| Chapter Two The Beast at the Edge of My Bed |
| How many of you have nightmares. How many remember them and if so, wants to remember them, even in part. Me ... I seem to walk through life and have with me a cloud that circles over my head , to much of time, for my liking. I drop my feet over the edge of my bed and "Clunk ..." my heal bumps ... into something always lyiing in wait. Something that has no need for rest, nor cares how long it takes to wake me from my slumber, or better yet, keeps me awake to that slumber. Walking from my bed I turn, there it is, with a grin as cold as a fridgid night and teeth as sharp as the blade of a razors edge. There's no other reason for its coming except to disturb the little ones. For we are the ones with so little power to defend ourselves and we are the ones who when we dance we do it in earnest and he knows it so well. Our imaginations are ripe for the picking, hardly taking an ounce of effort to send us down a road of vengeful spirits and dispare. Here is where the beast comes to play and plant the seed that will festor and decay, that when it blooms, it does with a venom that only a cross and some garlic might ward away. But who has that defence at their disposal in the norm of life. And especially in a dream. So I lie awake to many nights, letting sleep overtake me only when all else fails. Failing with distractions to chase away the thoughts. Failing with anything that will change my feelings to anything but what its facing here and then. I am but a failure again, and again, again. The sence of it is overwhelming, I'm being sucked down a channel that has only one station, that one lies in an alien zone, one that has no happy ending. Totally burnt and I finally fade away, sometime four, sometimes 5 AM, just before sunrise. Grandpa's up for work and I'm not alone anymore, I can here his footsteps coming down the stairs, peace and sleep. But sleep brings those evil ones, in an instant and immediately, there is no rest for me. Beasts that have nothing better to do than to bother me. My feet seem to be buried past my ankles, wish I had a saw, I'd know what to do to escape. Jigsaw taught me that, oh yes, he's been part of the picture way before the movie ever came. I'd tair me limb from limb, if it meant not facing these odds. My body, rigid from the fear that holds me captive eeks out a thought that might just get me through another night. Fly away you fool, fly, fly, fly. In dreams every imaginary fraction of hope is link to your positive side in times of stress and be that as it may, my feet being bound I command myself to wing forward to where it doesn't matter, as long as it is away from here and now. The creature at my bedside is ready to persue without a moments haste. It's got wings of its own and anything else a nightmare would need to take the upper hand for the win. "Beast be gone. Oh blasted beast be gone." But all know it would be no nightmare if it were as simple as that and I scream to no avail, it followed and right at my tale. "Beast you are not real!" I cried over and over again. I saw a crevice between two tall buildings, a sliver of hope. I headed straight for it, as if hiding was an answer to this delemma of this dream state. But knowing that I had no choice and though this made so little sence, I did it. I closed my eyes as tight as tight could be and wished desparately for a waking state. I awoke and it was dark. My sheets were rumpled up and I was in a swet. But I was safe and for the moment, it was over. I better check things out. These eyes of mine were open wide as I edged to the side of the bed. Up popped a face, with a snakes eyes glow and a set of teeth that matched the beast I had seen but before, it was he. "Not again! Not really again." I hadn't woken at all, but slipped into another dream with the same familiar tune. The beast is at play here and nothing, nothing will make this right. Not a Holy cross, not the purest water blessed by the Father Himself. For in dreams what reality comes to pass. Only the ones created by oneself and for fact ... anything goes and surely it did. Until next time when we meet the two again and more ... pleasant dreams everyone. |
the mad monster maker
| The Thing that's under my sheet. |
| Wrote this tale in early June 2009. Drawing was done recently added in 2009. Page created in June 2009 |