’t you? I’m glad they didn’t take you seriously, that they thought it was a joke. Still… I don’t tolerate insubordination.” He beckoned me closer, and I obeyed, walking to stand next to him. “Have you ever killed someone, Kara?”

“No,” I replied, “but just like many people, I’ve fantasized about it. I’m not sure if I’m actually capable of doing it.” Tom handed me a hunting knife, the blade already turned out. “I wonder if you can pass my next test,” he purred with a grin. I took the knife in my hands, turning it over and observing the serrated blade. It reminded me of the knife Abigail Hobbs used to kill Nicholas Boyle in the TV series, Hannibal. “She’s going to fight back,” I told him, and he nodded, grabbing the woman’s hair, forcing her to her knees, and yanking her head back. “Cut her throat,” said Tom, his other hand grabbing her wrists, knees applying pressure to her legs so that she was stationary.

I approached her, and she pleaded with me, eyes begging to be spared. She told me I was brainwashed like the others, and that I could kill Tom instead, but I said to her, “no, I’m not brainwashed. We just think the same.” I ran the blade across her throat, making sure to sever the jugular vein, and Tom released her. We both watched her struggling to cover the wound to keep her blood in, gasping, shaking, and gargling all the while. Then she bled out and moved no more. The man was still alive, but also still unconscious. If he woke up, he’d be unable to move, being paralyzed. Tom asked for the knife back, then sat on the floor, took off his bottom garments, and made two large, horizontal gashes in both of his thighs. I was shocked, mentioning that there was a vein in the leg that could cause him to bleed out as well, but he assured me the wounds weren’t deep enough, and gestured for me to join him on the floor.

I didn’t really need to be instructed on what to do, my own fetish took care of that for me. I leaned over him and licked the blood from the wounds one at a time, switching between them to allow them to start bleeding again. He was petting my head, praising me, telling me that the world was ours, but I was shocked when he pulled my hair and shoved me to the floor, cocking a gun and pointing it at my temple. I was frightened at first, but then figured this must be another test, so I calmed myself and closed my eyes. Part of me expected him to actually shoot me, because at this point, it wouldn’t surprise me.

“What am I to you?” he hissed in my ear next to the gun.

“I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted calmly. “In a way, you’re my oppressor, but you’ve also become my lover, my savior, and my mentor. You’re allowing me to fulfill my urges, protecting me from their consequences, and even though you’ve robbed me of certain things I deeply cared about, you somehow still treat me like I’m the best thing that’s happened to you. What’s more, you’ve given me something that I’ve always wanted… someone else like me, someone I can relate to. I can talk to you about anything, and you understand… that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He pulled the trigger, and I flinched, but the gun was empty. He laughed at me.

“You got startled,” he jeered. I said, “of course I did, it’s right next to my ear. I did the same thing when I got my ears pierced.” Tom put the gun away, and I sat up, listening to him tell me once more that I was a good girl, but then he said, “you are the best thing that’s happened to me. I’ve craved someone to relate to as well, I didn’t even have to manipulate you, you’re just another monster like me.”

“All humans are monsters, you and I are just a different breed,” I said, and that made him laugh again. I glanced over his shoulder and saw two people staring in the window, horrified, and I grabbed Tom’s shoulder, saying, “someone’s been watching us…!” He pulled his pants back on and stood up, and the spies ran off. “Lie under the window as close to the wall as possible,” he said. “Keep face down, and if anyone but me enters this room, pretend to be dead.” As I did what he said, he whispered something into his wrist cuff, and then left the room. I admit, I was frightened because I felt like my protection was gone.

There were two gunshots outside, which I assumed killed the two who had looked in on the crime scene. They had already gotten the chance to call the cops, and after two loud gunshots, neighbors surely would panic. In fact, one of them came up to the door, banging on it and calling the names of the couple who lived here, saying that he’d kick the door down if they didn’t answer. I was preparing to play dead, but a third gunshot and a loud thump told me one of Tom’s men had killed him. No other neighbor risked going up to the door, but there were soon sirens, and I heard two cops come up to the house, swearing as they encountered the body on the porch.

“Police! Open up!” shouted one, banging on the door more violently than the neighbor had. After ordering for someone to answer the door two more times, I heard the doorknob rattle, but his partner said, “shh! Something doesn’t feel right… I think we’re being watched–” And just like that, two more shots fired, two more bodies dropping dead. There had been a third officer that stayed by the car as backup, but now he took action, bursting through the door. I kept as still as I could, and I felt him point his gun at me, but he fell for the act as he said, “jesus… what the hell?” A second pair of footsteps forced my eyes open, and I saw Tom stride right up to the officer, shooting him in the head just as he pointed his own gun at him. Then he squatted next to me and gave me a cupcake with a casual, “here you go. Stay put, okay?”

“What about you? I don’t want you getting hurt!” I whimpered. He then gave me a walkie talkie and said, “I’ll give you orders through here. Don’t worry about me, I have snipers surrounding this house. We’ll stir up some trouble for a bit before we go home.” I was pat on the head again, and he left me once more. As time passed, I was hearing sirens, police on megaphones, more shots fired that abruptly silenced their voices, more sirens, helicopters, more gunshots, the sound of the helicopter crashing to the ground… and I ate my cupcake.

“Stay still,” came Tom’s voice from the walkie talkie. “Looks like we got some big dogs. They have scanners that can pick up movement through walls, and they’ll shoot right at the wall to kill you.” I obeyed, now even more frightened for my life. A couple shots were fired, the bullets going through the walls, but they weren’t anywhere near me. More people were gunned down by the snipers, and soon, three of Tom’s men joined me in the room, each positioned at windows. The one next to me put his hand on my head, silently reminding me not to move.

As they fired at officers that came into view of the windows, one of the men got shot in the shoulder, but he didn’t make a sound, and it didn’t seem to bother him. I heard people getting evacuated from their homes, and on the megaphone was a threat to bomb the house. That’s when the walkie talkie buzzed, and Tom’s calm voice said, “run.” I didn’t need telling twice, jumping to my feet and bolting out the back door. The three men followed me, and as soon as I got to the backyard, they stood in front of me, as there were officers stationed right in the yard. They were shot, but did not fall, though blood splattered the ground. Then snipers hidden elsewhere shot the officers, and the three men cleared me to keep running.

“Hide,” said Tom, “don’t let them see you.” I was panicking, hopping a fence and trying to figure out where to go. Shots were fired at me, but they missed, and I sprinted toward a town hall building, running behind it to try and obscure myself by the stone pillars. I felt safe once I got there, until I saw an officer patrolling the building. He sighed, sitting right in front of the pillar I was hiding behind, and he got on his cell to call someone.

“They’re everywhere, we can’t even see them, but they can see us,” he was saying. “There’s no way I’m getting close enough to the action. I don’t even know who to look for. I’m being told there’s a blonde girl, others tell me there’s a blonde man, and I don’t know which way to turn.” I think he was speaking to someone back at the police station or something, but he kept peering around the pillar, so each time he did, I had to jump to the other side. “You think this is the cult that couple was talking about? Maybe they were telling the truth… this is their house, after all… isn’t Tom Felton an actor? Maybe it’s a different guy who shares the same name.”

It was just my luck… the officer had known where I was hiding the entire time, and out of nowhere, he jumped out at me, about to shoot me, but Tom was suddenly right behind him, planting a bullet of his own in the back of his head. “Well, at least you tried to hide,” he told me. He was bleeding from the shoulder, and I pointed it out. Without so much as a wince, he dug straight into the wound with a sickening squelch and pulled the bullet out. There was barely any blood. He invited me to get on his back, saying we were leaving, so I did, and he ran away from the vicinity, though we had been spotted, and we were being chased. I saw shadows of people hopping from roof top to roof top, keeping up with us, and I realized they were the snipers, doing everything they could to protect us. They were very successful.

It seemed like a dead end when we hit the ocean, and we were quickly surrounded. Tom ordered me to hold on tight, and he actually ran on the surface of the water, but it was much faster than any human could run… so fast, in fact, that I was left behind, sitting in midair in the same position. Realizing I wasn’t with him anymore, Tom stopped on a large rock not too far from shore, appearing confused. Then my body zoomed toward him and back into position. “What was that about?” he asked. “Sometimes my dreams fight with me, and I’m unable to go anywhere at high speeds,” I told him. “I think this dream actually glitched me out!” With a laugh, Tom dove into the water, and I was able to cling to him as he swam so fast, not even the helicopters could keep up.

By the time the sun came up, we found ourselves in Hawaii… I guess… Tom stole someone’s hat without them even noticing, and he put it on my head to protect me from the sun. He said it was likely that an alert had been put out for our arrest, but told me not to worry because catching us was impossible. Even so, he didn’t want me to get hurt, so he told me to stay close to him, and if we were recognized, we’d have to run again. If we planned accordingly, we could make it back home with no problem, as no one actually knew he lived there.

“You said you’d take me away from this world,” I said angrily, but he put his arm around me, smiling. “I did. You’re not in that world anymore, you’re in my world. As long as you’re with me, people from that world cannot hurt you, even if you hurt, or even kill them. I’m letting you live your fantasies, you just have to put all of your trust in me. That way, you have just as much power as I do.”

“You seem like something so evil, you could be the son of the devil,” I joked, and Tom laughed. “Oh sweetie, haven’t you realized by now?” he said, and then put his mouth against my ear and whispered, “I am the devil.” I knew he couldn’t be the same one from my other dreams, Mephistpheles was a completely different entity, but Tom was definitely some incarnation of the devil, and now it made sense why he was worshipped. He was our god, and by association, I was now their goddess. The only thing that got in my way was mortality.

After a few hours, we were recognized, so I was on Tom’s back again as he ran. He seemed to be having fun with this, and something told me he did this often, just to amuse himself. He said to me, “ready for things to get hot?” and without waiting for an answer, he started climbing up a FUCKING VOLCANO. You guys know that I’m TERRIFIED of volcanoes, right? Fire, lava, anything super hot, NOPE. So I was shouting at him, but he simply laughed and told me to keep hanging on tight. To my surprise, even as we got to the mouth of the volcano, it wasn’t that hot. “If you let go of me, you’ll burn alive,” he warned, and he leapt into the lava. It felt like warm water, and to ensure my safety, I was clinging to Tom tighter than I ever had.

He found a tunnel at the bottom of the volcano, and we went through it, coming to an underground cave that existed due to a trapped oxygen bubble underground, so we were no longer in the magma. Still, I had to keep hold on Tom, or else the surrounding temperature would kill me. He easily hopped along rocks in little magma pools, gaps in the ground, we went up and down slopes, through more tunnels, and in no time at all, the bodies of magma became less and less, and the air became cooler, Tom said I was no longer in danger of burning alive, and we climbed up a wooden ladder, and…

We were back in his mansion.

Tom contacted his men to make sure there were no casualties, and it was confirmed that they were all safe. Then Tom surprised me with something. He said, “I didn’t rob you of everything you cared about…” Curious, I followed him to his bedroom, and I gasped, seeing my rats in their critter nation. They were completely unharmed, and I was squealing, jumping for joy and hugging Tom.

Then the dream changed. Tom was gone, I was in a different room, and I was curled up in a fetal position, floating in midair, and unable to control which direction I went. I slowly floated along like a ball sitting on the surface of a pool, only changing direction when I bumped against a wall. Michael was back, and I told him I was sorry that I cheated on him and caused him to kill himself. He did not forgive me, saying that a monster like me deserved a monster like Tom. I asked where Tom was, and Michael said, “back in his home with our rats, our children, Kara. You’re trapped in this room, this purgatory I created for you. You’ll never see him again, you’ll never be able to leave, you won’t be able to move… he’ll think you ran away from him, and he’ll kill our rats.”

“He’d never do that to me!” I cried, but Michael said, “he would if he thought you betrayed him.” I told him that Tom would search for me first, but Mike said he’d never find me. Then he said goodbye and left me in this room, floating slowly and aimlessly, bumping gently against the walls, and crying my heart out.

Then I woke up, made my way to the bathroom, and threw up in the toilet.

Can you imagine if I met the real Tom Felton and told him about this dream? I’d be able to write a book called, “How to Lose a Guy in One Hour.” I mean, I really did enjoy many parts of the dream, but the parts with the pig and Michael… I can’t get the image of Michael’s acid burned face out of my head… that smile… those eyes still wide open even after death… and that last scene where I was clearly being punished for my actions…

The real Michael told me my mind hates him. My mind is just going to have to deal with the fact that I love him. Man, though… what a dream.

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I Lost Apple Bloom at a Concert

(This entry says I wrote it on the 14th… but it’s the 13th… I WROTE IT TOMORROW!!!)

What. The. Fuck. This was the weirdest dream I’ve had in a long time… I remember many details, but it’s like… I don’t even know where to start! I guess I’ll just… I’ll try to keep everything in the right order, but I may not be able to remember everything that happened exactly when it happened.

So… I have an ex friend named Ariel, but she appears in my dreams a lot. You see, in the last year that I knew her, she just became this horribly compulsive liar, was doing drugs, skipping beauty school even though she was paying to go there, and overall, became a bad friend. I mean, she always had problems with lying and skipping high school, but it got way worse. So, in my dreams, she’s the Ariel that I remember being a good friend, and this dream was one of those. Now, I know nothing of her now, so I don’t know if she likes My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, but apparently she did in this dream. And you won’t believe where we went…

We went to a concert. But it wasn’t just any concert. The mane… seven? From the Equestria Girls universe came to our universe to play an exclusive concert that only MLP fans knew about. So, what I mean by seven is that it was Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Sunset Shimmer. Both Dash and Sunset Shimmer were on guitar. The problem was, in our universe, their magic of friendship didn’t work, because there’s no magic here, and they hadn’t counted on that. But I’ll get back to that in a moment.

Apple Bloom wanted to see the concert too, since, of course, her universe knew about it because Twilight had to be there. A few other ponies had come as well, but none of the mane six. In fact, it was a random pegasus that brought Apple Bloom to us, because apparently Ariel and I had somehow made an agreement to foalsit her at the concert, but the pegasus couldn’t stay. Apple Bloom was a bit nervous to be with us, especially since we knew her, but she didn’t know us, and I’m sitting there like, “I hope she doesn’t figure out that I made her a serial killer…” The odd thing was, she had a cutie mark, but it was a sparkly cloud with a happy face. Even that would be better than that stupid shield the Crusaders have, huh? Oh, and Apple Bloom wasn’t wearing her bow, but a hat that Babs Seed lent her… I don’t know why.

