A terrifying escalation; Dreams made real

Last night was bad – the worst we’ve experienced so far. I’m not sure how much more I can take of this, and last night it affected Wendy too, and she’s still pretty shaken up. Honestly I’m still not sure of everything that happened or even how some of it happened – it was really weird, and not just the dreams. I don’t even know where to start, so I guess I just try to start at the beginning.

I went to be the normal time, around 11pm, and I felt good, actually – things have been somewhat quiet lately, and I haven’t seen anything really strange in almost a week. I don’t know if something triggered it, or it was a full moon, or whatever, but it seems like almost as soon as I fell asleep I started dreaming – really vivid, terrible dreams that filled me with dread. I could feel the hot, sulfurous wind against my face again, could feel the rocks cutting into my feet. The soldier was there, and more chanting, seeming louder than before, maybe closer, I’m not sure. I could clearly hear those dread syllables, ‘Yog Sothoth’, repeated in the chant like the tolling of some blasphemous bell. There was a new figure out there too, I think – I’m not completely sure, things are still jumbled, unclear, but I have a sense that there was something else. Not the hooded figures, either – I’m certain it wasn’t them.

Here’s where things get weird, and I honestly don’t have an explanation. In the dreamscape I walked to a large stone – not a table, but somewhat flat and very broad – and I started to trace lines and circles all over it. I had no idea what I was doing, and it was totally out of my control. I couldn’t tell what it was or what shapes I was tracing – it made no sense to me – until I started to bleed. My fingers, tracing over and over again across the rough stone, began to bleed, and the image, that bizarre symbol began to take shape in glistening red. It hurt, too – I remember it clearly, feeling every cut and tear of my skin as I traced the lines and circles faster and faster, unable to stop, seeing my fingers bleed more, the skin torn off of them as I drew, as the silent demon soldier stood and watched and the hellish chanting grew to a fever pitch.

Wendy shook me awake. She said it took her several tries, and she was about to slap me. I was disoriented, but I could tell she was crying and shaking. I also realized I wasn’t in bed – I was kneeling in the middle of our living room. I have never sleepwalked, and I don’t know how I could have unconsciously made it all the way from my bedroom to my living room, down a narrow, twisting flight of stairs – it simply doesn’t seem possible. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. I was kneeling in my living room, yes – with a notebook laying open in front of me, my fingers ink-stained and still grasping a pen from the counter.


I’ve never seen anything like it before. Not even close, actually. It’s drawn in ink and yes, that looks like blood mixed in. It’s not my blood, though – I’ve checked quite thoroughly – and we don’t have any pens or markers or paints of any sort that match that very particular color. I don’t have anything even close to resembling a rational explanation for this. How could I?

I asked Wendy how she even knew I was out of bed. She looked so shaken, so terrified, her eyes more haunted than I’ve ever seen them. She said she was woken up by the sound of chanting. She swears by it – the sound of multiple voices chanting woke her up from a pretty sound sleep. She said the sound was definitely coming from downstairs, in the living room, and at first she thought that I couldn’t sleep and maybe I was watching TV too loudly, so she was heading downstairs to tell me to turn it off and come back to bed. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, though, the chanting stopped abruptly, everything got ‘eerily silent’, and then she found me kneeling there in the middle of the floor, apparently asleep, with the notebook in front of me. She said there was a smell too, but she couldn’t describe it. By the time I was alert enough to understand what was going on, I didn’t smell anything.

So we’ve decided to lock the door now when we go to bed – I don’t know what that will do, but it will make Wendy feel better. I’m looking into a few other options as well, some things I’ve come across in my research that might help. I’m open to anything at this point, and praying certainly isn’t helping…

About Chad

Just a normal guy with a lot of very abnormal stuff going on.

One thought on “A terrifying escalation; Dreams made real

  1. […] and bizarre sounds like some nightmarish chanting coming from nowhere, and I’ve woken up drawing strange symbols in blood that didn’t seem to come from anywhere – you could say my mind is a bit more open to the […]

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