I feel as if I am standing in the eye of a kaleidoscope.
is starting again let me share it with you so I can better deal with it in my waking hours
if awake I am. My dream always begins the same in a house I use to live in during my
The dream begins as follows.
The first thing I take note of is the
quality of the light coming from outside. The light is unlike any I have ever seen before
its a strange blackish red black up higher in the sky going to a blood red near the
horizon. This I observe while looking out the sliding glass doors. Nothing else can be
seen but a empty horizon no houses, trees or sighs of life. There is a feeling of dread
deep fear. The kind you feel only in dreams a fear that lurks just behind you as turn a
round it is not there or anywhere to be seen.
Looking around myself I try to figure out where I am.
in a house that I lived in years ago when I was perhaps three or four. I'm standing in the
kitchen near the glass doors behind me is the couch in the living room. To my right is
rest of the kitchen. I turn away from the doors. Making my way to the couch I pass a open
hallway leading to the rest of the house. I stop and listen for sighs of life in the rest
of the house. I'm alone. But the feeling of dread grows steadily. I take a seat on the
couch my gaze drifts around the living room from wall to wall. Oddly enough the whole
house is empty but the couch. On the wall to my right is a painting that I have never see
before and feel as if I never want to see it again.
I rise from my seat and approach the painting.
The frame is made
from wood in the likeness of many bodies twisted in both pain and ecstasy finely done by a
skilled hand. In size the frame is three feet wide by five feet tall an imposing picture.
The picture is an oil painting, the subject of the picture is many bodies buried alive
under the earth above them there are people that have been tortured and torn limb from
limb. The sky in the picture is black at the top fading to a blood red near the bottom.
Just like the sky outside. Horror, what is this thing and who would paint such a thing.
I back away from the picture looking for a way out of this place
and to get away from this horrid thing. The door that's where I'll go! My breath starts to
come in a short shallow gasp sweat begins to pour out of my body as I turn to glass doors.
My body will not respond I feel like I have lost control of my limbs. In a
panic I turn for
the door, a man a black man is standing before me blocking my way to the door and the
way out. The black man wore an ebony top hat upon his head, his face is painted to
resemble a skull on his shoulders hung a black vest and a simple pair of pants completes
his garb. A voodoo witch doctor is what he appears to be. There are also white gloves on
his hands these I notice last because he has lifted one of his hands to call my attention
back to the painting. I do not wish to look back at the thing but I am unable to resist
his commands. He begins to speak, the words that he utters fall past me like scolding
water. I am unable to make sense of what he is saying for now the frame has begin to move
upon its own accord and this has taken up all my powers reasoning. The bodies writhing in
agony others in ecstasy but all in abject worship. My dismay has grown to a point that I
can not tear my gaze from the painting as it has comes to life. I can hear the cries of
the people see the blood flow from their wounds. My god when will this stop?
Such a horrid
thing surely my sanity can not take much more. Then the laughter started, the black man
laughs at me and my despair. He speaks again about the people and their pleasures of how
they are giving them selves to Cthulhu. What is he saying? How could this be my god when
will this end? Laughter again, his maniacal twitter not laughter from pleasure but the
tittering from a fiend. Unable to control myself I look once again at the painting.
I wake up from my dream shakily I standup still hearing the
laughter ringing in my ears. Good god it was only a dream. It seemed so real so real the
touch and sounds even the colors all as if I where in my waking hours. Will it be there
again when I go back to sleep?
Cthulhu, when first I heard this name I did not know who or what
it was. I have now found out what it is a Great Old One that's sleeps under the
ocean waves communicating with humans through their dreams feeding off their fear.
would I be chosen for this dream or glimpse of the future. The black man was he
Nyarlathotep the messenger of the old ones? These questions plaque me in my waking
moments. With this my days are filled with fit full sleep and my nights are spent trying
not to sleep for fear that I may once again have such a fright full
vision. When next I
went to sleep the dream begin anew.