That Was Terrible
Outright motherfucking terrible. I don't dream often, but when I do they're really goddamned awful. And the kind of drinking that usually ends in going to schools to give presentations really fucking locked it into my mind.
The set up to it was someplace/sometime that felt antique and old, but in a lived-in sort of way. Like a hotel that was crappy in the 1880's and is now a historical site, or something similar. I (Yes, me, or some variant of me) was living in a garret of this house set to the side and somewhat back from an older road. I had some part in a travelling carnival that'd settled in to a mostly abandoned or just really cheap to rent inn; I can't quite recall, just the feeling that it was the best accomodation available at the time. Not somewhere respectable people would go. Lots of overgrowth that's frozen without much real snow anywhere.
And it's not that bad, to a point. I'm writing some sort of journal about life on the road while generally enjoying the winter alongside of disreputable but entertaining people. It gets fuzzy here, but the next clear memory are the inside lamps and candles swinging and being thrown about because there're primitive humans in the room. Not cro-magnon types, because they appeared intelligent and more of a modern day homo sapien build, but exceptionally hirsute. Physically twisted, like they'd gotten wrenched around at random and it stuck that way.
I'm running and trying to get away, even though it feels pointless. The distinct feeling that they're not that interested in coming after me, or there's enough time to leave before it's my turn for what's going on. Again, a blank spot here, but apparently I'm with another travelling group of some kind. Beggars or just intinerants or something, because there's the same feeling of having a not-altogether-unpersonable time with disreputable people. And somehow we're back at the same location for some reason, and it's nighttime with stars in the skies. And there's no sign of anything having happened previously, however long the time lapse was supposed to be. We're standing out front and I'm trying to tell someone that we need to leave, because they're coming back.
Now this part happened all relatively quickly, and is about where I woke up. I was looking at a group of people with my back to this house, and when I turn around again I just have this feeling looking at the house that something's wrong. I'm trying to point out what it is and am increasingly starting to gibber about it, when I notice a face in a dark window. I whip around to the group again to try and point it out, and just keep saying 'Something's there, it's him,' and no one else can see it. And then someone says 'Over there?' in a sort-of casual voice and I look to the other end of the house, where -they- are pointing. It's this statue of something like what attacked that earlier group and, unsurprisingly, this doesn't settle me down at all. I'm still trying to figure out when that statue appeared there when I see something underneath it watching us, and it's one of them. He starts to come over, walking with determination but patience, and I'm reaching out to someone to grab their arm or get between them and it or just feel something physical, when the thing is with us. I'm trying to point it out and articulate some kind of warning, when it just walks in behind the guy I've been trying to communicate with. It's staring at me, and stroking pretty sharp looking fingers over the guy's neck, kind of a cross between petting and mimicking a throat slashing. That's when I wake up.
Not once did I really feel threatened. Violence and all and arcane creatures are creepy, yes, but I think the most terrifying part both during and after the dream was realizing that I'd been trying to say something akin to 'Not again' during both encounters, and the pangs of deja vu that surrounded it.
The set up to it was someplace/sometime that felt antique and old, but in a lived-in sort of way. Like a hotel that was crappy in the 1880's and is now a historical site, or something similar. I (Yes, me, or some variant of me) was living in a garret of this house set to the side and somewhat back from an older road. I had some part in a travelling carnival that'd settled in to a mostly abandoned or just really cheap to rent inn; I can't quite recall, just the feeling that it was the best accomodation available at the time. Not somewhere respectable people would go. Lots of overgrowth that's frozen without much real snow anywhere.
And it's not that bad, to a point. I'm writing some sort of journal about life on the road while generally enjoying the winter alongside of disreputable but entertaining people. It gets fuzzy here, but the next clear memory are the inside lamps and candles swinging and being thrown about because there're primitive humans in the room. Not cro-magnon types, because they appeared intelligent and more of a modern day homo sapien build, but exceptionally hirsute. Physically twisted, like they'd gotten wrenched around at random and it stuck that way.
I'm running and trying to get away, even though it feels pointless. The distinct feeling that they're not that interested in coming after me, or there's enough time to leave before it's my turn for what's going on. Again, a blank spot here, but apparently I'm with another travelling group of some kind. Beggars or just intinerants or something, because there's the same feeling of having a not-altogether-unpersonable time with disreputable people. And somehow we're back at the same location for some reason, and it's nighttime with stars in the skies. And there's no sign of anything having happened previously, however long the time lapse was supposed to be. We're standing out front and I'm trying to tell someone that we need to leave, because they're coming back.
Now this part happened all relatively quickly, and is about where I woke up. I was looking at a group of people with my back to this house, and when I turn around again I just have this feeling looking at the house that something's wrong. I'm trying to point out what it is and am increasingly starting to gibber about it, when I notice a face in a dark window. I whip around to the group again to try and point it out, and just keep saying 'Something's there, it's him,' and no one else can see it. And then someone says 'Over there?' in a sort-of casual voice and I look to the other end of the house, where -they- are pointing. It's this statue of something like what attacked that earlier group and, unsurprisingly, this doesn't settle me down at all. I'm still trying to figure out when that statue appeared there when I see something underneath it watching us, and it's one of them. He starts to come over, walking with determination but patience, and I'm reaching out to someone to grab their arm or get between them and it or just feel something physical, when the thing is with us. I'm trying to point it out and articulate some kind of warning, when it just walks in behind the guy I've been trying to communicate with. It's staring at me, and stroking pretty sharp looking fingers over the guy's neck, kind of a cross between petting and mimicking a throat slashing. That's when I wake up.
Not once did I really feel threatened. Violence and all and arcane creatures are creepy, yes, but I think the most terrifying part both during and after the dream was realizing that I'd been trying to say something akin to 'Not again' during both encounters, and the pangs of deja vu that surrounded it.