A Journal

[thisblackcat]

Hands

You can tell a lot about someone by their hands.

I remember my Grandma’s hands. She had these long fingers, with veins that wrapped around them like vines on tree branches, and nails usually cake with dirt underneath them. Her palms were rough and yet smooth, like the seashells I used to collect from a beach trip. She would hold her palms open and I would drop as many as I can in them. My fingertips usually brushing against those calluses. 

She had strength in those hands. Those hands helped her grab a lamp to defend my mother and me. As well as throw a chair in anger at us. They held her face, when she cried in despair after, and then help her pull me close in a tight hug in apology. They pulled her up from a fall. Clapped in joy at Sunday church and how they would misplace anything and EVERYTHING. 

I remember how tightly they clung to mine when we had to leave the nursing home and how carefully they traced the walls of our home when she could finally come home. 

How cold, and yet, still so warm when they touched mine for the last time.

[thisblackcat]

Perfection

“It’s so lovely!” 

“Riveting!”

“Masterpiece.”

Many people gathered around to look. To gawk in awe and stare in utter fascination. Grinning faces and soft gentle murmurs of excitement. Men in gently tailor suits nodded in agreement. Women in neatly place scarfs and comfortable leggings clapped. It wasn’t finished, no, but the artist was diligent with their tools. It was truly a magnificent work of art. 

Every layer stripped and torn, falling down into ribbons. Paint splattered on the floor in abstract puddles and strokes. Delicate valleys with red flowers and pinkish hills. Oh! Look there! A pale blue pool, bright turning so dark to black, in one of the hills.  Another one to the left. A pale tree with thin branches and leaves. Then another. Another. And another! Until a small forest was formed. Rain was added. So heartfelt!

Oh, and the sounds! The small gasps of air every here and there. A whimper in a groan. The crowd sighed in unison. It was truly amazing. The artist much be so proud of there work. 

Because what truer art is there then to rip one’s very being apart. 

From flesh, blood and bone.

[thisblackcat]

It all started with a dream.

She dreamed about sitting in a room. There are no chairs, but the floor beneath is cold. No windows. No door. Not that it would be easy to see such things. It’s dark. Not dark, like how one would turn off the lights and shut themselves in a closet. In a closet, you could touch things. Know that there was a door to get out. A switch to turn on the light. No, all that is here is nothing. Pitch dark.

Absolutely nothing. No stress from life’s daily routine. No pressure from society. No financial struggle. Just breathing in the void. Slow breaths. In and out. It’s tranquil. She sits there taking it in, but it doesn’t last. 

Lonely. Anxious. 

After a while, the darkness closes in. She feels a great weight resting on her chest, crushing her sternum. Hot, unseen hands press against her forearms. Her heart kicks into gear; blazing pass anxiety to full panic and when she tried to breathe, she couldn’t get any air. Struggling, she stood up and bolted forward, hitting what seems like a wall. Feeling around frantically, she tries to find a way out. Moving to the left, she feels something like a handle. A door! She grasped it but when she turned, it wouldn’t budge. Tears burned in her eyes as more hands try to grab at her. She felt something breathe at the back of her neck and the stench of rotting meat filled her nostrils. Throwing her weight against the door as hard as she could, the door finally gave and she fell. 

She heard the door slam shut behind her. It was still tenebrous. 

The floor now felt unnatural. Still cold, but now it was like touching the surface of water while not absorbing moisture. She quickly got to her feet and ran. 

She keeps running until she’s out of breath, nearly collapsing. Looking up, she sees something in the dark ahead. Two glowing orbs. Finally, some light in this darkness. She catches herself and moves forward. As she gets closer, she notices something off. The lights are closer to the ground than she realized. They also start to move. Frozen, she slowly starts to make out what it is. The orbs aren’t lights, but eyes! They are like TV static, illuminating the floor beneath them as a small black paw steps toward her. Each step made the floor ripple, a pen dipping into a bottle of ink. She can see the feline’s face outlined by its eyes, that are too large and round for its small face. There is this feeling of dread the closer it gets.

“Fuck this!” She rasps, voice strained through panic as she turns to run away. When she thinks she ran enough, she looks behind her. The cat still walks to her. As if she didn’t run at all. She tries to get away, but all is in vain. She faces the cat.

