Waking Dreams

It is something that very few suffer from. It is torment beyond comparison to any other that would take the time to consider it. To dream while one is awake, to see what your subconscious hides. Many say that they do not dream, they are incredibly wrong. Their subconscious is overbearing for them. It sucks the dream from their consciousness so fast that whether or not the tossed and turned all night, their dreams keep them safe.... keep them sane.

Very few suffer this fate and yet here as I write I am one of those that do. Sleep is never well for me, I never find my rest. It held true when I was mortal, it carried through in death to who I am now and ever onward I curse my sleep.

These waking dreams, nightmares, of things beyond the veil of reality, the frayed edge long forgotten and long misused. Every time a demon uses their magic, or a vampire pushes their power, it tears back another hole, another thread. They misuse this power, it is what I have come to understand that Toxia must be made from. Those holes are easy to leak through, to come to this awful city, this waste of land and try to survive.

Yet I digress from my purpose. Last night I came face to ... horrid face of that of Selk'Tar'Oth.

The vision simply began, darkness all around me swelled and pressed against my body, I was siting in a great cavern and when my eyes finally adjusted to the dim light of this dreamworld all was dead. The ground moved and I stood bare in all of my so-called glory, pale, shivering as it was too cold. My body temperature runs about 43.7 degrees, this was near ice. I held myself tightly, both in modesty and in trying to keep my body temperature from dropping. I looks down to see the ground crawling with all manner of tiny beings, creatures, they scattered from the light that my eyes cast, brilliant in this travesty of a land.

I looked forward to see what I could not have seen before, there in the distance stood one very similar in my shape and face, but twisted. Her hair was matted, her face peels back, her teeth exposed and ever chattering, gibbering, whispering a thousand voices, growling all at the same time; creating a cursed hum all around her.

I ventured forward, taing hesitant steps towards this being. She almost seemed to smile at me and gestured me closer. She bowed to me and hissed all at once, the voices stopped and in a singular tone that was both beautiful and grievous she spoke, "Hello Felice... it's been a long time but I'm glad you finally found me here."

Through chattering shuddering teeth I replied, "You know me, I only know you by name and power alone. You are Selk'Tar'Oth. Both terrible and great, your power cannot be compared to another."

She nodded her wicked head and sighed, crossing her arms. "Oh yes, and you know better than that I'm sure, you a smart little bird aren't you." She did not give me time enough to answer. She waved a gnarled hand at me to keep silent. "You know that in dreams is most significant, most powerful, I will not stand here wasting time to answer questions that can't be answered. You've only found me because I let you. But I know why you're here and I know why your pale ass will be here again." she huffs at the look I make and somehow seems to roll those black eyes of her. I stare at her blatantly and see the stretch of the universe in her eyes. The galaxies swirling and being torn apart perpetually changing, ever growing and ever destroying, making me feel utterly small and insignificant; I finally look away as I hear her chittering laughter.

"You sicken me sometimes." she says heaving with a dry breath, exhaling with a wet sickening sound from her gut. "You are so weak in this little head of yours, were it not for my- ahhh.... monologuing will be the death of me!" she raves in a jeering laughter once more, "But I came to you in a little trinket that your mother and father gave to you... your prize procession... the only thing that had with you when you arrived in that damned city." she rubs her hands together, looking at me, making my skin burn and crawl with her gaze, "Your dear... golden... pocket watch."

I awaken to find my bed clothes are wet with a tingling sweat, my hands balled into fists, my nails puncturing my palms have broken the skin. I am tired... my body does not seem able to recuperate from these tender wounds. I reach over to my night stand to read the time on my pocket watch. With a shuddering hand I open it, hearing shrieks, cries, and agony, I hold it closer to me, against my chest and heave forward; I felt my chest tighten. Finally I cry, my tears black, staining the front of my night dress and the sheets around my waist. "I cannot be whole..."