So, the Rainbooms performed, and because everyone loved MLP, they liked it despite the fact that they couldn’t use their magic, which shocked them. By the time the concert was over, they seemed really upset. Sunset Shimmer was trying to be the positive one, telling the others that it was okay, and that everyone liked it anyway, but there was no cheering them up. In fact, poor Applejack was so upset, she cursed for the first time in her life. She said, “everything I thought I knew was just bullshit.” Then… for some reason, she turned into Vinyl Scratch. And Ariel and I were all like, “oh! That makes sense! No wonder there are all those pictures on the internet showing AJ as Vinyl Scratch! Because they’re the same pony!” Of course, this isn’t actually true. XD I guess, in my dream, it was assumed that AJ and Vinyl had never been seen in the same place at the same time, so there was a theory that they were the same pony, and Vinyl Scratch was who AJ became when she didn’t want to be herself anymore.

Anyway, after the concert, Ariel, Apple Bloom, and I were walking around the merchandise hall (because concerts have entire halls like a convention instead of just a kiosk, didn’t you know?), but Apple Bloom was so small, we lost sight of her. So we’re running around trying to find her, but we got distracted by a room filled with sweets, and you know me, I wish I could eat nothing but sweets for the rest of my life, so I was stuffing my face with candy, cookies, and cake. Ariel wasn’t being such a pig about it, which was odd, because in real life, she was definitely a pig. We finally found her, and had to board this magical… flying bus train…? So that we could get her back to her own universe, but we accidentally missed the main one, and had to board the second one… which wasn’t the right one…

There were a lot of shady people, and apparently they all thought Apple Bloom was a stuffed toy, because they all scared her to the point where she wouldn’t talk. It became clear that this wasn’t the right magical flying bus train when the conductor started warning us about the things that normally happened on this line… the first was that it went REALLY FUCKING FAST. Did I mention that these things had no roof? Yeah, so Apple Bloom’s hat flew off, and she was like, “Babs is gonna kill me!” We had to hang on to that filly for dear life, too, afraid that she’d be blown away! But once again, we were distracted…

All of a sudden, we were in this pitch black tunnel, and surrounding us were pixels of every single color, which we could feel as tiny vibrations as we touched them, and when we touched them, we could hear the most wonderful, beautiful, calming music in existence. The pixels then filled the tunnel so that they were passing through our bodies, and the visual experience was so hypnotizing. I remember saying, “I can feel the music!” I sounded like some stupid hippy junkie, but it was true. The little pixels would hit my body, and the vibrations were so therapeutic, it was like Maynard James Keenan was in the same room and singing just for me. Hey, a girl can dream, okay?

After we got through the tunnel, the surroundings were still dark, and it seemed like we were in a completely different universe. We were all still a little zoned out from the pixels, and Apple Bloom looked more like a stuffed toy than ever, so when we tried to speak to her, people would laugh and say, “those stupid pony freaks think their toy is real.” Then the conductor said, “make sure to protect your children here, folks… they might get taken by the Snatcher. Keep your eyes peeled, and look the Snatcher right in the eye to chase him away, but he’ll come back. Stay alert.” Staying alert was a difficult task when we all felt like we had taken a shit load of sleeping medication. Ariel and I held onto Apple Bloom, squinting around for anything that might take her, because we had no idea what the Snatcher looked like. We finally saw him when he tried to take her. He was sticky, pitch black goo that moved around quickly, though he looked like the shadow of goo, not something actually material. He had two, beady white eyes, and when he tried to take a child, he’d lash out to attempt to stick to it and pull it back into the darkness.

Ariel and I kept trying to follow him, but he was too fast, so eventually we had Apple Bloom in the middle of us, and we were back to back so we could meet his eyes. We managed to fend him off a few times, but right before we finally exited the Snatcher’s territory, he got the little filly, and we both started freaking out. A few other people had lost their children, and were shouting at us for joking around, still believing that our baby pony was a toy. Those of us who had lost someone were dropped off in the Snatcher’s territory, and we were told that we had to find where the Snatcher took them. He wouldn’t kill them, but would hide them in other universes, so we had to go to those universes and locate them… but finding them wasn’t going to be easy.

First we had to watch out in the distance for any sign of our young companions through a crowd of people and creatures that the Snatcher had placed as decoys. Ariel and I were still getting made fun of for looking for a stuffed pony… But then we saw Apple Bloom briefly as she ran down a hill and vanished in the crowd, so we sprinted ahead of everyone else to get to the area where we saw her, and there was a huge box of wood shavings with items sticking out. A couple people found their kids in here, as it was really deep, and I spotted a bit of pinkish red, which I grabbed, but this was a life sized Apple Bloom that actually was just a toy. When we tossed it back and remained upset, people started thinking we were crazy. I told Ariel, “if I don’t get her back to Ponyville soon, Applejack is going to be horrified! She’ll never trust me again!!” Because… I knew her or something? I have no idea. That’s when I realized I was never actually informed on how to enter their universe, which made me panic more.

The next trial was weird, and I find it insulting that my subconscious would do this to me. We had to get through an obstacle course filled with drugs. Like fumes from burning crap, needles, pills, whatever that shit comes in. The point was to “tempt” everyone, distract them from not looking for their kids. Apparently I was the only one who had never had a drug problem. Ariel had many times, so I ended up losing her to a room where everyone was smoking pot. People kept falling for the temptation, and as I passed the junkies, they were like, “man, you gotta try this, this is some good shit…” I had to keep telling everyone that I wasn’t like them, that I didn’t do stupid stuff like that. The hard part came when I had to climb a wall covered in needles with various drugs. I wasn’t good at climbing, and I’m like, “are you fucking kidding me?” It was hard enough not to prick myself with needles when I’m sewing… but I remembered that this was to save a filly, and that was extremely important to me.

As I climbed, I did manage to stick myself a couple of times, but not deep enough for anything to enter my blood stream. I’d actually tear the needles off of the wall and toss them to the floor for the junkies to fight over. By the time I was over, I had numerous needles that I had to pick from my body, but I wasn’t feeling too sick, so I knew that not enough got into my system to where I’d be in danger of addiction… or worse. I encountered this tall stick monster that was holding a big bucket of water. In the bucket, I saw a pinkish red color, and I lunged to pull out poor Apple Bloom. She was fine, apparently the water was liquid oxygen. O_O The monster sneered at me, but I wasn’t sure why, and I carried the sodden pony away, ending up in an empty area that looked a lot like the Violence District in LSD: Dream Emulator.

I asked Apple Bloom if she was okay, but she just stared at me, grinning. Then she lifted up a hoof, and I saw a blue, circular sticker, which I pulled off. To my horror, Apple Bloom disintegrated. On the underside of the sticker, it said, “GOTCHA!” and I yelled in anger. On the spot where the fake Apple Bloom vanished was a rolled up piece of parchment, so I took it and read it… it was very loopy handwriting that gave me directions where to go, so I took the street it told me to follow, and went on from there. I think I was the only one who got through the drug trial.

By the time I got to my destination, I was, once again, in pitch blackness, but I kept walking straight. Finally, it cleared, and I was in a forest. Still walking, I exited the forest, and came to a cabin, in which I said, “no way.” Can you guess where this is going? No? What if I told you a giant man with a long, shaggy beard came out to greet me? Yup. I was in the Harry Potter universe. This wasn’t the first time. Not only that, but I had been aged down. I could tell because I was much thinner, my hair was a little longer, and the tooth I had gotten pulled a few years ago was back. Not only that, but the two teeth that got root canals when I was sixteen had no fillings, so I was younger than sixteen. My hair was blonde, I was the same height as I am now… so my only conclusion was that I was fourteen.

For some reason, Hagrid, as well as pretty much everyone else at Hogwarts, were aware that the Snatcher had dumped something that wasn’t supposed to be in their universe… into their universe, so I was expected. I was still a Muggle, though, so many charms had to be lifted in order for me to even be able to see the castle. Since I was a Muggle from a different universe, this didn’t count as exposure. Not only that (I say “not only that” a lot), they were completely aware that they were in a book. Hagrid explained to me that it was a couple days after the second task of the Twiwizard Tournament, so I realized that I was in the fourth book. That explained why I was fourteen. It was strange, because, even though the characters knew they were in a book, they didn’t know how the book would end, so Hagrid told me, “I know ye’ve read the series and all, but don’t go interferin with the plot, yeh hear? Don’t go tellin everyone what’s gonna happen, or’ll that’ll change the book.” Me: THIS IS SO COOL!!!!

I was dressed in robes to blend in, but still, everyone knew who I was and why I was there. I attended some classes, because in order to find what I was looking for, I had to answer questions about their universe. When I was in Potions, the Slytherins were laughing at me, ya know, cause I was a Muggle, and I was FASCINATED WITH EVERYTHING THEY WERE DOING BECAUSE IT WAS AMAZING!!!!! I went up to Pansy Parkinson and said, “ya know, I’ve heard you Slytherins aren’t very pleasant.” But I smiled at her because I already knew everything about them and what would happen. Though, when I saw Draco Malfoy, I couldn’t help but smile at him because… well, I always fall for him in every dream I have with him in it. I think I saw him smirk, but I wasn’t sure if that was him flirting back, or if it was because he thought I was scum.

Apparently there were some rules to having me in their universe. Time was actually stopped, though the characters on the Hogwarts grounds were in motion for the sake of helping me. They were unable to speak of me after I left, even if they remembered me, so Rita Skeeter wouldn’t be able to write about me. It’s not that they weren’t allowed to, it was that they couldn’t. It was weird. I decided to follow the Gryffindors around, hanging out with, you guessed it, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. There were times when I had to stick my fist in my mouth and say, “must! Not! Interfere! With! Plot!” Transfiguration was cool, and Hermione was extremely impressed with how much I knew, and I told her, “well, it was you who taught me a lot of it.” I was disappointed that I wasn’t able to do magic myself, even when Harry tried to let me use his wand. I said to him, “I didn’t expect much. I am a Muggle. In my universe, magic doesn’t even exist.” He and his friends were all fascinated by this information, but Harry remembered a time when he thought magic didn’t exist too.

After Professor McGonagall had me answer questions about events that had happened in the first three books, I hung out with the trio outside, even though it was kind of cold, it being February. I explained to them who I was looking for; a talking adolescent female pony with pinkish red mane and tail, and yellow hide. I told them that she wouldn’t look like a normal pony, that her head and body shape would be much different, and her eyes would be big and expressive. I ended up drawing a picture of her. Then Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle came up to us and started jeering about “the great Harry Potter mingling with a Muggle from an inferior universe.” Harry and his friends were about to defend me, but little teenage me couldn’t help but go up to Draco and start flirting with him. I told him he was cute, and his expression looked a mix of disgust and flattery. Harry did not look happy, and when the Slytherins had left, he asked me what that was about. I said, “to be honest, I’ve always had sort of a crush on Draco, especially after seeing who played him in the movies.” Hermione and Harry both asked, “there are movies based on our book series?” and Ron asked, “what are movies?” It was super weird when Harry later confided in me that he had sort of a crush on Draco too, and I was like, “am I in the right universe? Are you sure this isn’t a fan fiction?” He told me that his character was written to have a crush on Cho Chang (I couldn’t tell him about Ginny), so he had to do whatever was written about him, even if he was aware of his true feelings. I said, “it must suck to not have any free will unless universes collide,” and he nodded. But he said it wasn’t so bad, because he did like Cho a lot, too, since she wasn’t an ass like Draco was.

I managed to pass all of the tests I had to go through, but there was one final trial. I guess you don’t have to have magic blood to ride a broomstick? So I was to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team in a game of non-magical Quidditch, which had something to do with long sticks with foam at the end, looking like giant Q-tips… I DON’T KNOW, but I was really bad at it. I ended up saying, “it’s not my fault! I can’t move well in my dreams!” We ended up losing against the Slytherin team, so my search for Apple Bloom couldn’t continue. The thing was, no one knew where the filly was, not until I completed a series of events to unlock that information… so instead, they had me swim in the lake with a bunch of small tentacle creatures that would latch onto me, which stung. It was like they were just balls of jellyfish tentacles. I was supposed to collect them without getting stung, but I couldn’t manage that either! Afterward, I took a break at Hagrid’s.

I ended up asking him, “listen… something really bad happens at the end of this book… it’s a matter of life and death… am I still not allowed to tell anyone about it? Not even Dumbledore?” His expression became more serious, and he allowed me to inform him that Voldemort returns. He was horrified, naturally, and I told him the entire story of what happens in the maze, Cedric Diggory’s death, the graveyard, and I was about to tell him about Barty Crouch Jr., but the sky had suddenly grown dark. It was weird, because, since time was stopped, it wasn’t possible for it to be night time. Hagrid said he made a mistake by allowing me to tell him that, and we ran outside of the cabin. Every character, including him and I, had chains coming out of our chests, a metal loop at the end, and they were floating in the air horizontally. He told me I had to find Apple Bloom’s chain and leave this universe quickly.

To my great surprise, Draco found her first, and he ended up carrying her to me. She was shaking in fright, and when I took her, Draco was giving me this look, like he knew something bad was going to happen, and he didn’t want to stay. A hole formed in the ground, trying to suck me in, and I gripped Apple Bloom’s chain loop tightly in my hand, but Draco didn’t look like he wanted me to leave him, so I took his chain loop as well. Hagrid shouted at me, saying I couldn’t take anything bad into another universe, or I’d upset the balance, and we’d be stuck between dimensions forever, but the three of us were sucked into the hole.

It was dark, and we seemed to be underwater, but were able to breathe. I was trying to tell Draco that he didn’t have to be bad, that he could come with me. We were still stuck between universes, so my age hadn’t returned to normal yet. In fact, Draco’s hand was clasped around his tie, which he had taken off, and the other end was stuck where the hole had been. He told me he didn’t want to be away from me, because I guess he had fallen for me or something (T_T cliché), but he didn’t want me to be stuck in limbo forever. Still, he also didn’t want something bad to happen in his universe. He ended up kissing me, and then whispered in my ear, “come fix it.” I still had a firm hold on his chain, but when he used his wand to open the hole back up, as it hadn’t fully closed, the blast forced me to let go of, not only his, but Apple Bloom’s as well. I was shot back into his universe without either of them. This had broken so many laws of nature, time resumed, but the sky remained dark.

All of the characters had free will, but the written events still had to happen. They could speak and interact with me, but I still couldn’t actually be written into the story. Time kept trying to stop again so that it wouldn’t upset the book, but I wanted to, not only save Draco and Apple Bloom, but save the Harry Potter universe as well. Draco had told me to fix it, so I was going to try.

Ready for another cliché event? Harry ended up falling for me too. I knew Draco would be upset, but I guess I went out with Harry. This is like a cringe worthy fan fic where the author writes themselves as the character’s love interest. I told Harry I wish I could’ve gone to the Yule Ball with him, actually made it fun instead of unpleasant, but he said that might’ve kept him from finding out Hagrid was half-giant before Rita could write about it in the Daily Prophet. He asked me what happened with Draco, and I told him he wasn’t actually that bad, that he does bad things in the later books, but him falling for me had changed it somehow. I explained to Harry that I needed to speak to Dumbledore, but I wasn’t able to, as time started to speed up, and it was almost the third task. Actually, I had to hold Harry’s hand as tightly as I could, because he was written to enter the maze, and even though he wanted to stay with me, he had no control over what his feet were doing.