 “Go away! Leave!” She cries, tears running hot down her cheeks. The cat still advances. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” She sinks to knees; muttering curses and curls into herself. There is no escape in this place. No hope.

 The cat closes in.

[thisblackcat]

Venting

So why exactly should I continue? Why should I not give up on my passions? Tell me. Give me a reason. No one really liked what I did. I didn’t even like what I did half the time. So why? Because I’m good at it? Because it makes me happy? But does it? Am I good at it? Really. No one really took notice of it. Never gave me any criticism. If they did, it was like they could care less. I was showing them a part of myself. Something I was proud of but it only ended up snuffed to the side. It felt like I was invisible! All I wanted was to connect... through something... anything...  So why should I continue to draw? To write?

“Oh, why don’t you go online and find a group to talk about these things?” I was sharing something that I liked with you and you didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t care. I listen to you. I cared about what you liked. Have you any idea how hard it is for me to try and talk to anybody? I panic. I feel less than adequate as a person. Stupid. I don’t matter. I feel like I’ll be pushed to the side again. I’m not like YOU! I can’t just randomly start a conversation. I can’t just casually join a conversation. My opinion doesn’t matter. I’m invisible. Looked over. Nothing to concern yourself with. Why should I even bother? Why should I even speak?

I wish people were more honest with me. Like if I did something wrong. Tell me. I want criticism. Let me know! How would I know I’ve wronged you? How would I even know I upset you?! Because you're what, trying to spare my feelings? Because its better let it be? Please. Harms already done right? 

 You want to hang out in a group. Great. Fine. I end up being the silent wall in the background. I try to say my opinion but its never heard. I try again but I’m ignored. Like do you want me there as this silent walking corpse that you want tagging along? I don’t want to be silent. But I feel cornered. Inadequate. Less than human. 

I use to be sincere. I use to care. Be compassionate. Considerate. Inspired. Hopeful even. Warm.   

All I feel now is cold. Anger. Pain. Spiteful. Panic. Misery. Fear. Dread.

Dead. That’s what I am now. Dead.

That spark of inspiration, the warmth of fire and the fleeting heartbeat of joy? 

Dimmed. By life? By a dead-end job? By insincerity? Lack of creativity. By people? Debt? 

Killed. 

Murdered by me. Myself. I. 

I am lost in a void of nothingness. 

And my only company is a black cat.

[thisblackcat]

The Journal

It sits patiently. Propped up in the corner, against the new Webster’s Dictionary. A travel guide with no known author. A book about cats in tiny hats, and some cheap romance novel. You know, because you took a peak at all of the discarded, before you dare touch it. You don’t know why. The small stylized book was what really drew you over. Yet,something about it seemed ... special. You had to view it last. It was light in your hands, with a smooth grey cover. There was an odd symbol on the front, a knot of sorts, but not like the Celtic knot. This was almost uncomfortable to look at. It was like a hundred snakes twisting in a square. The color of the symbol was a faded orange, which was odd, because it the cover looked new.  There was no text on the book. No author, no publisher’s address, no bar code. Blank besides the symbol. 

Intrigued you flipped the cover.

 There on the first page in big fancy letters read;

RELEASE 

  YOUR DREAMS

       AND LET THEM

          FLY

Oh, you think. It was just a journal with an interesting choice of cover. Until your eyes dropped down. There just a little below was something written. In fast and frantic writing it said:

NO! You shouldn’t! For if they are loose the dark will spread! Dark as ink, thick as tar! Keep them close, keep them LOCKED. Caged. For if you release them the- 

Your eyes widen. The last sentence trailed off into a black subsistence that was sticky. You almost dropped the book. That wasn’t there before.  

Neither was the bloody finger prints... 

[thisblackcat]

A Conversation

It was the same as before. Sitting in a void of nothingness. Feeling calm and relaxed, before the dark got too consuming. Then I got up and start my walk towards nowhere. 

Same old, same old.  Darkness, darkness everywhere.  Until I came across the cat again. My heart starts to beat in the rapid tempo of panic. I stare up above me as if not directly looking at it will somehow make it disappear. But on accident, I glance at it. It still sat there. Patiently. The large, strangely static eyes still aluminated it’s outline. 

