Dream: I Blame Sinsiter_Dr_X and Seventh Seal
Sunday, June 15th:
Four of us watched television in a finished basement. I told musicin68 that I wanted to watch one more disturbing cartoon, but she was more interested in playing with her blue-green girlfriend on the stairs, so I left them to it.
Alyssa was still asleep, so I set my receipt on the back of her couch.
I went upstairs when the cartoon ended and walked to the front door to lock it for the night, now that the open house was over. A sudden movement reflected in the window caught my eye; I turned around and crouched just as Dan swung a heavy book at my head, his face red with anger.
"Who are you planning to kill?" he accused, still panting.
I recognized his weapon as one of the occult tomes I stored in the unfinished basement; he must have wandered in during the open house. In a rush, I imagined him flipping through the unsavory volumes, opening the cover of a tome from 1822 which described methods of torturing children with needles. I nervously explained that I kept those books so that I could recognize dark rituals, not to perform them.
I stood and put my arm over his shoulder, walking with him as I recounted our last campaign against unspeakable evil. My words conjured the scene around us; we stood in a manicured grove of cedars. A squat, octagonal crematorium built of dark brick hunkered in the center of the garden. An odor like baking sweetbread packed the damp night air. Flashes of orange and green rumbled within the crematorium, bright enough they shone through the alabaster windows in its sloping roof. A column of white fly ash fled heavenward, chased by ribbons of orange and green sparks. Unearthly baying echoed in the distance.
'We've vanquished the body of the dark god,' I explained, 'but the hounds of Tindalos will nip at our heels until the day we die.'
Four of us watched television in a finished basement. I told musicin68 that I wanted to watch one more disturbing cartoon, but she was more interested in playing with her blue-green girlfriend on the stairs, so I left them to it.
Alyssa was still asleep, so I set my receipt on the back of her couch.
I went upstairs when the cartoon ended and walked to the front door to lock it for the night, now that the open house was over. A sudden movement reflected in the window caught my eye; I turned around and crouched just as Dan swung a heavy book at my head, his face red with anger.
"Who are you planning to kill?" he accused, still panting.
I recognized his weapon as one of the occult tomes I stored in the unfinished basement; he must have wandered in during the open house. In a rush, I imagined him flipping through the unsavory volumes, opening the cover of a tome from 1822 which described methods of torturing children with needles. I nervously explained that I kept those books so that I could recognize dark rituals, not to perform them.
I stood and put my arm over his shoulder, walking with him as I recounted our last campaign against unspeakable evil. My words conjured the scene around us; we stood in a manicured grove of cedars. A squat, octagonal crematorium built of dark brick hunkered in the center of the garden. An odor like baking sweetbread packed the damp night air. Flashes of orange and green rumbled within the crematorium, bright enough they shone through the alabaster windows in its sloping roof. A column of white fly ash fled heavenward, chased by ribbons of orange and green sparks. Unearthly baying echoed in the distance.
'We've vanquished the body of the dark god,' I explained, 'but the hounds of Tindalos will nip at our heels until the day we die.'