I ended up screaming at him about what happens, that Alastor Moody was not the real Moody, the real one was in his trunk with the many locks. The imposter had put Harry’s name in the Goblet of Fire, and the Twiwizard Cup in the maze had been turned into a Portkey. I explained about Cedric’s death, and Harry ended up saying, “well, if I don’t go, Cedric’s still going to get sent to the graveyard and die!” I told him, “I know, and it’s horrible, but if you go, Voldemort will return because he needs your blood to complete the ritual! That’s why I need to tell Dumbledore what’s going on! You cannot enter that maze!” He was trying his hardest to allow free will to trump his written actions, but just then, another hole opened in the ground, and Draco came out, still holding Apple Bloom. He looked really upset that I was with Harry, but I said, “it won’t matter after I leave your universe, I have to take Apple Bloom back home, and then I have to go home!” Both Harry and Draco said they wanted to come with me, that it was the only way to make sure Voldemort didn’t return, and that Draco could be turned good. The hole was still open, trying to suck me back in because the filly and I didn’t belong there, but both boys latched onto me as tightly as they could, and we were all taken away.

I said that I didn’t know how to get to the MLP universe, I didn’t know how to willingly change universes at all. We weren’t falling, but swimming in the water that existed between dimensions. That’s when Draco and Harry started arguing about who deserved to be with me, and I told them my real age, that I would be an adult once I entered a dimension that would return me to age twenty-six. They started to wonder if they’d get turned into adults if they entered my universe, but I couldn’t be sure whether they’d be seventeen, or if their age would be determined by the epilogue at the end of the seventh book. Then I also told them that I actually had a boyfriend back home, but said to Harry, “I don’t think it’s me you should be focusing on. Isn’t there something you want to tell Draco?” This led to an embarrassing conversation between the two teenagers as we searched for Apple Bloom’s universe. There seemed to be giant bubbles with images in them, giving me a preview of each universe. It was night time in all of them.

After Harry confessed that he had a crush on Draco, there was an absurd suggestion of a polygamous relationship between them and me, but I interrupted by telling them I found three bubbles, but wasn’t sure which one was the MLP universe. All three images were exactly the same, which I actually don’t remember what they were. We entered the first one, and I felt a weird sensation as I was becoming a cartoon. Apple Bloom suddenly became her Equestria Girls version, and when I looked back at the boys, they were drawn in that style, WHICH WAS WEIRD. And don’t ask me why Apple Bloom hadn’t been a human in the human universes, because she just wasn’t, dreams don’t make sense.We all ended up falling pretty hard onto the ground in the middle of nowhere, but I found a puddle and looked at my reflection. I was now in my late teens, as were the boys, but I was cradling a younger teenager that was Apple Bloom.

“Is this really what I look like here?” she asked, looking in the puddle and feeling her head. “Why’s my head so big?!”

“This is the wrong universe,” I told Harry and Draco. “How do we get back into limbo?”

“I managed to find the bubble to our universe to get back,” said Draco.

“We don’t belong here, maybe we can try to make one of those holes open up like before,” said Harry. Even though Apple Bloom was only a little shorter than me, I still hung onto her because I knew she’d become a pony again later. Both wizards started casting spells so that the EG universe would expel us, and they finally managed to do it before any of the EG characters could walk by and see us. Once in limbo again, we were still drawn in that style, but after we entered the second MLP bubble, we all became ponies. I was now a young adult, and looked like the pony version of myself that I drew. We all landed in a fountain, and it was definitely Ponyville, but the fountain had been damaged, and the entire town looked abandoned. Apple Bloom stayed close to me, but when the three of us humans tried to walk, we were having immense trouble. Not only that, when I looked around and saw who was in the vicinity, I said, “uh oh.”

It didn’t take long for us to be surrounded by seven ponies that I recognized. Apple Bloom was shocked to be looking at herself, only the other one still had her bow. Pinkie Pie and Babs were there, but so were my versions of Marble and Limestone, as well as Minkie Pie.

“Oh god, we’re in the Muffins universe,” I told my group. “I didn’t even think this could happen.”

“What’s the Muffins universe?” Harry asked.

“This is Ponyville, but why does it look so different?” said Apple Bloom. “Why is there another me, and why…” She spotted the other Apple Bloom’s cutie mark; an apple stabbed with a knife. “Kara, what’s going on?”

“This is a fan fiction I created,” I explained, nervous as the bakers eyed us in suspicion. They didn’t look like they wanted to welcome us. “In this universe, all seven of these ponies are cannibalistic murderers.”

“Even me?! And Babs too? Pinkie Pie…?!” said Apple Bloom in horror. The wizards behind me, who had been turned into unicorns, weren’t very happy either, having not known that I had a dark side.

“It’s just fiction! But… I have a feeling that, now that we’re in their universe… this could get very real…” I said. Apple Bloom pointed out that Inkie and Blinkie Pie resembled Marble and Limestone Pie, but she didn’t recognize the last one. I told her that Minkie Pie was created before Maud, so she was Pinkie’s sister instead of Maud Pie.

“Who is ‘Maud Pie?'” were the first words that Pinkie spoke, her voice actually being my impression of her.

“Why’re there two of me?” said Muffins Apple Bloom, also in my voice.

“Listen, we’re not a threat, okay? We’re all from different universes, and I’m actually the creator of this one!” I tried to tell them. Babs looked ready to start wailing on me, and I was terrified, because I had made her really strong, but Inkie Pie stopped her.

“Minkie, do your thing,” she said. Even though I created her, seeing her face to face was actually just as terrifying as I made her sound. I knew what she was doing, and we stared into each other’s eyes.

“I created you,” I told her softly. “I based you off of my own past. I’m the reason you’re so troubled, why you were locked up, but I’m also the reason you got out, got reunited with your family, gave you friends, and gave you something to be happy about. I gave all of you bakers your personalities. If you kill any of us, all of our universes will be damaged. If you kill me, your universe will be stuck in time. Haven’t you wondered why it’s so dark?”

“We thought that was odd, yes,” she replied. It was weird hearing my voice come out of these ponies… which reminded me…

“You know I’m not lying,” I said in Minkie’s voice, and everypony froze. “You know I’m not lying because you are me. I gave you the power to tell when somepony is lying because I can do it too, just not as well as you. You know I’m being honest because I don’t lie.” Then I switched to Derpy’s voice, looking at the pegasus. “Derpy’s Minkie Pie’s friend, so Derpy trusteds her when she trusteds somepony else!”

“Wow!” exclaimed Derpy, clapping her hooves.

“Wowie zowie!” I exclaimed in Pinkie’s voice, which caused the party pony to gasp loudly.

“WOWIE ZOWIE!!!” she repeated.

“Ya really created us?” Babs inquired in astonishment.

“Well, for six a ya, I only created certain aspects,” I explained in her voice. “In your canon universe, you’re not serial killers, and crime doesn’t even really exist.” I switched to Inkie Pie. “I did not create Marble or Limestone, but I gave them these appearances and personalities.”

“My name is Marblestone,” Inkie Pie corrected.

“Only because I accidentally confused your name with Limestone’s,” I replied, speaking in my normal voice now. “You are originally Marble Pie, but because of my mistake, you’re Marblestone Pie. Both of your canon versions look completely different, and Marble is… well, the exact opposite of you, Inkie. Minkie Pie is the only one of you that I completely created. The rest of you are just my versions of the originals.”

“WHO IS ‘MAUD PIE??!!'” Pinkie demanded, and I shook my head.

“Your original third sister that was created after I made Minkie. Be glad I didn’t give you a Maud, because she’s really boring.”

“Kara, I don’t like this place! I wanna go home!” said Apple Bloom.

“That’s my original voice?” asked Muffins Apple Bloom. “Pretty close, I guess…”

“She’s right, though, we really do need to leave. Minkie, I know you believe me,” I said, and she nodded.

“She’s telling the truth,” she told the other bakers. “Though, I think you’ve figured that out by now.”

“How are you going to get back to your universes?” Blinkie Pie demanded, and I laughed at the bossy attitude I had given her.

“Harry and Draco need to use magic from their universe to open up another portal,” I said, looking back at the stunned stallions, but then they quickly hopped out of the fountain. Harry was patting his body.

“Where’s my wand?” he wondered, but saw Draco’s horn.

“I think it’s on your head,” he said, “you’re a unicorn.”

“So are you!” Harry laughed. “Um… Expelliarmus!” A spark of red light hit Draco, and he was thrown backward, but there was nothing to Disarm. “Oops! Sorry!”

“Magic doesn’t work that way here,” I told them. “There are no incantations, not like that anyhow. But that’s perfect, maybe that’ll kick us out.” I turned to the bakers. “Stand back, I don’t want you getting sucked into limbo too.”

“Wills you ever comed back?” Derpy asked sadly.

“I can’t promise anything, but maybe.” They all looked rather disappointed, and I was too. If I stayed in this universe, it’d give me a chance to actually find out what it feels like to actually kill someone without consequences, that way I could understand these characters better… then again, even though I was a pony here, I loved animals way too much. I don’t think I could kill one… but they didn’t look like ponies from my universe. What a conundrum.

Reducto!” cried Draco, blasting a patch of dead grass and dirt.

Stupify!” Harry said, though he didn’t Stun anything because there was nothing to Stun, just singed the grass. They both looked at each other.

“It feels weird, it’s weaker,” Draco complained, and Harry nodded in agreement.

“Maybe if we cast the same spell at the same time in the same place, it’ll open a hole,” he suggested. “But what spell should we use?”

“Harry, Draco doesn’t have as much practice with certain spells you’ve learned this year to get you through the third task,” I said. “Try the Disarming Spell again.” Both unicorns aimed at the place in the grass that Draco had damaged, and in unison, they shouted, “Expelliarmus!” I heard the bakers gasp as a hole opened, and I held onto Apple Bloom again as we were getting sucked toward it.

“I’ll try to visit you guys!” I shouted at my characters. They waved, and the four of us were plunged into limbo once more.

“I can’t believe ya made me a serial killer!” Apple Bloom shouted at me.

“Actually, it wasn’t me, it was the guy who originally made Pinkie Pie a killer. I just added onto it,” I told her. “Don’t worry, it won’t affect you or your universe in any way.”

“So, this one must be it, then?” asked Harry, and I nodded. We went into the last bubble, and landed in the same exact fountain, but it was intact, and Ponyville was alive and unharmed.

“Woah, what a difference…” Draco muttered. We were once again surrounded by ponies, but this time, it was the mane six, a few background characters, and both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. I felt exhausted, releasing the filly in my hooves, and she ran to Applejack.

“What took y’all so long?!” she barked at me. “We were worried sick!”

“I had to ask the princesses for help, they only just got here!” Twilight added.

“We had a huge mishap,” I said. “Please forgive me, I had to do a lot just to save her from being trapped in another universe.”

“It ain’t her fault,” Apple Bloom said. “She really did keep me safe… actually, most of it was pretty fun!” Celestia addressed me.

“These two stallions are not from here, are they?” she said, and I shook my head.

“I don’t expect you to know where they came from, they’re from the Harry Potter series.”

“Which one?” the princess laughed. “The book series? The movie series? Or one of the countless fan fictions?” I was shocked, but smiled.

“The original book series, the fourth book to be specific… but…!” I had just remembered. “I needed to tell Dumbledore something! Cedric Diggory is going to die, if he hasn’t already–”

“You’ve interfered with the plot?” she asked sternly. “No wonder everything is off balance… didn’t they warn you not to do that?”

“Yeah, but… Draco wanted me to change it… and no one else wants Voldemort to return either,” I said. Celestia shook her head, looking back at her sister.

“I’m going to need you to help this girl get back to her own universe, Luna,” she said. “I’m actually on very good terms with Dumbledore. I’ll return these two wizards, and I’ll have a talk with him.”

“If we return, we’re going to act as we were written to do!” Harry protested.

“I possess magic much different than wizards in your universe do,” she told him. “Some may say it’s stronger. I will be able to hold you in place while I speak to Albus. Our worlds will remain imbalanced until we are all returned to our proper places.” Draco and Harry approached me, looking sad.

“We want you to visit us again,” said Harry.

“If you match our age in our universe, there really shouldn’t be a problem, right?” asked Draco, and I laughed.

“Er… we’ll see. I didn’t want to tell the bakers this, but… I don’t think I’ll be able to travel like this again. Magic doesn’t exist where I come from,” I said sadly.

“You’d be surprised,” Celestia argued with a smile. “It’s small, but it’s there. As long as you don’t try to change plot lines again, you’re welcome to visit any universe.”

“How do I do that?”

“How did you do it today?” said Luna. I thought a moment, but it clicked.

“I’m dreaming,” I concluded. The princesses nodded, and Celestia pulled the chains from Draco’s and Harry’s chests with her magic so that she could hold onto them, and Luna did the same with me.

“Let’s get you all back to where you belong,” said Celestia. The alicorns ripped open two different holes, I waved goodbye to Harry and Draco, and they waved back. Despite everything, Apple Bloom was also waving, and finally, I was back in limbo, and Luna was able to find my universe and place me back in my own bed. She said something to me, but I never got a chance to hear it because Michael was waking me up at that moment. I remember groaning a lot. XD

At some point in the dream, I remember thinking, “I’ve gotta visit my Reitanna Fiction universe at some point.” Of course, now that I’m awake, I doubt universe hopping is going to be something I can do, lucid or not. My dreams just drop me wherever, and if I’m lucid, I still can’t decide where I want to be. Hell, sometimes when I try to ask Satan to help me in a sticky situation, he either turns out to be some dude in a costume, or he doesn’t show up at all. He used to show up ALL THE TIME. Even flying has become rather difficult for me.

But yeah, that was my dream. I can’t even describe how scary it was to be face to face with the bakers. I was sure it was going to turn into a nightmare. As for Apple Bloom’s cutie mark, I think that meant she was supposed to be from a fan fiction universe, and not the canon one. But what could a sparkly, happy cloud represent? XD That would also explain why Applejack was basically Hanna Montana. T_T So strange… Plus, where were all the other MLP fan fiction universes? I probably just didn’t look hard enough? Anyway, I haven’t had a vivid one like that in awhile, and what’s more, it actually wasn’t a nightmare for once. I’m glad I remembered it fully when I woke up, now it’s documented, so even if I forget it, I can read it over! YAY!!

I wish we understood dreams better.

My Dreams Have Continuing Storylines

It’s fascinating, really, how the mind weaves dreams into either utter chaos, uncertainty, and randomness, or complex overarching tales that are revisited and progressed forward days, months, even years after they started. I can’t make sense of this phenomenon, and I’m not sure who can, but I’ve noticed it many times in my life, now having three instances where my dreams have continued a story. It’s like when I fall asleep in this reality, I wake up in a new one, going about my days normally.