But this time, things were different. This time the cat spoke.

“Are you afraid?” Its voice was smooth and soft. Almost a whisper. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

 Fully looking at it now, I tentatively replied, “Yes...” 

The cat tilts its head to the left. “Why?”

I thought about it. Why was I really afraid? The dark didn’t scare me. I just felt lonely. The cat freaked me out. It was weird and unsettling. There was a panic every time I looked at it. But why? I like cats. I like black cats. I like spooky things too. So why did a black cat with static eyes scare me so much? I should be thrilled. 

“I don’t know.”

 A head tilt to the right the cat said,” Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.”

 I stared at it. “Did you just quote Aristotle?”

“Yes.”

 I laughed but I thought about what was said.  “Are you evil?” 

“I do not think so.” The cat replied. It watches as I glance at the darkness around me. “Does the dark concern you?”

“No. It's just kind of lonely after a while.” I answer honestly. 

“This world that I live in is empty and cold, the loneliness cuts me and tortures my soul.” Said the cat. Was that another quote? 

 We sat in silence for a while before the cat spoke again. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” I glanced around me. “I just kind of end up here when I fall asleep.” 

“Then for you, this is just a dream?”

“Yeah, I guess.” 

The cat stood up then. “Then maybe you should wake up.”

And I did.

[thisblackcat]

This Black cat. The freaky cat from the dream.

[thisblackcat]

A Not So Normal Day

It started normal. So very normal. 

After work the other day, I stopped at a drug store to pick up some new sleeping pills. The ones I was using weren’t working so I decided to try one more brand. I have gone through three so far and I was thinking that if this one didn’t make a difference in my current sleep( or lack thereof), I would have to see a doctor. A thought I was not happy about.

As I was reading the contents on the back of one of the few choices, I saw something dashed passed the corner of my eye. I focused on the end of the aisle. It could have been a kid but it looked smaller. For some reason, I started to feel uneasy...

Maybe someone’s dog got lose? I lot of people come in here with their dogs small enough to fit in bags all the time. But I didn’t hear anyone call out for one. I walked to the end of the aisle and looked around. Nothing. A trick of the light maybe? Sleep-deprived hallucination more like.

“Can I help you?” I jumped and turned. A woman with a pixie cut in a vest. One of the store’s employees. She saw my face and asked, “Is everything alright?” 

Breathing deep, “I’m good, just tired.” I laughed a little and then added, “I think I found what I needed. Thanks.” She nodded, told me if I needed anything else she’ll be just over there and walked away. Not turning to look behind me, I glanced at the pill bottle in my hand and went to the checkout. 

While driving home, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and that uneasy feeling was still there. Whatever I saw was small and dark... like a black cat.

[reciperadar]

[thisblackcat]

My Coffee

I don’t drink my coffee with a lot of cream... But this morning, when I made my usual one spoon of powdered creamer and three of sugar coffee, I couldn’t drink it. It was too dark. Which is stupid, because I always drink coffee as such. 

Still, somehow it reminded me of the dreams. With the dark room and ... the cat.

So, I poured powdered creamer into my coffee until it didn’t remind me of anything but coffee I don’t drink. I had to stomach the difference. Which sucked because I had to make two. I didn’t go back to sleep last night. I couldn’t. That feeling of dread lingered when I jolted awake.

 And it lingers still. 

I don’t know what any of this means but the dreams have been happening for almost 2 months now. I haven’t been sleeping well.  Maybe its stress. I’m been working a little too much at the warehouse lately. Maybe I'll ask my boss to put in a few days of PTO time for me. Give me a break or something. I think I can afford it this month. I don’t know. 

[littlegoldfinchh]

I had the weirdest dream last night

There was this humanoid creature, his skin was pitch black, he had no face just a pair of big white eyes and he had really long fingers. He was just standing in the middle of my room, watching me in silence.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t scared at all. He looked so peaceful standing there, so I asked him to dance with me. And I think he was a bit confused, like he didn’t expect me to do that. But then he was holding me close and he watched me as I intertwined our fingers.

So yeah, this is the story of how I had a romantic waltz with a demon.

[littlegoldfinchh]

Okay so I can’t draw and I know this is terrible so go easy on me, but I tried to draw him in my phone when I woke up and he kinda looked like this

Can anyone out there make a better version of this? It would be much appreciated!!

