Dream Journal: HIM

When I usually dream its a white barren landscape with no organisms, and no life; without a story to tell. But last night was different. Last night while I laid in a warm bed, underneath colorful blankets, I dreamt of obsidian trees and starry nights. I dreamt of black creatures and terror-filled moments. I dreamt of him.

My dream began with me standing next to a blue-eyed priest on a farm, where the ground was black and moist and the moon shone. Off in the distance a man was chopping firewood to keep his house warm tonight. The man, who’s name I didn’t learn, walked over to us. His white skin was the texture of old paper, and his long brown hair touched his shoulders in waves of curls. His sad brown eyes stared into mine as he introduced himself; I shook his dry cracked hand before staring off into the distance. My feet sunk into the muddy ground as the priest and the strange man conversed. After what seemed like forever we all walked towards a poorly-lit house.

Inside I noticed the peeling wallpaper and the antique radio by the dirty stove. The house was a spitting image of the owner – old, weathered, and cracked. According to him ” no one had lived in creepy-houses1the house for 15 years, other than him” and it showed. The living room was dusty and lifeless, with the only object in sight being a chair and a portrait of a middle-aged woman. The farmer led us through the hallway and showed me my room.

“This is where all the activity has been occurin’,” the farmer said with a southern accent as he pointed to the room that contained a small bed and a brown chest. As I stood in the doorway I began to understand why I was here; the house needed to be cleansed of evil spirits.

The priest looked at me and said “sister Katya won’t have a problem staying here, correct?”

I nodded my response and stepped into my room while the priest shut the door and walked away. I heard their voices echo as the farmer showed my companion to his room, and finally retreaded to his own. I took my mud-covered shoes off and slipped under the cold covers. The small window let a bit of moonlight shine into the room and bounce off the walls. The branches that screeched against the glass lulled me to sleep.

I woke up, in my dream, and the moon still shone up high and bright. The sheets were covered in sweat, which I didn’t quite understand because winter’s bite was present in the room. I laid there paralyzed as my mind wondered. I was deep in thought when I heard the chest at the foot of my bed shift.

I watched as the top rose with a groan and let out an obsidian foggy creature who chilled the room and swallowed the light. The Creature, Him, was wispy and airy with red beady eyes; any other physical features were lost in the trails of black air that enveloped him.

I watched as he hovered above me. My throat closed up and I found myself unable to call for help. His eyes stared deep into mine as my body became paralyzed with fear.

“You’re coming with me,” it rasped out as he rested his cold-as-death fingers on my cheek. I opened my mouth to let a shriek out, and it slithered in without a second to waste.

I opened my eyes and found myself laying in a warm bed, protected by the blankets.





North Mesquite High School, blue prints author. Sophomore and band aficionado.

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