However, my tasks in that other reality are anything but normal. I will explain the very first instance of continuing dreams. This storyline has been going since my childhood. When I was a kid, I wanted very badly to fly. This was my urge to escape the confines of her violent hands. I did not understand that humans could not fly, but when I fell asleep, that no longer mattered.

I began to learn to fly. Sometimes I had help, a teacher to tell me what I should and should not do. Other times, I had to practice by myself. It took many years to learn to fly in my dreams, but I eventually got the hang of it as a young adult. Sometimes I still struggle, but otherwise, I can fly freely. These dreams have shown me my own struggle with learning how to do this, and I have many times mentioned to dream people, “I am only learning how to fly right now.” In dreams after I learned, I have periodically said, “it took me years to learn how to fly.” It’s as if I was taking a journey in my mind while asleep, getting closer to my goal over the span of uncountable years.

The second storyline is one that started after I graduated high school. Now, everyone has school dreams, and they don’t stop after you finally are able to leave. However, in my school dreams, I am not my teenage self, but my present self. I have voluntarily gone back to high school for another four years to graduate for a second time.

I’ve had the normal struggles: finding my classes, accidentally losing my schedule, not remembering the code for my locker, trying to remember which periods I had breaks between, trying not to be late for school, and trying to remember which bus I had to take to get home. Not only that, but all of the students eventually get familiar with the fact that this twenty-something year old woman is working on her second high school graduation, as do the teachers.

I can leave at any time. I don’t have to be there, I’m not required to do any of the work, and I can miss as many days that I want… this just means I’d be giving up my goal of graduating a second time. Naturally, school is just as annoying as it always was, so there are days where I consider giving up and just not going anymore. However, something tells me to wake up to my cell’s alarm each weekday morning, do my makeup, and take the morning bus to school.

I hang out with friends, though my real self doesn’t know their names. I often have problems socializing with anyone I’m not close to, which, again, is normal. It’s difficult to find certain classes when the layout of the school changes every couple of dreams, or I look at my schedule and that classroom doesn’t exist. But I managed it, I graduated a second time to add to my GPA, getting a seven point something. Because, ya know, you can totally do that.

I thought I was done with it, wondering what I was going to do now with two high school diplomas. Well, apparently I decided that seven point something wasn’t high enough, so I am currently attending school for another four years. I don’t know why I decided to go back, I mean, it’s not like I miss it. Sure, there are a couple things I miss, but otherwise, school was hell. It’s a little easier this time around for some reason.

But then… just recently… this third storyline began. You know how I just said school had been hell? Well, now I have a job… in actual Hell. Yup. I am not sure if I died or not, but I first went to Hell a few months ago. I was confused, not remembering dying, and I was asking everyone else where I was. Apparently, all of these other people worked for the devil, who preferred to be called Mephistopheles. Because that name is so long, I’ll just call him Satan in this blog.

Now, I have to make this clear: I AM NOT SATANIC. I don’t believe in the devil. I’m non-religious, which means I don’t believe in even having a religion. But apparently God and Satan both exist in this second realm I live in. Maybe I did die. Heh, I was surprised by my death, not by where I ended up.

We all congregate at this huge mansion. It’s practically never ending. It’s always extremely dark outside, almost to the point where you can’t see unless you have a flashlight. Inside the mansion, it’s dimly lit by mostly neon bulbs, which is pretty cool. We all have to take turns with maintaining the house, having a white board that shows who does what chore for the day. Aside from that, we also have the actual jobs which we get paid for. I’m not sure what this currency is we use, but it’s just a bunch of dull yellow coins.

On like my second day there, a girl told me Satan wished to speak with me personally. Apparently this was rare, and it either meant something really good, or… torture. You can’t die again, but you can definitely feel pain. She didn’t know which it was, so I was terrified, and also excited. I mean, this was my boss, as well as the most important being in Hell. You don’t get fired if you lose your job, you get eternal damnation!

So I slowly made my way toward his office, having trouble walking like I always do in dreams, and ended up floating there instead. Floating is a bit harder to control than flying, and sometimes I go in directions I didn’t mean to go, but I got there. His office is large, cluttered, and… checkered. Seriously, the floor and the walls are black and white checkers. I sat in front of his desk, but he was turned away from me. As soon as I sat, he spun around, and my heart jumped into my throat, partly because of him being my very scary and evil boss, but also because he was extraordinarily attractive; I had never seen him prior to this meeting.

To my surprise, he was smiling kindly at me. He told me how he picks his employees, and that’s by reaching into people’s minds and finding their inner evil. He only chooses the most demented and ruthless people to work directly under him. (As a side note, I’m super badass in the dream realm, and I don’t hold back my urges. I worked for the Yakuza, but got fired because I was too ruthless, and other than that, I’ve killed a lot of people just from anger.) Everyone already knows how he chooses them, and they take great pride in it, but I told him I was confused as to why he was telling me this personally.

“Because I’m looking for a protégé,” he told me. “Someone who is nearly as evil as I am, you know, to train, to have someone to take over in emergencies.” He explained that he was very impressed with my lack of empathy, as well as my willingness to torture and kill. He said I was the most unmerciful person he’s seen in Hell since… well, he said some serial killer’s name, but I can’t remember who exactly it was. He was choosing me to be his protégé.

I was scared. “What if I’m not very good?” I asked him. “What if I fail you?” He told me I wouldn’t… how he was so sure, I had no idea, but this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up for something as trivial as fear. I’m in Hell, I wouldn’t last five minutes if I didn’t let go of my fears. Besides… he was sexy. Can’t argue with a man that has a face and body like that. He’s no goat-man, trust me.

I mainly fly everywhere because walking is tedious, but sometimes I’m reduced to walking when in the mansion. I’m not gonna lie, I always refuse to do the chores by saying, “oh, I forgot to look at the schedule,” so someone else has to do them. There are two girls I don’t get along with, one really skinny and pretty Latina, and a very large and muscular girl whose ethnicity I can’t quite figure out. They always push me around, and they’ve sent Satan complaints about me not doing my chores. He’s never spoken to me about this, so I assume he doesn’t give a shit. He treats me kind of special.

The work we have to do involves going to the “real world.” So, it’s the dream realm’s version of this realm. It’s more like this realm, but you can tell things are sort of different. There are never any stars out at night, civilization is more progressed, and daylight isn’t excruciating. Sometimes we have to go up, invisible to the living eye, and manipulate the environment. We have to cause minor to major accidents, whisper in people’s ears to get them to do something, or tweak the weather. I remember one day I was working with two guys that I was on good terms with, and we were at a skate park. One guy was causing the skaters to fall off of their boards, while me and the other guy were making up fake news reports on the radio they had. It was hilarious.

Satan is able to communicate with us telepathically, and we all have been given different powers to aid us. For example, we can teleport and move very quickly. Teleportation took me some time to get used to, but I get more one-on-one time with Satan than everyone else does. After getting used to the basics of the job, he gave me a special assignment that is usually for the higher-ups. I had to crash a high speed train that travelled on tracks above a city instead of on the ground. It was at night, so it was hard to see, and I had to track the train down myself. There was a lot of teleporting involved, but I finally managed to catch up with it, short circuit the wires that powered it, and caused it to fall off of the tracks.

I noticed a lot of jealousy after returning to the mansion and collecting my payment at the career kiosk. Some asked me why I, a rookie, was allowed to derail a train. I told them, “that’s what Satan asked me to do, so I did it.” I was supported by very few, for I don’t have many friends there, but Satan praised me immensely. I’m rather disliked because of all of the time I get to spend with him, like he considers me a friend instead of just a student.

Other jobs to be done are to kill living people when it’s their time to die, and drag them to Hell if they’re not sucked up into the sky by God. I had to visit Heaven once to speak with God, and all of the angels glared at me. It’s not like I wanted to be there. Sempai had been permitted to visit me in Hell, but she accidentally stayed too long, so God locked her away in his prison. Satan told me to go up and plead with him, tell him it wasn’t her fault, so I did. I wasn’t supposed to fly around him because it was rude in Heaven, so I had to awkwardly walk into his chamber, nearly slipping on the tile. Long story short, God agreed to free my best friend. Why she was dead, I will never know.

Sometimes I do feel like more than a student, and not just because of my special privileges. Satan has me keep him company for most days, telling me funny stories, making fun of his other employees, and just hanging out. He’s really chill when he’s in a good mood. Now, this is what’s going to sound weird, but it’s just how things are done in this business. There’s a select few with whom he’s formed romantic relationships with, and I was shocked when I was no longer an exception. Yeah, it’s normal, and considered an extreme honor. Basically, if you’re sleeping with the devil, you’re the shit. I didn’t really have a choice, but I didn’t try to refuse either. Dream Mike (who is also dead) said it was okay, and he actually said, “you better get in the big guy’s pants!” This version of dream Mike is different than the bad dream Mike, who is very much alive, but I’m trying to kill. If I kill him, I’m hoping he won’t show up in my dreams anymore. He’s the meanest, most selfish, and abusive douchebag you can imagine.

Anyway, I’m considered very important, and Satan remains my only true friend because everyone thinks it’s unfair that he plays favorites with me. It doesn’t bother me much. As long as I stay on Satan’s good side, no one can touch me. However, last night I made him really mad, and he almost dropped me completely.

So, I’ve become pretty selfish with him, and I don’t want to share him in any sense of the word. But besides me, he’s got like two other girls and one guy, and I always get really jealous when they’re around. Still, I seem to be the favorite, even though the two chicks are way hotter than me. I guess Satan prefers the mind more than the body. I started to get possessive, and even began beating the shit out of the guy, as well as insulting the girls. Well, this annoyed Satan, and there is no in between content and angry, it’s either one or the other.

First, he starts giving me the silent treatment, throwing me into an empty dimension so I couldn’t find him. He wouldn’t talk to me, and it was upsetting. This dimension looked like an every day suburban house, complete with bedrooms that belonged to children. However, no one lived there. I started to try and plead with him, telling him I was sorry for being a leech, and that it wouldn’t happen again. I thought he had forgiven me when he made a hamster appear in the house for me to play with and love.

I spent a few hours with the hamster, but I don’t remember the name I gave him, and Satan eventually showed up in the house. I went to hug him, but he pushed me back so violently, I fell onto the floor. Then, in front of my eyes, he ate the hamster I had bonded with. I cried, apologizing over and over again, pleading for forgiveness. He knelt down next to me and pet my head.

“I do this because I care about you,” he said. “What you did hurt me, and you needed to be taught a lesson. If this happens again, you’ll never see me again, and the rest of your days will be nothing but agony and misery. Do you understand?” All of this was said so gently and kindly, but it still scared me. I told him I’d never do it again, so he brought me back. I guess he wanted to test my loyalty after all of that, so he made me engage in a sort of orgy with him and the other three. Just to make him happy, I didn’t put all of my focus on him, and started making out with one of the girls.

For my act of… uh… participation, I guess? He rewarded me by bringing Rem and Ezio back to life. I cried again, but from happiness, and I hugged him. I don’t think he really wants to hurt me, but he’s the law, so he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. He really is much more caring toward me on a regular basis. Hopefully I can avoid pissing him off again. It may sound crazy, but I like being his student/friend/mistress (?). I guess. Whatever I am to him. He gives me attention that I like, that’s it.

And it’s not like these storylines are all separate, no. I’ve learned to fly, and go to school, and work as Satan’s protégé in Hell. And of course, on the side are my other dreams, the ones that seem to have no rhyme or reason. I always know, though, I always know about the things I do, and even talk about them. In fact, half the time, I’m actually lucid. When I had that meeting with God, I told him, “sorry, sir, I have trouble walking in my dreams because my real body is laying down.” Night before last, I had a nightmare where I was screaming, “Michael! Wake me up! Hurry, wake me up!” but it didn’t reach my vocal chords, so I didn’t scream out loud like I usually do.

Sometimes I can call on Satan for help in nightmares, and he takes me back to the mansion to escape. It’s rare, and I’m not sure why he can’t save me every time. It’s kind of frustrating when he doesn’t respond to my calls. Part of me assumes he’s busy, and then the lucid part says, “fuck, maybe he doesn’t exist in this dream.” I wish I had more control.

When I tried to kill bad dream Mike a couple nights ago, the pistol I tried to use had no bullets, and the only weapons I could find were ice picks, pins, and small screw drivers. He seems to be much fatter than real Mike, so when I stabbed him in the belly, it just sank into the fat. He sneered, “you can’t kill me.” I tried to find a knife, but I couldn’t find one anywhere. I’m afraid he might be controlling the environment in the dreams he appears in, making it so I can’t kill him. Maybe this truly means that, if I kill him, he won’t bother me anymore. He really causes me stress, but it’s nice to wake up to the real Mike and remember how he truly is. I need to find a way to arm myself before falling asleep. Problem is… I can’t control my lucidity.

Are dreams just dreams, or are they something more? Are we really going to a different realm and living a second, immensely different life? How is it that my mind has given me this second life that’s just as dynamic as living a real one, just… unrealistic? Well, one thing I know for sure is…

I’m REALLY badass in the dream realm. XD

Dreams of Alternate Universes!

Thank you, Trazodone, for these surprisingly vivid dreams!

A few months ago, before I was on my new sleeping medication, I had a dream that I had been sent to an alternate universe where I had never grown up in a broken home. I started writing a story based on it, but I haven’t been working on it. It actually kind of saddened me…

But this one was a whole different story. I had gone to sleep, and then woke up in a different place. It was still an apartment, but it wasn’t my apartment. A man was sitting next to me, and I freaked out because I didn’t recognize him. I don’t remember his name, so I’ll call him Miguel (because he looked Latino). I demanded where I was, and he looked very shocked, saying I was home, of course. I asked him who he was, and he said he was my roommate and my intern.

“Intern for what?” I asked. He showed me a lanyard around my neck with a laminated card that read, “Dr. Kara Reynolds, medical professional.” I was a doctor. WHAT?! Miguel seemed very hurt that I didn’t remember him for some reason, so he started cutting into his upper arm with a blade, which I thought was a little over the top, and he had to apply a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.

Apparently we had another roommate, and I’ll call her Casey. She was a surgeon. Our apartment was small, kind of messy, and pretty empty. There were these huge beetles everywhere, and they didn’t look like any beetle I’ve ever seen. I was scared of them for some reason, even though I don’t have a fear of most bugs. Casey was concerned that I didn’t remember anything from my life before waking up that morning, so she decided to stick by me for the day.

We left the apartment, seeing that we were in a hotel-like hallway. We went downstairs and left the building. IT WAS CRAZY. The sky was the clearest blue, but all of the buildings were tall, close together, and shiny. There were many neon lights of different colors, and the cliché flying cars. There were still streets, but it seemed that they were for walking only.

