Yan ang sabi ng mga classmate ko. Haha. Totoo nga naman brain torture yung Physics saka Math exam namin, lagi. Madali lang sana yung math exam namin alam ko kung paano e pero mahal kami ng subject teacher namin kaya dinamihan niya. Time consuming kaya magsolve tapos konti lang yung oras na binigay. Alam na namin yung mga score namin dun, nagpababaan pa kami. Ayoko na umaasa na aabot ng 80 yung score ko dun, ang dami kong hindi nasagutan e. Pero bawi naman kanila Sweet, late celebration ng birthday niya pagkatapos namin ma-torture. Haha. Ayos lang e, bawi naman.
The unpleasantness of having Night Terrors when you're me, is that you remember them.
In the throes of anxiety over my continued unemployment, the fact that my car insurance has probably run out, and struggling with a fever, a few nights ago I had a vicious Nightmare. About a murderous ghost.
A ghost that looked precisely like this. A desaturated version of a drawing I did a few years back. -shudder- Imagine this approaching you and you KNOW it's going to kill you.
I was in a Baroque-style French mansion with this woman, of around the age of fifty. I came to these stairs. Though no ordinary stairs, as they both ran down into a basement, and up into the attic...ESCHER STYLE. One set of stairs were normal and led down, the other set was immediately above these ornately decorated normal stairs, and were solid polished hardwood. The aging bitch who had brought me to this place, with a damnable air of condemnation permeating it, had brought me there...as a sacrifice.
To an angry ghost.
I knew by the sight of those stairs that there was no way out of my predicament. I tried to talk my way out of it, but my words fell on impatient and self-centered ears. As I tried to find a way up the upside-down staircase, I realized that although this was a supernatural place, the laws of physics held firm, and I found that I could not defy gravity to scale them. They lead to the only place of which I would be safe from the murderous spectre, eagerly awaiting the nearing time of which it would be set free in the mansion, to claim me. My anxiety to get out mounted, and it was set free. The woman went to a place guarded by enchantments she herself and another man who looked to be Persian had placed, and I ran in dead panic to anywhere in the house that I knew there was a door or a window.
Suddenly, all of the windows and doors had disappeared. By then I was in a dead panic. I felt like a small child, hardly able to think through the mounting dread that overcame me. I felt faint, and I yelled angrily for someone to let me free! I bolted from a lavish, though maddeningly decorated corridor to an atrium, that was beginning to be lined with a black fog, and I knew that I was to die very soon.
The atrium was open to a courtyard, of which I immediately entered. I knew that the apparition was hunting me, looking to corner me.
It did. And I died, it's horrible face was the last thing I saw before it entered me, and I began to seize, as my organs were liquefied.
But I didn't awaken from the nightmare this time.
No!
I was forced to relive the scenario once more! It was as if I was a video game character, with more life than one, and I was back in front of the Escher staircase. I learned from the old bitch who'd lured me there that the ghost was that of a man whom she'd killed in order to summon a demon with the Persian man. And for that, the man's ghost was so thoroughly ensnared by madness that he thought that any living being he came across was her. Suddenly, it was again as though there was a pressure bearing down upon me, and the anxiety mounted within me again--about to relive death at the hands of a murderous ghost once more.
This time however, I found a way up the upside-down staircase. I grabbed the banister and climbed up it Sloth-style and found some of my belongings! Then, windows began disappearing again and I knew that the ghost would find me and I wouldn't have any time to try and convince it that I wasn't HER, and that I was on his side. My machete was flung out of the last remaining attic windows just as I picked it up, and the window disappeared. I knew that there was no way I would be able to kill the woman and the Persian with my bare hands, as they were guarded by dark magic, that only the aid of the ghost would be able to shatter their defenses and allow me to do the grisly deed.
I jumped down from the attic, and began to panic again, I felt the ghost bearing down on me. Things grew dark, and I began to sweat. I at one point nearly went down into the basement, but thought better of it as that would certainly be a death sentence as there would be nowhere to run. So I ran out to the atrium that lead out to that courtyard where I had first died. I saw the man's ghost almost immediately. And also, my machete. Sticking up out of the ground in front of where the ghost appeared. He moaned this sickly, angry, indescribable sound at me and I screamed at the top of my lungs "I'M NOT HER! I'M NOT FUCKING HER!!! I'M ON YOUR SIDE!!! HEAR ME GODDAMN IT!!" Just then he charged at me and I felt nauseous as he passed me, just missing me as I dodged and grabbed up my machete and got ready to dart in the direction of where the woman and Persian was, the living room. I my plan was to lead the apparition to them and try to get it to attack them instead of me.
However, things were different as soon as I was holding my machete. The ghost whirled around, furious I had dodged, and stopped and glared at me. I looked down, tears streaming down my face to the sword in my grip, and back up hurriedly at the ghost. Something about me holding one of my own possessions snapped the ghost out of his madness enough to see that he was attacking what was very nearly another one of the woman's victims. Just then, the woman entered the rainy, dismal courtyard.
Wrong move.
I screamed "THAT'S HER! THAT'S GODDAMNED HER! SHE'S THE ONE WHO KILLED YOU! I'M ON YOUR SIDE! LET'S GET THIS BITCH!"
And just as I raised my machete, ready to charge and strike, the ghost made quick work of her. As I watched, I saw it permeate her flesh, and wherever it's caustic black touched her, the flesh melted into a sick soup and dripped to the grass. She was nothing but a liquefied pile of mess and skeleton within seconds.
I killed the Persian.
The dream ended with the ghost freeing me, and I sadly bade it a good afterlife.
---
As triumphant as the ending to that whole experience was, I awoke with a start after my twisted brain FINALLY let me go, and was soaked with sweat and wracked with feelings of dread.
