Spread the Word of Awesome!

Posts tagged ‘nightmare’

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.

Advertisements

“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.