Casey and I walked down a road under some kind of high tech overpass that led into an industrial tunnel, and as people entered it, a female voice would say things like, “administering penicillin,” “administering aspirin,” “administering floexetine,” et cetera. One girl rushed by me and said, “move! I feel sick!” She ran under the overpass, and the voice said, “administering promethazine.” Then the girl sighed in relief and carried on down the tunnel. When I passed under, the voice said, “administering bupropion, venlafaxine, and lamotrigine.” I was a little confused, for those were the medications I had to take, so I asked Casey about it.

“Medication to cure all illnesses are given by transmitting them to the person who needs it,” she explained. “All of those machines are able to detect if you’re sick, and they give you what you need to cure or treat it. Sometimes people don’t even know they were sick until they walk under one. This keeps diseases from spreading. Mental illnesses are no exception.”

“Where are we going?” I asked her.

“To the hospital where we work. But today, you won’t be doing your job, we need to see what’s causing your amnesia. The treatment machines can’t do anything about that,” Casey replied. So we went to the hospital, which looked very strange. Instead of it being brightly lit and white all over, it was dim, industrial, and lit with more neon lights. It looked like a space themed rave, just without music and dancers. Doctors and nurses all wore long white trench coats, but they had different symbols on them to identify their job position.

Casey explained my predicament to a nurse, who didn’t seem to like me much, so she put me in the physical therapy room until she could find someone to care for me. Casey had to go perform a surgery. Afraid of all of the strange patients, I sort of kept to myself as I watched them use the exercise equipment. I had no idea what world I had woken up in, but I wanted to find a way to get back to mine. I went through another door to explore the hospital.

I found myself in a hallway with doors to patients’ rooms. I looked into some of them, seeing they were small, but customized to suit the person living in them. As I went through a few halls, I found myself in a grassy area, and the grass was so thick and plush, it felt like a big cushion. I couldn’t even walk on it without falling, so I had to crawl. I came across a large, bright green lizard that had been sleeping, but when I tried to get a better look at it, it woke up. It bared its fangs at me, which were thin and sharp like needles. I thought it might be poisonous, so I tried to back away, but it was extremely fast. It came up and started biting my hand, but the fangs weren’t penetrating my skin. Instead, a water-like substance started coming from the fangs and dripping down my hand, and I realized it was milking its venom on me. I didn’t want to take the chance of the venom doing something to my skin, or wait to see if the fangs would eventually puncture me, so I went back the way I had come. The lizard chased me until I was off of the grass.

I went down some stairs and came to an underground passageway. It was really dark, the only source of light being candles on the walls. Yes, candles, not torches. I was suddenly surprised by this parade of creatures with different noise makers as noses, and they started honking and whistling obnoxiously. A young girl with dark grey hair grabbed my hand and led me into a room. Twas no room, my friends, but an entire town. Things were floating, or upside down, or both, people were dressed extremely unorthodox, the sky was a deep purple, and the air itself seemed to be tinted a bluish color. There were a lot of weird plants around, things that didn’t even look like plants.

A girl with pink hair came up to us, and she reminded me of Pinkie Pie with the way she spoke and behaved. In fact, because I don’t know her name, I’ll call her Pinkie, and the grey haired girl will be Elise. Elise introduced Pinkie as her sister, and Pinkie reached down to a patch of fluffy white stuff and shoved it in my mouth. It was sweet and yummy, like soft meringue. As we stood there conversing, two more girls came up, one being a goth girl with bobbed black hair, and the other having long silver blonde hair, dressed like a cyber raver. We’ll call the goth Emma, and the blonde Suzette.

“Emma! You always pop up like candy clouds on a sweet and sunny day!” said Pinkie happily. Emma laughed, but Suzette furrowed her brow.

“That made no sense,” she said.

“It did to me,” said Emma. “I’ve known Pinkie since we were kids. Her way of speaking really only makes sense to Elise and I. What she just said was, ‘Emma! Great timing!’ If she were to say, ‘bubbles never pop in silky string things,’ that would mean ‘your hair looks nice.'” The girls all demanded I introduce myself, and I told them that I didn’t know where I was, that I had somehow been transferred from my old world into an alternate universe.

“This has happened before,” said Emma, “but the government tries to hush it up. They take people from other universes and make up lives for them here, but the problem they have is everyone always retains their previous memories. They take these people to a room and erase their old memories, replacing them with the ones they want you to have. The only people who know about this are government officials, but everyone in this underground have found out at some point, and that’s why we’re here. We’re the banished ones, and we’re not allowed to go above ground.”

“Why did those noisy things freak out when I came here?” I asked.

“Those are the alarms,” said Elise. “They make noise if anyone from the outside comes down here, or if any of the banished try to leave. You’re lucky I found you, or you would’ve been hauled away.”

“And what’s that?” I continued, pointing at the white puffy stuff Pinkie had fed me.

“That’s grass,” said Elise. I must’ve looked extremely confused, for Suzette started to explain.

“Banishment isn’t so bad because every plant or animal here is some sort of candy or pastry. The trees are made of chocolate, and their leaves are fruit leather.” I was suddenly overjoyed, and Pinkie grabbed mine and Elise’s hands, shoving us into a cart attached to the back of a bike, and she hopped on to ride it through the town. Emma and Suzette waved goodbye to us as we went.

Pinkie started singing loudly, and many people we passed by joined in. Elise leaned over the edge of the cart, grabbing at different plants and handing them to me. We both happily ate so many sweet things, and I listened to the singing, watched the cartoonish buildings, the floating objects, and enjoyed looking at the quirky people. It made me so happy.

“This is the kind of world I could live in forever!” I told Elise, who smiled and clapped energetically.

“Let’s go into the spooooooky forest!” said Pinkie, and she went down a road. It got progressively darker as we drew nearer to a thick forest.

“It’s not actually spooky,” Elise told me. “It’s just dark.”

“There are things about the forest you don’t know, little sister!” sang Pinkie. As we traveled along the leafy path, Pinkie would start grabbing things and giving it to us to eat. She gave us these large, shiny, perfectly spherical watermelons. The “skin” was thick candy coating, and the inside was pink gummy. Pinkie shook a tree, and sparkly white specks rained down on the candy. “Add sour sprinkles to your sweet treats!” she said.

As we carried on, we ate nuts that were covered in chocolate, and had some squishy maple flavored taffy that we dipped in a caramel filled stream. After picking up a “rock” that turned out to be some kind of pastry, Elise looked closely at it. She took it from me and bit into it.

“Doesn’t this taste a little odd to you?” she whispered, handing it back. I took a bite. The texture was much different than I expected, but it was still good.

“Sort of, but not in a bad way,” I said. “Why?” Elise picked up another pastry rock and started inspecting it. With a look of horror, she leaned in to me to whisper again.

“I think this is made out of meat!” I was a vegetarian, so this was a problem for me, but I wasn’t sure why she was worried. When I asked her why it mattered, she said, “all of our animals are sweets, the only meat we have is… the people!” I laughed nervously, looking at the pastry again.

“There’s no way,” I told her. “People would know, right?”

“Everyone stopped coming to the forest after a bunch of people disappeared here last Halloween,” said Elise, still speaking quietly so that Pinkie, who was picking candy mushrooms, couldn’t hear. “The only person that comes here is my sister. I haven’t even come here since Halloween. And you know, she’s been acting a little strange… almost too happy, even for her. And some people have been going missing, but everyone thinks it’s because they’ve tried going above ground, and they got caught.”

“You sound like you think Pinkie is behind this,” I said with another laugh.

“Hey, watcha guys talkin about?” asked Pinkie as she brought us an armful of mushrooms. I laughed, taking one.

“Elise thinks you’re feeding us people,” I said jokingly. Pinkie’s smile fell instantly, and Elise noticed this. Before I could take a bite of the mushroom, Elise knocked it out of my hand and said, “don’t eat that!” Then there was a horrific scream, and we looked over to see a naked man with slightly cooked skin stumble out of a cave, and he was bound in some kind of black netting.

“HELP ME!!” he cried, but a couple of shadow-like demons grabbed him and dragged him back into the cave. Pinkie’s eyes had turned red, and she screeched at us. Elise and I hopped out of the wagon and ran for our lives, not stopping until we went through the door that led outside of the town.

“That’s not my sister!” Elise whimpered as we crept around the shadows to avoid the alarm creatures. We came to a room that was as dark as everywhere else, but the walls, floor, and ceiling glittered intensely. “The alarms can’t go in here, it’s the safe room.” There were a few people sitting around, but one stood up and walked toward us, taking off a shawl that hid her face and hair. We both gasped, seeing it was Pinkie, but she looked different. Her skin was pale and waxy, her eyes were tired and sunken in, and her pink hair was messy, dry, and brittle.

“Pinkie?” I asked in bewilderment. She nodded, then looked at Elise.

“I’ve been waiting for you to find me,” she said hoarsely, and in an emotionless tone. “I’ve been in this room since last Halloween, hoping you’d come in here for some reason. But you haven’t.”

“What’s going on? I just saw you in town!” cried Elise.

“I have to stay in here because the alarms see me as an outsider, and not one of the banished,” she explained. “Elise, that Pinkie in the town is not me, she is a demon that appeared in the forest. She’s behind all of the people disappearing, making them into sweets to plant in the forest. There are some natural sweets in there, but you can tell what is hers because of its texture. I was the only survivor last Halloween that saw her, everyone else got killed. She took away my happiness so that she’d appear to be me to everyone else. Now I can’t feel happiness at all, just all of the negative emotions.” Then she looked at me. “Who are you?”

“I’ve been transferred here from another universe, and I’m trying to get home,” I replied.

“I know how to get you home,” said Pinkie. “The people in this safe room are mostly government workers that want to rebel against this transferring thing. You need to find your way to the government building, go to the lab where they develop this technology, and have the professor hook you up to one of the chairs. They use the chairs to visit these other universes so that they can pick which people to bring to this universe. I don’t know where you came from, so this is sort of a gamble. You might get back to yours, or end up somewhere else, but it’s worth a shot.”

“So how am I going to get into this lab?” I inquired.

“Do what they do in the movies. Go in disguise, assume someone else’s identity, and just walk on through.”

“That won’t work,” said a man from the corner. “They’ve upped the security. Now there are doors that detect your DNA and match you with personnel that are permitted to be in the building. She won’t get further than the front desk… unless you cause a distraction.”

“How am I going to do that?” I asked incredulously.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, you’re a young adult, you still have some of that teenage obnoxiousness in you,” said the man. “You had better go quickly before the alarms come back this way.”

“Pinkie, what are we going to do about the demon?” said Elise sadly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But now that you know where I am, we can try and figure it out.”

“Elise, Pinkie, and… sir over there… I can’t thank you enough for helping me. Good luck with the demon,” I said, and the girls waved to me as I ran out of the safe room and back to the stairs. I was up in the hospital again, but decided to try and find a back door to sneak out of. Once I did, I started to ask around to get directions to the government building.

The information I needed came from a larger group of teens and adults younger than myself that were all dressed rather punky. They didn’t seem to take kindly to me because I had the lanyard that said I was a doctor around my neck, but I told them my situation. They were horrified to learn about the transferring of people from different universes, and immediately pulled out their cell phones to call all of their friends. We were quickly joined by ravers, goths, more punks, skaters, and general rebellious teenagers. Then we marched to the government building and entered.

The woman at the front desk nervously asked us what we were doing here, and a boy with a blue Mohawk told her, “we’re here to party.” Quite a few guards showed up, but the boy had been carrying a stereo, which he set on the floor and started blasting hard rock. The rest of the kids began breaking things, throwing smoke bombs, and hitting people with glow sticks. I threw a computer monitor and shattered a glass door. A man tried to apprehend me, but a skater boy shoved his skateboard into his stomach, and he fell to the floor in pain. I leaned over him and smiled.

“You’ll be fine. Trust me, I’m a doctor!” Then I took off my lanyard and dropped it on his chest, and I took his, which had a barcode on it. The skater dude ran with me further into the building as the huge group of hooligans caused massive chaos, but we were still being pursued. There were female officials riding on these weird hover disks, zooming toward us. The dude knocked one off and threw the disk to me, but a second woman managed to apprehend him. I got on the disk and flew off, being chased by women who knew how to control the things way better than I did; I was trying hard not to fall off, and I couldn’t figure out how to steer.

I somehow managed to outrun them briefly, and found my way to the lab. I went in and showed the professor the card I had, and he scanned it, then led me over to a large chair that looked like the NEMO chair from Saints Row the Third. I sat in it, and he said, “now, the key is to relax, and we’ll see you back here in a few weeks.” He stuck little electro pads to my skin, plugging the other end into ports on the chair, and stuck a pair of headphones on my head, playing some binaural beats. I drifted to sleep almost instantly.

I woke up for real, in my real bed, in my real apartment, no longer dreaming. It was really weird. I was still sleepy though, so I fell asleep again.

I was back in that same universe, but it was different. Now the government had been overruled, and people could travel between universes at will. I was just hanging out, telling the locals that this was my second time here, but then someone ran up to the group I was talking to.

“Guys! Justin Bieber is here!” he said excitedly. I narrowed my eyes.

“This universe has a Justin Bieber…?” I asked slowly.

“Oh my god, he’s only the top scholar in the entire world!” said one of the girls in the group. “He’s so intelligent, he’s made thousands of discoveries, inventions that have revolutionized the way we live, and he’s won so many Nobel prizes! He invented the treatment machines!” This was too good to be true, so when Justin Bieber himself came walking down the hall, I had to keep from laughing.

His hair was properly groomed, he wore thick, horn rimmed glasses, a sweater vest, tie, white undershirt, khaki pants, and black dress shoes. I’m sure my face was red now from holding back the urge to laugh. Since I was still known as a doctor in this universe, I shook his hand and spluttered out, “it’s nice to meet you…” We had a short conversation, and he spoke very intellectually, but I was crying from restraining myself so hard. Finally, when he walked away, I burst out in hysterical laughter. I didn’t get a chance to explain what was so funny to everyone else because Michael woke me up for my doctor’s appointment.

I uh… I don’t think this dream means anything. It was fun, though!

“Back to School” Dreams

Man, there have been a lot of dream posts lately! Well, honestly, aside from being accused of being a Weeaboo, that’s the only interesting thing going on in my life! (About the Weeaboo thing, by definition, I’m not even an Otaku. I like a very small and select group of anime, haven’t read manga since I was in high school, and have studied Japanese language and culture because HALF OF MY FAMILY IS JAPANESE. As for music and movies, all Asian media interests me, and not because they’re Asian, it’s because certain bands/artists really click with me, and most Asian horror movies are the SHIT! But just like in America, and all other countries, Asia has music, movies, cartoons, books, et cetera that just don’t appeal to me. It’s not being obsessed with the culture, it’s about enjoying the product. Japan clicks mostly with me because I spent a lot of time with the Japanese part of my family, so yeah. Word to the wise, don’t accuse someone of being something unless you know them.)

