For the past week and a half I have been performing a specific ritual before bedtime, as outlined by William Jameson, to try and counter the effects of the spell I performed that called upon the power of Azathoth. I’ve done it every night, as required, and the dreams have been tolerable, the escalations few and far between.
I guess I got complacent, or maybe I was just over tired and didn’t want to have to deal with it, I’m not sure, but I did not do the ritual last night. I didn’t do any part of the ritual, I just went to bed, and things got bad again – really bad. I’m not even sure where to begin.
The dreams got very vivid; almost as soon as I fell asleep I felt like I was pulled out of my body by invisible strings, racing across vistas of onyx black malevolence. I heard a high, discordant piping sound and saw figures and structures my mind couldn’t really make sense of; they looked like they didn’t belong together, I can’t describe it at all but I still see it in my head, the images hiding just beyond my reach, threatening to break through into madness.
I heard the wind shrieking as I flew, but it sounded once again like a chant of blasphemous whispers calling out from the darkness, as if there were beings out there in the shadows, calling to me with dead, black tongues.
I have said that it was as if I was pulled by strings, but the last part of the dream that I can clearly recall showed a different image, one I hesitate to even type. In the dream, I chanced to look up – well, direction had very little meaning in this dream, but suffice it to say I raised my head and looked in the direction that I understood as ‘up’. Above me, to my horror, I saw I was being carried by a thin black figure, slick and rubbery, flying on wide, membranous wings. It had no face that I could see, and it made no sound. It seemed not to even recognize that I was there, it just carried me in long black talons, coursing through the desolate black void.
I screamed at that point, both in the dream and in real life, waking Wendy with a terrible fright. It had been so long since I woke up screaming, it startled her terribly. We went downstairs and had cocoa and I recounted the dream to her, admitting that I hadn’t done my nightly protection ritual, and promising her I would not forget again – as if such a thing were possible after last night.
I’m trying to convince myself that the experience was completely relegated to my dreams, and that the strange shadowy shape I saw pass over the skylight was simply a trick of the light combined with my overactive imagination.
So far, I am unsuccessful at this.