My Disturbing Dream



  • I read "There is a Gap" this evening, and was inspired to share my own creepy dream... Looks like it's been a week for nightmares!
    My Creepy Dream
    I can hear the Doctor arguing with the citizens again… They burst into his home more and more frequently… I can never seem to hear any specific words in their debates, no matter how long they converse, or how heated the yelling becomes, I can never pick out exactly what they are saying…
    The Doctor is more and more distracted each day, he is restless, shifting from one ritual to the next as if hoping that some change may have occurred while he was looking away… he cares for his charges with fevered and sporadic energy… what concerns me the most is that he has begun to stare into the ocean, not for long, but it is disconcerting to see him without his momentum, he has always seemed so tireless and persistent, the staring is unnerving because it belies weariness and perhaps even mortality…
    I follow the Doctor from the first charge, this small one is nestled just outside our home in a small alcove of mud and sand and seaweed, the small pale figure with waves of fiery orange on the top of its shimmering scales is elegant and beautiful, the trickle of muddy water from under our home perched above the alcove brings life giving fresh water for the docile goldfish. I think of it as a goldfish, with its wavy red gold fins gently drifting with the current, it is amazing that under the scummy water such beauty can remain untainted…
    We arrive at our second and third charges, I think of them as mice or perhaps small cats, they are so ragged that it is hard to pin down their semblance, it is a difficult hike to their location, they are hidden in a small hut made of straw bales, within the shelter of those walls these two paw restlessly at one another, they roll and crawl over each other, nuzzling as if to be certain that they are not alone. It is worth the hike to see them moving still…
    Our fourth charge is within the walls of our home, we have taken to climbing up the muddy slopes of the alcove through a hole in the exterior wall, the citizens do not bother us from this entrance, from here we have a view of the ocean and it is here that the Doctor has begun to pause and survey the pristine beauty of the reefs and shoals beneath us. The water is always a startling shade of green or turquoise accented by icy white foam. Further out the water becomes ever increasing shades of blue until it touches the sky…
    The fourth child is the weakest of our charges, and he barely moves when we make our ritualistic trek to his hiding place. I see him as he lays in his box with feathers all matted and muddied, as a blue jay, smaller than an adult, but with the plumage that should indicate he is ready to fly and search for a mate… I have never seen him try to fly, he rarely moves…
    We have to be in our home when meal time comes, or the citizens will stop giving us food. I do not notice what they bring us today, I do not even know if it is a feast or a beggar’s pittance... eating is another ritual, done without relish, and over without notice…
    The Doctor is often sitting and staring into the ocean, I have started to visit the mice by myself… they are moving with less energy, I know they are dying… I do not know why, although disease is more than likely from the countless corpses upon which they are sleeping. I think at some point the citizens had been trying to cover the decaying bodies with the straw, for some reason or other they abandoned that project completely, leaving piles of straw and bales stacked next to piles of decaying bodies. The grisly sight makes the hike more tiresome than the actual walking…
    I can see citizens fishing and swimming on the beach, I can hear their laughter and ease. I wonder if the Doctor envies them…
    I know that these rituals are very important, the Doctor seemed to think there was nothing in the world more important, but I begin to grow weary, I know that my charges are dying, so what good can I accomplish? The citizens do not want to keep feeding us…. The Doctor argues more and more heatedly with them…
    The Doctor is gone… I continue in his stead, my only friend, a young woman, makes the trips with me. She seems attached to the bird and the fish, but she will not go into the fields with me. The world seems to have grown darker in the Doctor’s absence.
    I can hear the squelching and snapping as I hike through the fields, I can see the rot and decay, I can hear gurgling from gas passing through the unused organs of the deceased, I can’t quite decide if the corpses belonged to cows or horses or perhaps llamas… it is strange that I can see, feel, and hear them, but I do not smell anything….
    One of the Mice is gone! The other was crawling and mewling piteously in search of the lost one. I cannot find him… I have searched over and under every carcass. I spent most of the night out in those polluted fields with nothing but vermin for company as I searched, but to no avail... I am afraid that without her brother, this mouse will not last long…
    The Goldfish is missing! My young friend is franticly scrambling down the muddy slope searching for her dear friend without success, I worry for her safety but am unable to summon the energy to bound down the slope the way she is, I make the arduous trek down around the beach, the bright sun and sounds of gaiety are so incongruent with my temperament that it seems unreal. I finally reach the side of my young friend, she is on her hands and knees staring blankly into a shallow cesspool, I see the tears pouring from her cheeks, but she doesn’t make a sound, I suddenly realize that I can no longer hear any sounds, not the beach or the citizens, I am perhaps numbed beyond hearing by the sight of my charge floating belly up in the filth, her beautiful red gold locks stirring fitfully as if willing life back into the body from which they once received instruction…
    The Blue Jay has not moved in days, it is cold and stiff, my young friend holds him tenderly but I can see despair in her eyes. She is still so full of feelings, I think that I must feel something, these tremendous failures happened during my watch, shouldn’t I feel shame? Or sorrow? I do not feel anything…
    I stumble through the fields knowing already what I will find, but driven by some unseen force to complete the ritual and bring an end to this…
    It is darker than ever, the bodies and bones I clamber over seem to watch me, the toothy jaws seem to leer, and there is a …heaviness… to the air which makes what little light there is seem distorted and hazy. I find the bales of straw, stacked neatly to allow my charges to hide inside; the young creature is laying very still, her neck at a disturbing angle the same leer on her decaying features that was decorating the remains outside… I close my eyes… I can no longer see…
    Then I woke up.
    I apologize for the terrible writing; I woke up and tried to pour it out into the computer as fast as I could while it was still fresh. The result is this super rough draft which was written in a near stupor from morning grogginess.


  • Plotist Team: Community Storyteller

    First off, thank you so much for sharing. Second, at no point in time did grammar, or spelling, or anything come to mind. I was literally draw into this world of ritual, life, death, and emotion.

    The fact that you were able to get this out is incredible. Dreams, both nightmare and not, inspire me to create. They can literally turn a week from excellent into terror, or vice versa. Night terrors are a pain in my rotund behind at times. Still. This is incredible and if you're looking to take it even further, or keep it as it is, what you have shared is incredible to me.



  • I agree with @Josey. This was excellent.

    It feels very much like a dream, the way it drifts from idea to idea, and doesn't seem like it should make sense because of the missing pieces, yet still somehow does. I'm very curious about the rituals, and the animals and people seem to be connected-- as each one becomes weaker, so does the other...

    As for the grammar... I think grammar isn't necessarily the most important thing. I like experimenting with grammar from time to time when I write, to see how it helps (or doesn't) an idea flow. Sometimes it just gets in the way of the mood. :P


  • Plotist Team: Keepers of Code

    This is a really amazing story! It might be the stupor, but it actually feels like a dream. You managed really well to recreate a dream with your words. It's not coherent, there are many weird things going on, but at the same time it has some logic and a good flow.

    And there are many things there that makes me curious, like who is the Doctor (no joke intended) or why did he become involved in this. There are many hooks you can use to connect other pieces and build something bigger. Or just leave it as it is, I like it just like that.


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