Now that my mini rant is done, let’s get back to bweezness. (Name that reference!) For a few years, I’ve had the strangest dreams about being in high school. “But Reitanna, that’s totes normal!” No, I’m not just talking about general school dreams, which practically everyone has all the time, including me, I mean dreams where I decide to go back to high school for another four years AT MY CURRENT AGE.

At the time I am writing this blog, I am twenty-four. I will be twenty-five in November. So here I am, in my dream, willingly going back to my old high school, enrolling in classes, and planning to go the full four years to graduate a second time. (I graduated in 2009, by the way.) This would somehow add my new GPA to my old one, so in all, I would potentially have a 6.0 to 7.0 GPA after my second graduation. Not only that, but the staff and teachers know how old I am, and that this is my second time around. I can pull off looking like a sixteen year old, so students would assume I was just your typical Sophomore or Junior. Nope… twenty-four year old Freshman…………………. o_o

As far as I know, going to high school for a second time is not possible, nor is adding to your previous GPA, because isn’t 4.0 the highest you can get? It’s been so long since I’ve been in school, I forget. So why am I having these dreams? It can’t be that I miss going to school, I hated high school. I didn’t have trouble as a student, no, I have always loved learning. Sure, I hated certain classes and struggled in a few of them like any teenager would, but in the end, my GPA was around 3.4, I don’t remember the exact number. After graduation, I was DONE. I wasn’t going to Grad Night, I wasn’t going to the Senior picnic, and I will NEVER go to my high school reunion. I hated a majority of the students, I wasn’t too fond of a few of the teachers (especially the one that hated Latinos for some reason), and I hated that the principal cared more about our sports program than our arts and music programs. Seriously, when it gets to a point where orchestra and choir have to fund themselves, there’s a problem.

If two football players got in a physical fight, the teachers would just laugh and say, “now come on boys, no fighting.” But if any “outcast” got in a fight, they’d be suspended! It was like a corrupt government! Not to mention, since I wasn’t on medication, I had many panic attacks. I remember a time when I was having one, and I couldn’t stop crying. I wasn’t being violent toward anyone, not even myself, and the dear old principal was shouting at me to calm down or he’d call the police. This was after my gothic phase! So I wasn’t even scary looking! How can you seriously expect a Bipolar child to just stop having a panic attack when, A, she did nothing wrong, B, she wasn’t hurting anyone, C, you’re shouting at her, and D, you threaten to call the police? You can’t call the police on a teenager that has literally done absolutely NO HARM! One that’s never done drugs, never gotten in a physical fight, doesn’t have a history of suspension or expulsion on her permanent record, and does well in school! There was absolutely no reason for their hostility, they should’ve tried getting one of the councilors to calm me down enough for me to tell them what triggered the panic attack. Maybe then, they’d realize it wasn’t me who caused a problem, but the girl who threatened to KILL ME. Yeah, fuck you Principal I-Forget-Your-Name. You were old in 2009, I hope you’ve died by now.

I enjoyed choir though, even if Mrs. Grey was a bit harsh with me, but that was because she became pretty unpleasant after her mother passed away. She was much kinder to me my Senior year when she came to terms with it, and you know what, she was an excellent choir teacher. (Fun fact! Mrs. Grey was also Adam Lambert’s high school choir teacher a couple years before she transferred to the school I went to! When he was on American Idol, she would NOT stop talking about him. XD)

I also enjoyed Photography, which I took my Senior year. Wednesdays and Thursdays were known as “Tutorial days.” This was where you only had periods 1, 3, and 5 on Wednesday, and periods 2, 4, and 6 on Thursday. For normal days, we started at 7:30 and got out at 2:30, but on Tutorial days, we got out at 2:10. YAY SHORT DAY, right? Nope, long day. Each of our three periods were two hours long, and after 2:10, you had twenty minutes of your own personal study/work time, busses still came at 2:30. Mondays were short days, also known as “Staff Development” days. Classes would start at 8:00, be much shorter, and we’d get out at 2:30. Those were nice. Er… where was I going with this? OH YEAH! So, I had Photo on Thursdays, and those two hours of that class were my favorite out of the whole week. I could stay in there all day if I had been allowed to. So, of course, there were parts of high school I did like, but I’d never want to experience it again, especially not for another four years.

I have a couple of theories. One is that I feel bad that I’ve forgotten all of the subject matter I excelled at. I could tell you all of the classes I was top student in, but could I tell you what I learned using technical terms and all that? No, and this is partly because of my suicide attempt in the summer of 2009, and partly because time has simply passed with no practice in any of those particular subjects. I also took French, which I wasn’t fond of, but I could have a conversation. Now, however, I can only tell you that I can’t speak French, I speak cheese, and that I am a grapefruit. T_T Maybe the dreams are trying to fill the part of me that was dedicated to learning, but as an adult with a job, I don’t have time to learn something new that would take more than a day at the most. The most recent things I’ve learned about were Corona Mass Ejections, Strange Matter, how fireworks make specific shapes, and buried penises. (Because science!) Maybe I miss studying, completing assignments, being given a good grade for my work… maybe I miss reading books, which I used to love, but don’t have time for anymore. Maybe I miss forcing myself to get pretty and dress cutely every day. Maybe I miss having somewhere to go every day…

Or maybe… and note that I am not an egocentric person, but I do have fantasies about overpowering common people, making them abide by laws I’ve set, you know, dictator stuff that I’d realistically never be able to do. Maybe if I had that power, I would have an ego, but years of being bullied by peers, and abused my family members have killed any self worth I had, and I didn’t have much to begin with. Maybe if I were the oldest student in high school, one that’s already graduated once, I’d feel like I had a small amount of power because of my age. I felt that way when I was the only Senior taking health class, which was full of Freshman. Some of them looked up to me because I was older, dressed interestingly, and had the highest grade in the class… (I ended with a 120%, so I didn’t even have to take the final exam.) Some feared me because they realized they couldn’t pull any of their dumb Freshman tricks on me that would fool their fellow fourteen year old. I always felt so confident in that class, something I rarely felt, because I had seniority. Maybe, since I’ve spent most of my life lacking confidence, the dreams are trying to let me experience confidence and power by having had accomplished something none of the other students had, and by going for it a second time.

Those are the only reasons I can come up with for having these unrealistic dreams… I mean, dreams are usually unrealistic, but this one has occurred extremely often since I graduated from beauty school. Heh, when in beauty school, I was learning from books, taking tests, putting theory into practice… so I think my first theory may be the correct one. Whenever I think about all of the things I had learned being forgotten, and my lack of studying in my current life, I feel genuinely sad, unfulfilled, and… dumb. I am not actually stupid, though forgetful, but if I can’t even tell you how to use a simple Punnett square, something I used to be able to do with my eyes closed, I feel dumb! I can’t tell you most of the scientific names of animal groups I studied in Zoology, nor can I figure out the half-life of radioactive atoms! I can’t even tell you how F-Stops work! At least I can tell you why Pluto isn’t a planet… *Sarcastically twirls finger.*

I guess you lose part of yourself when you discover that you, a previously well educated person, have become uneducated. It hurts, because I don’t want to be just another uneducated American slob! At least I have street smarts, but I’ve always considered book smarts to be just as important. I mean, I used to read ahead in science books to chapters we hadn’t even gotten to yet. Now… all I can tell you is what an atom is composed of, but not how Ions form… I feel lost. That’s what I think the dreams are telling me, that I miss learning. God, what a downer.

“Impossible” Dreams

They say you can’t do certain things in dreams; feel pain, taste food, read text, see your hands, or die. However, I’m sure I’m not the only one in the world that has experienced all of these things while sleeping.

A few nights ago, I had a dream that I was being tortured, which is one of my greatest fears. I had people drilling into the middle of each of my teeth, they slit my fingers, and even opened my chest. Now, if this were happening in real life, the pain would be unbearable, but in the dream, it was just sharp pains, though I was screaming like I would if it were agonizing. Then, night before last, I had a dream where I was bitten by a snake with long fangs, a giant spider, and stung by a scorpion. The level of pain was more realistic this time. It was sharp, hot, and after the bites and sting, there was a dull ache in the spots where it happened.

I’ve had dreams were I’m in a maze full of different desserts. These are lovely! So many cakes, pastries, pies, EVERYTHING! And I could taste all of it, though they weren’t as sweet as the real thing. I remember waking up from these dreams and feeling severely disappointed that I hadn’t actually been eating sweets.

The reading text and seeing your hands thing really confuses me. Supposedly, if there are words in your dream, they will be blurry and unreadable. Also, if you try to look at your own hands, they too will be blurry and misshapen. Despite this “fact,” I have read text on cell phones, computers, books, and signs in my dreams on a number of occasions. I have even been able to clearly see my own hands.

Lastly, “if you die in your dream, you die in real life.” I usually wake up before I die in dreams out of sheer fright or shock. There was one where I found myself unable to breathe, and when I woke up, I was gasping for air. Turns out, I had been holding my breath for a few seconds before I woke up. That was scary. However, despite me waking up before I die in most dreams, I have died before. The only two instances I can remember was drowning in the ocean, and dying in a car crash.

When I was younger, I almost drowned while swimming in the ocean, and this was the start of my fear of bodies of water. Rain and showers are no problem because they are not actual bodies. I think my dream was forcing me to remember that experience, except, due to my fear, I actually drowned. I was in the middle of the ocean, no land to be seen, and clinging desperately to a pool floatie. For no reason at all, my hands slipped from the floatie, and I fell beneath the water. It was so dark and cold, and I couldn’t breathe. My vision faded to black for a good three seconds before it switched to a completely unrelated dream about sofas.

After being in my first car crash at the beginning of July, I’ve been terrified of vehicles, mostly when I’m in one, no matter how good the driver is. I’ve also been having way too many dreams about being in crashes, and I’ve died in one of these dreams. It was horrible, in the same car, we hit like twenty different vehicles, each getting worse as we went. After each hit, we lost more control of the car, and eventually, we had a front collision with a tree. I staggered out of the car and fell to the forest floor… we somehow made it to the forest… but it was way more foggy than it had been before. The couple that had been driving came out too, bloody and injured, and they checked the back seat where I had been riding. I saw my own body, broken and covered in blood, and I was not moving. I felt my own head where most of the blood on my corpse had been coming from, and looking at my hand, saw a large amount of blood. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see Death, wearing the stereotypical black robe and holding a scythe. He did not speak, but gestured for me to follow him. Then the dream switched to something about the Simpsons…

I have not done extensive research on dreams, so I am far from an expert. Everything I say now is all just guess work.

In the dreams where I died, what I think happened was my subconscious was bringing back experiences that affected me so strongly, it caused fear of the thing I could’ve died from. I’ve had dreams that introduce other fears as well, mainly sticking with the emotional approach by showing Erin, having me experience myself without my medication, or showing me “Bad” Michael. “Bad” Michael is the version of my boyfriend that I always feared he would be, but isn’t. He’s insensitive, abusive, only wants me for sex, and practically hates me, but when I wake up and look into the real Michael’s eyes, I know that he is the true one, and that I don’t have to worry.

As for the other “impossible” things, I think our brains are trying to base feeling pain, tasting food, reading text, and seeing our hands from our own memories. We know what it’s like to experience pain and taste, and we know what words and our hands look like. For me, the words and hands are extremely clear, but the pain and taste aren’t usually as extreme as it would be in real life. It’s like your brain is making imperfect clones of your memories, and trying to incorporate them into dream places you’ve never been before.

But sometimes… sometimes… I fling myself off of the edge of something in my dream… only to awake and find myself on the floor and in pain. XD

What kind of “impossible” dreams have you had? Do you experience pain? Have you ever died? Feel free to share your experiences!

I Dreamt a Documentary

This post might be a little disturbing, so just as a warning, you may not want to read this one if you’re sensitive to certain subjects. It’s also very long.

My doctor just recently switched my sleeping medication because Ambien stopped working for me, and I took it last night. It worked well, but I’m not sure if this crazy dream was a result of the medication, or if it was just my sick mind fucking around with me again. I have a lot of disturbing dreams, but often the only nightmares that affect me when I wake up are the ones involving emotional distress, usually caused by reliving my childhood, coming face to face with Erin, or being unable to take my medication. They say your greatest enemy is yourself, and that couldn’t be more true. My greatest nightmares make me experience the side of me that I’m afraid of. Anything else, no matter how disturbing, doesn’t usually get to me.

Now, I’m not sure if this certain dream is actually bothering me, or if I just want to document it because it was so… dynamic and detailed. It was pretty damn crazy, I’ll give it that! Even though the memory of the dream isn’t really upsetting me while awake, it upset my dream self, and I need to write it down. Dreams fascinate me, so I like to reflect back on the really complex ones to try and understand what dreaming actually is. I’m no expert, so I’m still just as stumped as anyone else, but even so, it’s still somewhat helpful.

I watch a lot of documentaries on different types of murderers; serial killers, mass murderers, spree killers, impulse killers, et cetera. I do this for multiple reasons that range from research to just entertainment. It also makes me feel better to say, “well, at least I’m not as crazy as that person.” Certain common elements bug me when they go over the killer’s past, and that is history of being sexually abused, and torturing and/or killing animals as a child. We hear these things all of the time, and it’s the only part that ever disturbs me. I mention this because it plays a big part in this dream.

Enough beating around the bush, let’s get down to business. Remember, everything I say is fictional (except when I go over certain elements of my own past) and only occurred in the dream. Any relevance to actual people or occurrences are purely coincidental. The dream starts out with me checking my YouTube comments, and I received one from the director of a recently released online documentary. I think the director was a Freelancer, so he posted his work on his own channel instead of it being produced and distributed as a film. Seeing the comment didn’t surprise me, and I recognized the username. The comment read, “it’s done, here it is,” and then there was a link to a video. Clicking the link brought me to a video called, “A Broken Mind: The [name I can’t remember] Story (Part 1).” In the “related” section of the page were parts two and three. The description read, “the upsetting story of [name I can’t remember], one of the most disturbed murderers of America in the last decade. Special thanks go to…” Then there was a list of names of people on the crew, people who were interviewed, people involved in the case, and so on. “Reitanna Seishin” was listed in these credits, and next to it was a link to my YouTube channel.

None of this surprised me, and I remembered being asked to be a part of the documentary. At the time, my dream self did not provide my conscious self with the information as to why I was in the film, or what role I played, so I clicked “play” on the video and began to watch. The view of the dream changed to where, instead of watching the video on a computer screen, it was like my eyes were the camera lens. It was pretty surreal, honestly. The issue I had in this dream was that the names kept changing, specifically the murderer that the documentary was about. I can’t remember all of the names it changed to, so I’ll settle on the one that stuck out; Carl Dawson. I will have to make up names for everyone else, so bear with me.

I don’t remember the exact date this happened, but it was within the last ten years, and apparently it happened in Alpine. I lived in Alpine from ages twelve to fourteen, so I’m going to guess that the time frame had to be between 2002 and 2004 at least. Carl Dawson was a couple years older than me, so he was in high school when I was in middle school. The film went over Carl’s past, and it was this that upset my dream self.

Carl’s real parents were killed in a car accident when he was a baby, and later was adopted by a couple with the last name “Dawson,” so he inherited that name as well. We’ll call the woman Anne Dawson, and the man Will Dawson. At the time they adopted Carl, they already had a three year old biological son, and we’ll call him Kyle. Pictures were shown of the family and the house, and these pictures included birthday photos that were mostly of Carl and Kyle. Carl had medium-long, wavy blonde hair, and Kyle had short brunette hair. Anne honestly looked like a meth addict. She had badly bleached blonde hair with dark brunette roots showing, alarming bags under her eyes, yellow teeth, and just looked pretty trashy. Will was a little on the chubby side, but he was tall, looked strong, had greying hair, and was very intimidating. The house was also messy and poorly taken care of; you could tell the family didn’t make a lot of money. They also had a grey cat.

The parents had a history of drug abuse, alcoholism, and could never hold steady jobs. On the upside, Anne cared very dearly for her sons, even if one of them wasn’t her own flesh and blood. However, her relationship with Will wasn’t a healthy one, and Will would beat the shit out of her when he was drunk. He didn’t hit the children, but I consider what he did much, much worse. This is the part that upset me, and it’s also the reason why Anne and Will fought so much.

Will had a habit of molesting Kyle, and poor Carl fell victim to it as well. Unfortunately, Anne didn’t even know about it until Carl was two, and his behavior toward Will started to change. He became afraid of him, less talkative, and didn’t like to be touched by anyone. Kyle had always had behavioral problems, being hyper active, somewhat violent, and Anne had to keep him from hurting the cat. She assumed he was just that way, but Carl had shown noticeable changes that made her worried. She tried asking Carl if daddy ever hit him, and he said, “daddy told me not to tell.” She ended up calling her best friend, saying she suspected her husband was abusing Carl, but she had to hang up quickly when she heard Will walk through the front door.

Then, when she was changing Carl’s diaper, she noticed bruises around his lower body, and came to the horrifying conclusion that her husband had raped their adopted son. This caused a huge fight between Anne and Will, resulting in her being savagely beaten in front of both boys. Will also took the opportunity to tell her that he had been doing the same thing to Kyle for years, and that if she knew what was good for her, she’d keep her mouth shut. Will threatened to kill her if she even tried leaving. Anne was sickened by this entire thing, but couldn’t help but wonder why Kyle hadn’t shown drastic changes in behavior like Carl had. Then she figured that all of his behavioral problems must’ve come from the abuse in the first place.

Kyle got less “attention” than Carl did as the boys grew older, and that’s because Kyle was now “too old” for Will’s interests. Kyle continued to be a very bad kid, torturing the cat, killing random animals outside, breaking objects, fighting at school, and hitting his adopted brother. Carl spoke less and less, and became very afraid of people, including other kids at school, and this caused him to be bullied. It didn’t help that their family was poor, so his clothes were shabby. He spent a lot of time in his room where he’d pin up doodles he made on lined paper to the wall. Even as childish scribbles, they weren’t very happy looking.

Things escalated for Carl as time passed by. Kyle was hitting puberty, so now, on top of his preexisting problems, he now had to deal with hormones. Being raped by his own father messed with his mentality, and made his view of the real world and social interactions very warped. Kyle started sneaking into Carl’s room at night and molesting him as well. With both his adopted father and brother sexually abusing him, and with his mother constantly drowning her sorrows in substances, Carl’s trust in humanity was broken, and so was he. The only living creature he seemed to want to even be around was the cat.

When Carl entered middle school, he was still quiet and afraid of people, but he was now entering the transition into manhood. On his first day in sixth grade, he wasn’t sure where his first class was, and a seventh grade girl named Mary (this was her actual name in the dream) noticed how lost he looked. She was very petite, having long, straight dark brunette hair, peachy skin, and was wearing a black shirt, grey skirt, and black leggings that stopped below her knees. Lastly, her shoes were simple black flats, and wore no socks. I’m not sure why she stuck out to me so fiercely, but I think it was because this documentary was showing this past segment as if the camera man had been there while it happened, which was impossible. There were quite a lot of moments like that, some I’d rather not go into detail about.

Carl immediately took a shine to Mary, but he wasn’t used to speaking to people, so he was very nervous. He stuttered when he spoke to her, stumbled over words, said words wrong, and sometimes said the wrong thing completely. This didn’t bother her at all, being smart enough to recognize shyness, and being kind and confident enough to tell him it was alright. After this first encounter, Mary considered Carl her friend, and he’d follow her around like a puppy following its master. He practically idolized her because she was so caring and nice to him, and she even stood up to his bullies for him. Having a girl stand up for him didn’t emasculate him, but caused him to fall for her even harder.

It seemed like life was getting just a little better for Carl. The police were called by their neighbors after a particularly violent outdoor domestic disturbance between Will and Anne, and Anne took the chance to tell the police that Will had raped their sons. She didn’t know about Kyle doing the same thing to Carl because Carl wouldn’t talk about it. Will was arrested, and Anne took her children and cat to live in a small house in Alpine (I guess they were living just outside of the town beforehand, so they didn’t have to change schools). It wasn’t much nicer than their old house, and was even a bit smaller. Carl didn’t mind, because the house just happened to be right next door to Mary’s, and could even see her bedroom window from his own.

However, even though one of his life’s horrors was out of the picture, it didn’t change the fact that Carl’s mind had been severely messed up. Even after Kyle started “visiting” him less frequently, Carl still viewed the world very differently. He and Mary entered high school, but he never asked her out, and she was oblivious to the fact that he was madly in love with her. Little did she know, his “love” was actually a very unhealthy obsession. He wrote her name all over his walls, drew pictures of her, and watched her through her window using a cheap telescope. Whenever she had any interaction with another boy at school, Carl would draw pictures of himself killing them in many different and horrific ways. In these pictures, it always depicted Mary praising him for “saving” her from the filthy men of the world.

Kyle was a senior, and still a very bad kid, committing juvenile crimes, abusing drugs, and getting violent for pointless reasons. After school one day, he actually came up behind Mary, wrapped his arms around her, and tried to feel her up, but she turned around and pushed him away, shouting at him. Carl flared up as well, telling his brother to keep his hands off of her, but he punched Carl in the face and told him to shut his mouth, or he’d regret it. Mary didn’t take too kindly to this, so she socked Kyle right in the face as hard as she could. Enraged, and not afraid to hit a girl, Kyle lunged at her, but a teacher stopped him. He was suspended for about a week.

This would be the biggest week of Carl’s life. Anne worked two jobs, so she was rarely ever home, even for days at a time. One of these jobs was prostitution, so she was mostly gone at night. Kyle was now forced to stay at home for a week, and due to Carl’s and Mary’s retaliation, he was extremely hostile toward Carl, hitting him whenever he had the chance. Carl constructed a home made lock to install on his door to keep Kyle out of his room so that he’d finally have peace, and he spent his time spying on Mary through the window, writing in his journal, or writing and drawing on his wall. Some of it was written on scraps of paper pinned to it, but most of it was written on the wall itself. It showed obvious obsession over Mary, and when she couldn’t be seen through her window, he’d stare at places he had written her name.

Carl also had gotten his hands on an inexpensive digital camera that could take low quality pictures and video, though it wasn’t capable of recording audio. (I’ve actually had a camera like this, so that’s probably how my dream fabricated it.) He didn’t use it much… at first.

Kyle had recently started going out with a girl from another school named Wendy (actual name in the dream), so during his suspension, he’d bring her over. This was actually the first time Carl had ever seen her, and he found her very beautiful. Incredibly quickly, he became just as obsessed over her as he was with Mary, and started writing her name all over his walls as well. There were now two girls in his life he was madly in “love” with, and Wendy didn’t even treat him nicely. Why did he become obsessed with her? Maybe he idolized beautiful women because one had never harmed him in the way that his father and brother had. He even considered his own mother a lost cause because she was so far gone anyway, and she was never able to stop the abuse. Plus, she was so junked up, she had long lost her beauty, if she even had any to begin with.

Carl had an unhealthy obsession with spying on Kyle and Wendy when they had sex, and his obsession with Wendy was already unhealthy enough. Midway into the week, Kyle spotted Carl and became enraged, as was wont to happen, and Carl tried running away. Kyle, only wearing his underwear, chased Carl outside and grabbed him, tackling him to the ground and punching him repeatedly in the face. Wendy had gotten dressed and followed them, and she simply watched with satisfaction. Seeing Wendy with her arms crossed and smile on her face became Carl’s breaking point, and he went into a sort of blind rage where he had no control of what he was doing, and didn’t even realize he was doing it. This caused him to summon strength he had never used before, and he pushed Kyle off of him, standing and grabbing a nearby shovel that was sitting in the yard. Terrified that Carl had a weapon and a bloodthirsty look in his eyes, Kyle and Wendy ran back into the house, but didn’t think to close the door behind them.

The two hid behind the couch, and once Carl entered with the shovel, Kyle jumped out and kicked it out of his hands. Wendy ran back outside to keep away from the danger, sitting against the side of the house and crying. Now that Carl had no weapon, Kyle thought he’d have the upper hand, but was proven wrong. The two fought violently, both getting covered in cuts and bruises, and Carl had landed a punch that broke Kyle’s nose. Kyle pushed Carl into the wall next to their mother’s open bedroom door, and Carl ran inside, grabbing the gun that Anne kept under her bed for protection. This made Kyle frightened again, holding up his hands and backing away, trying to apologize to his brother. As they slowly made their way back into the living room, Carl was breathing heavily, but the gun he pointed at Kyle was held in very steady hands. Kyle attempted to dash out the open door, but was shot in the head, collapsing to the floor.

Hearing the gunshot, Wendy screamed and made to run away from the house, but Carl had come out and smacked her in the temple with the gun handle. She fell to the ground, still conscious, and started screaming when Carl dragged her back into the house, where he shot her in the head multiple times. Both her and Kyle were dead, blood covering the floor, and some splattered on the nearest wall.

Alone next door, Mary was doing her homework when she heard the yelling coming from Carl’s house, then became horrified when the first shot was fired. It was followed by a series of female screams, and the next few shots caused her to run downstairs and out her front door. She sprinted over to Carl’s, seeing the door was open, and she ran in to see what had happened. This had not been a good choice. Mary screamed upon seeing the two dead bodies on the floor, and an unrecognizable Carl with a gun in his hand. At this point, Carl had come out of his blind rage, but he didn’t regret what he had done. Realizing she had stumbled upon a dangerous situation, Mary immediately made to turn around to run through the door again, but Carl grabbed her from behind, wrapping an arm around her throat, and choking her. She struggled, but became limp as she lost consciousness.

When Mary woke up, she was lying on the floor of Carl’s room, which she had never been in before because he had never even invited her over to his house. She soon realized that her hands were tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied together very tightly, so she could only squirm with fright. Her eyes scanned the room, and she saw hers and Wendy’s names written on the wall in multiple places, as well as obsessive expressions of love, drawings of the girls, and drawings of Carl killing other guys. Mary also spotted the telescope pointed at the window, which she knew was right next to her own bedroom window. The next thing she noticed was Carl scratching out Wendy’s name with a knife, though he hadn’t gotten to all of them.

Scared, Mary demanded Carl to tell her what was going on. He knelt next to her, telling her how pretty she was, and that he loved her so much. He took the knife and cut into his palm, which didn’t seem to hurt him, and used his index finger to touch the blood, applying it to Mary’s lips as if it were lipstick. This, naturally, did not calm her down, but scared her even more. Then Carl took the digital camera and started taking pictures of her, showing her each one after he took it. He also leaned his head close to hers, taking a picture of himself with her. Mary told him he was sick, and that she regretted ever being his friend, but this angered Carl. He slashed her upper arm with the knife as he shouted about how she was just like everyone else, that he couldn’t trust anyone because everyone he ever cared about only ended up hurting him. After being maimed, Mary tried a different approach, apologizing to him and saying that she did care for him, and that she could help him.

Carl used the digital camera to take a video, propped it on his bed, made perfectly sure that it was pointed at Mary, and began stabbing her repeatedly in the chest. When Mary was dead, he untied her, grabbed the camera, and filmed her lifeless body up close for about a minute. Then he turned it off. He didn’t take care of any of the three bodies in the house, but instead sat on his bed and wrote in his journal, explaining about what he had done in a fit of anger, and then what he had done when he had come back to himself.

A lot of this part of the story was told through showing the scenes of what actually happened, which, as I mentioned before, would’ve been impossible. However, I soon found the role I played in the documentary. I was chosen by the director to interview Carl’s parents, Will having been released from prison just a year before filming. They lived in the same house, and Will and Anne had “found God,” so they no longer indulged in unhealthy and criminal vices. Will said Jesus had come to him in a dream, saying he’d be forgiven if he vowed to never harm another human being, so he believed he was saved. I asked them questions about how Carl was as a child, and about everything that happened in their household, so a good chunk of the story was told by them. The rest of the information had been gathered from reading Carl’s journal, observing his bedroom wall, and recovering photos and video footage from the camera.

To my conscious self, there was still the mystery of why I was interviewing them in the first place. I watched myself interacting with the cat, who was now very old, as well as being led around the house by Anne while she told me where everything happened. Will was raking leaves outside when I asked him questions, but I didn’t want to spend too much time with him because of his disgusting past with his children. The director did his fair share of interviewing as well, so I was not alone.

We went to the police department to ask the officers involved with the case some questions, and they told us everything they could legally disclose. We also interviewed the families of the victims… and this was when I found out more than three people had been killed. It was one of those “but Kyle, Wendy, and Mary were not the only ones to lose their lives to Carl” moments to increase suspense. Two more girls had been murdered in Carl’s bedroom, but his would-be sixth victim had escaped her fate.

I watched myself being led up to Carl’s old room by Anne, and she opened the door, turning on the light. The blood had been cleaned up, the digital camera and journal had been taken in by police, but everything on the walls was left the way it had been. The police had taken pictures of the walls as evidence, and Anne and Will decided not to clean them up as a reminder of how they broke their adopted son. It was a form of self punishment. I examined the walls, seeing the names “Wendy” and “Mary” crossed out by a knife’s blade. There were three other names written on the wall as well, but I can only remember the name of one of the two other girls that were killed: Morgan. We’ll call the other girl Sandra. Both “Morgan” and “Sandra” were crossed out, but the third name was not, and that was because Carl only crossed the names out after he killed them.

There were poems, drawings, and words of longing expressed toward the three girls he captured after Mary. He had fallen in “love” with them the moment he saw them, stalked them, kidnapped them, and brought them to his house all within the span of a few days. First to get caught after Mary was Sandra, and as she lay unconscious and tied up on the floor, Carl wrote about her on his wall. This is what she would wake up to, as well as the dead body of Mary laying right next to her. According to his journal, he had already met Morgan and the third girl by the time Sandra was taken, so his obsession over them were on the walls as well.

Using his mother’s makeup, he applied heavy eye shadow and lipstick to Sandra’s face, and then took pictures of her like he had with Mary. He explained to her that she was a beautiful girl, confessed his love to her, but said that her beauty had made her as corrupt as the rest of the horrible people on this planet. “Even though I love you, you have to die,” Carl said, “but we have to learn to let go of the things we care about.” She screamed as he set the camera up on his bed, pointing it at her and using the video function to record a video. He watched her struggle for a few minutes, and she pleaded with him to let her go, that she didn’t even know who he was, but the camera was unable to record her voice.

Carl ended Sandra’s life by beating her mercilessly with the shovel he had almost attacked Kyle with. Even after her body stopped moving, he hit her face constantly, and by the time he grabbed the camera to show the details of her body, her face was unrecognizable. After the video was stopped, Carl untied her, left her body where it was, used his knife to scratch out her name in the various places he had written it on the wall, and sat on his bed to write the event in his journal.

Next to come was Morgan, who actually was one of my friends at my middle school at the time. This is the reason I could remember her name. She woke up on Carl’s bed, but was able to see Mary’s and Sandra’s corpses on the floor, which was stained with huge amounts of blood. Carl was sitting next to her, stroking her brown hair, and she started crying and whimpering. He said, “even though you’re a few years younger than me, I still find you so beautiful.” Once again, he confessed his love for her, and she asked him if he had raped her. Carl was overcome with rage and yelled at her, saying he would never do such a thing, that he was insulted she’d even think that. “Don’t you understand? I love you, Morgan! I don’t ever want to hurt you!” he said. She asked why she was tied up, and Carl responded by saying that beautiful women need to die so that they don’t hurt him or anyone else ever again. He somehow didn’t count killing as “hurting” someone, but felt that pain was more of an emotional thing, and that’s what he meant by “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

While Morgan had been passed out, Carl had dressed her in one of his mother’s dresses, which was a little too big for her. After explaining that she needed to die, he did her makeup, but cut his hand again, running it over her hair and tinting it red. It was now damp and slightly sticky. Carl then told her he’d spare her life if she smiled for all of the pictures he took of her, so she did, even smiling for the ones that Carl included himself in. Of course, when he was done, he told Morgan that he lied, and set the camera up on the bedside table to video record her. She pleaded with him to spare her, but he held up the gun he used to kill Kyle and Wendy, then emptied the two remaining bullets into her head. As usual, Carl filmed her body, then left it on his bed as he crossed out her name, and added another entry to his journal.

The name of the third would-be victim sent me into confusion and distress. I watched my face fall while my eyes scanned the wall, seeing certain things that I recognized. Carl had drawn Divel and Sticky the Female Mad Man in some places, which were two of my very first characters that I invented in middle school. I found the name “Kara” written everywhere, included in the mess of obsession. “Kara” is my real name, and I definitely did not remember being kidnapped. While this was filmed, the director explained to me that he asked me to help him with the documentary because I had been the only person who survived Carl’s killing spree. I was so confused, I started crying, asking him how that was possible when I had never even met him.

Apparently I had met him. In fact, stalking me was the only reason he had discovered Morgan. The scene changed to back at the police station, where they handed over the journal for us to read. The officer turned to the first page that mentioned my name, and it told the story of how Carl and I met.

He was in high school, and I was in middle school, but Alpine was a small town that I often walked around in with my friends, or even alone. I didn’t feel unsafe there; nothing bad had happened… that I knew of. I had met Carl at the grocery store not too far from my apartment, but I’ve always been pretty afraid of people myself because I have my fair share of mental problems coupled with a traumatic past, though I later admitted to myself that Carl’s situation was much worse than mine. I encountered him while picking out some candy, and ran straight into him as I exited the aisle. Shyness being one of my flaws, I avoided eye contact as I apologized repeatedly, stumbling over my words like I always did in front of strangers. I had dropped my candy, and Carl picked it up for me, handing it back.

“Are you shy?” he asked in a surprisingly quiet voice that had a bit of a stutter. My fear of people made me want to get away from him and out of the store as quickly as possible, which was normal for me, but the question intrigued me too much to make an excuse to purchase my candy and go. I finally looked him in the eyes, and I could see there was something very dark behind them. He was so pale and sickly looking, and his expression was completely blank. I wasn’t sure if I was afraid of him, or even more curious. I told him I wasn’t very good around people, and he said he had the same problem. I tended to get along better with boys anyway, even since I was a young child, so meeting one with fear or social interaction made me feel a little more comfortable.

Carl followed me as I bought the candy, and then we sat outside to talk. I shared the candy with him, and he told me that he’s only had one person he’s felt comfortable enough to really talk with, and that was his friend Mary, who had moved away recently. Now he had no friends, was bullied constantly, and life at home was less than desirable. I told him I was bullied too, that many of my only friends had been special education kids when I was in sixth grade. Even though I had never been in a special education class in my entire life, I was called a “retard” because I hung out with them, but the reason I hung out with them was because they were the only ones who were nice to me. When I entered seventh grade, I changed the way I dressed to fit in, and stopped hanging around my old friends to try and stop the bullying, which was a very unkind thing for me to do, and to this day, I’m not proud of my decisions. Bullying didn’t stop, but I was able to make new friends, one of them having been Morgan at the time.

We actually connected a lot even though he was older, and he offered to walk me home, saying it wasn’t safe to go anywhere alone. I humored him because I was enjoying his company, so we went back to my apartment complex, and I said goodbye to him. He asked me for my phone number before I headed up the stairs so that he could talk to me if things got bad for him, so I wrote it down and gave it to him. He watched me as I entered my apartment, which was on the second story.

Reading this entry caused heavily repressed memories to return, and it terrified me. The director asked me if I was remembering something, so I filled in the blanks, the things that Carl had not been able to write about in his journal.

Carl didn’t call me for a few days, but when he finally did, he sounded like he had been crying. He said something really bad happened, and that he wanted to talk to me, but in person. I told him to come over, and we could walk around while he told me what was wrong. I met him outside, then we left the complex, and he asked me to come to his house so that he was in a place where he felt more comfortable. I was nervous, but agreed, so we walked to his house.

As I read the journal entries about me, I learned that, during those days I hadn’t heard from Carl, he had been stalking me. He followed me to school, watched me from afar while I was at break or lunch, saw me talking to Morgan in PE, and followed me home. He sat outside my apartment, staring up at my window, which I usually shut the curtains to. I kept the actual window open to let cool air in because I hate getting too hot, so he could hear what I was doing. I usually listened to music while drawing or doing crafts, but I also had an old hobby where I used my dolls to record plays and stories on an old tape recorder. I had actually done this since I was little, which eventually evolved into my interest in video making and narrations.

Morgan was mentioned a lot after seeing her with me at school, and he had stalked her as well. Then the journal mentioned that he had killed Morgan, and now I was next to be taken for the sake of cleansing humanity, though Carl admitted in the entry that I was less of a cancer to the world than most people he’s met. Still, to him, I was pretty, and pretty girls will do nothing but hurt others, just like all men will. There were even doodles of Divel and STFMM in the journal, and it never told me how he even knew about those characters.

Upon entering Carl’s house, I immediately saw the bodies of a teenage boy and girl lying on a large brown stain near a wall. When I was younger, I was much less desensitized to gore, and was definitely afraid of death, so this was a terrifying sight for me. Before I could let out any sort of scream, Carl had grabbed me and put his arm around my throat, choking me until I passed out just as he had with Mary.

I woke up, wrists and ankles tied together, inside Carl’s bedroom in front of the door, which was closed, but I had a full view of the three dead girls in the room. I recognized the one on the bed as Morgan, and I started crying. Carl had been sitting on the bed, watching me as he flipped a knife over and over in his hands. He smiled as he stood, and then knelt next to me, a digital camera in his hands. “Don’t be scared,” he said, “you’re much more beautiful when you smile. See, Morgan was smiling…” Carl then showed me the pictures of Morgan, and she had indeed been smiling, despite being tied up and wearing way too much makeup. Then he showed me the video of him killing her, and told me that pretty girls have to die so that they don’t hurt people, and even though I was a lot like him, I was no exception.

I have been convinced throughout my life that I am not at all pretty, and that stems from the fact that I look exactly like Erin. I told Carl that I wasn’t really that pretty, but he insisted that I was beautiful and that he loved me. “But even you have hurt me,” he said with spite, and he showed me a comic drawn on lined paper of him killing a boy that looked familiar to me, and then showed a girl that looked like me smiling about it. “You’re dating this boy,” he stated. It was true that I had recently started going out with a boy named Lance. “I almost thought you were the exception, but I was wrong.”

I was scared an confused, wondering how he expected me to feel the same way about him if we only just met, and spent barely an hour together. Carl said this is why pretty girls need to be eliminated, because they can’t help but hurt people, even when they’re not trying. He compared them to all men, but said men are different because they know they’re hurting people, and they enjoy it. I asked him why he thought he was different than other men, and he said, “because I’ve discovered the truth.”

Just like he had with the other girls in the room, Carl applied heavy makeup to my face, but I was still wearing the clothes I had left my house in, which I later assumed were pretty enough for him. He took pictures of me, showing me each one in turn, but I was disgusted by the terrible makeover, especially since I had become obsessed with trying to look beautiful to fit in at school. Then Carl set up the camera on his bed, recording a video of me, and standing over me with the knife. I was scared out of my mind and screamed as loud as I could. I was always told my scream could break glass, which was not true obviously, but it was still a pretty effective distraction.

However, Carl was distracted by a second scream from downstairs, and he seemed to panic, backing away from me as running footsteps came up the stairs. I watched as a woman, who I later found out was Anne, his mother, burst through the door. She saw the bodies, and then looked at me. Anne bravely wrestled the knife out of her son’s hands, and it fell next to me. My hands were tied behind my back, but I was able to sit up, grab it, and with difficulty, cut the rope around my wrists. Anne had Carl pinned to the floor as I cut the rope binding my ankles, and she screamed at me to run, so I did. Not wanting to stay in the house, I ran to the closest public store and told them to call the police, that people had been murdered.

The memories were even more vivid when the officer showed me the photos Carl had taken of me, as well as the video. I felt a little sick as I watched myself about to be murdered, and then escape, but the camera hadn’t been shut off as Anne fought with Carl. He managed to throw her off of him and grab the knife, and Anne backed out of the frame. He went after her, and everything was still for a couple of minutes. Then Carl fell to the floor in front of the camera, the knife falling out of his hands, the open wound on his throat bleeding profusely.

The officer turned the camera off, explaining to us that it continued to record Carl’s dead body for a good five minutes before the SD card finally ran out of space. It was concluded that he had killed himself. What I didn’t understand was, why didn’t I remember any of this?

They told me that, after the incident, I was put into therapy, but it wasn’t doing any good. I was losing sleep, and when I did sleep, I was plagued with nightmares, reliving the event. After a few weeks, I told the therapist that I just wanted to forget, so she decided to tell me about an experimental treatment that involved hypnotism. I didn’t believe in that stuff, but I was willing to try it. After being hypnotized, the therapist was able to wipe my memories of the experience, and even meeting Carl in the first place.

It wasn’t explained in the dream how I didn’t hear about my escape from people who read the newspaper or watched the news on TV, but I had heard about the other murders, and that someone got away alive. In reality, forgetting the event would be impossible, and there’s no way they wouldn’t have reported about the one survivor. I’m guessing that it’s possible (in the dream) that they kept my identity a secret, saying there was an anonymous survivor, so I’m going to assume that’s what happened.

The documentary switched back to me speaking with Anne, and she told me that, after I escaped, Carl had thrown her off. She backed away as he pointed the knife at her, but told him that she was sorry she couldn’t have saved him from the torture he endured, that no one deserved what happened to him. She was sure that Carl’s real parents were up in Heaven, looking down at their poor baby living in Hell, and that there was no way Anne was ever going to be up there with them after death, but she hopes they know how sorry she was. After hearing all of this, Carl had started crying, and then slit his own throat, killing himself.

The film ended with a scene of me before I had discovered the truth of my involvement, petting the old cat and smiling. The director’s voice over said, “some speculate that Carl did not kill himself, but that Anne had grabbed his hand holding the knife and forced him to cut his own throat. There’s no proof of this, but it’s this point that makes the story very mysterious. Did Carl actually commit suicide, or did Anne Dawson kill her adopted son? We may never know, and Anne certainly denies the allegation. Nearly a decade after the tragedy, Kara has remembered what she experienced, and it may take some time for her to really come to terms with it. The families of the victims give words of encouragement, hoping that she values the life that was almost taken from her. Carl Dawson’s story remains a dark stain on history, one that is impossible to forget, no matter how hard you try.”

After watching all three parts of the documentary, I sat away from my computer and sighed, wiping the tears that had come from my eyes. My dream self had known exactly what the film contained even before I watched it, having remembered everything during filming, but it was a massive shock to my conscious self. Other than the tears, my dream self didn’t seem to express how I felt about the situation, but left a comment under the third part. It said, “this turned out very good, I’m glad to have been a part of it.”

Then the dream changed to my male rat Sammy actually being a girl, and the reason she was so fat was because she was pregnant. Within twelve hours, she gave birth, the babies grew fur, opened their eyes, and were running around my apartment. I had to round them up and put them in a cage. It was as if the previous dream, so complex and detailed, never happened.

It’s not often that I remember a dream so clearly, and I’m surprised I was able to recall almost everything. This entire post is almost eight thousand words long, and I doubt anyone has read this whole thing. It doesn’t matter to me, I just needed to document it, but I wanted to share it just in case people are interested in reading the whole thing. I feel a little better after getting this out, but my throat feels tight when I remember what poor Carl had to go through, and even what Kyle went through until he started doing the same thing.

I’m not sure what this dream means. Maybe it’s telling me I will lose my life by being murdered someday, maybe it’s telling me I will escape from a murderer. Maybe it’s simply telling me to value my life while I can. Or maybe it was showing me some sick, subconscious fantasy combining my fear of people with my fear of experiencing a painful death. It’s no secret that, even though I don’t fear my life ending, I am afraid of being tortured or dying painfully. That’s why I am able to write “Muffins,” because I write about what I’m afraid of. It’s therapy in a sense.

Whatever it means, I’m glad it’s over.