Also let me tag the dream queen herself @one-time-i-dreamt

[the-mold-gods]

so I tried; in this, he has kind of a face, isn’t in a bedroom and I didn’t know how to draw hipbones

I hope you like it and don’t mind I am kind of late, but better late than never right?

@one-time-i-dreamt

[tanosan96]

“PINES! PINES! PINES!

Fight Falls Pines Family dedicated to the Birthday girl @buryooooo <3 <3 <3

[sunsetquotes]

Yes, there are times we live for somebody else.

The Lumineers; Dead Sea (via sunsetquotes)

[cunninggreeneraven]

Why Dream Dictionaries are Mostly Garbage: Raven’s Guide to Dream Interpretation.

{Note: the following post is heavy UPG based upon over a decade of personal experience, research and observation.}

The problems with dream dictionaries is they are based on the premise of “universal symbols”. The issue with this is while dreaming does operate in the language of symbolism it’s overlooks the personal elements. Dreams speak through the languages of symbols and emotions, and these symbols are highly personal. Picture that when you dream you are putting on a play but here’s the kicker, you are everything in the play, from the other actors (in includes family members and people you know), the backdrop, the props, scenery, the animals, monsters - it is all you. Everything is a message from your subconscious to you., and it your job as the dreamer to learn the language. So how do we go about interpreting the dream? Well I’ll get to that but first things first. Dream journal. Now I know you will see pretty much every dream relate thing telling you to keep a dream journal, and their absolutely right. A dream journal is vital for your dreamwork, it is the link between worlds. By keeping a record of your dreams you are creating an open dialogue with your deeper mind. And it’s oaky if you can’t remember your dreams, even if you wake up with just a vague impression or just an emotion, even the weird dreams that seem to make no sense at all, write it all down. You are learning a new language from first hand experience and creating your own translation guide. By journaling you are encouraging and strengthening your long-term memory, it just takes dedication.You will begin to notice the pattern and reoccurring themes in your dreams when you go back and review your entries. So how do we interpret our dreams? This my 4 step process: 

First Step - How do you feel over all in the dream? 

Second Step - What parts of the dream stood out to you the most?

Third Step - What do these things personally represent to me?

Fourth Step - How do these things make me feel?

Like I mentioned above everything in your dream is a representation of some part of you, and how you feel about it is a vital part of understanding what it means. Just remember nothing is what it seem, nothing is literal. It is important that you take your time when working with a dream, you can carefully and attentively peeling away the layers to expose the core, and thus the meaning of the dream and it’s message. And don’t feel discouraged if you don’t get it write away, some dreams takes days, weeks, months, even years to understand, which is another reason why keeping a dream journal is so important so that you can keep revisiting these dreams as you grow and changes as a person. 

[galina]

Recently I can’t get enough iced coffee with soya milk. What a good way to procrastinate :’- )

[thisblackcat]

A Dream.

So, I’ve been having this dream. 

I’m alone. I’m in this dark room. Well, I think its a room. I mean that’s what my brain is telling me. It’s pitch black. I can’t even see my hands.

 And I’m just sitting there in this room of nothingness. It's calming... Peaceful even. But after a while... I feel ... Lonely? Maybe. I don’t know. So I start walking. It really doesn’t matter which direction, or how long, because this room... It's massive. There’s no end to it. And as I’m walking I come across something weird. A cat.

 A black cat. 

Which is strange because I can’t even see my own hands, so how the hell can I see this cat? Let alone a black cat? It is so weird... 

But even weirder is its eyes. 

Do you remember when a storm hits or something messes up the antenna to the TV while you’re watching? That screen of TV static? That’s its eyes. TV static where the pupil and iris should be. And they’re way too big and round than for any cat I’ve ever seen.  Like an owl or a Tarsier? Something with freakishly big eyes. It's just sitting there, watching me. Like its been waiting for me... 

So, freaked out I try to nope the hell out of there. I start walking( more like jogging) in the opposite direction. But no matter how far I walk, I always end up with this cat! It's still sitting there patiently. Watching me with its big freaky eyes... and I can’t do anything else but try to get away from it.  But it's like I’m walking in circles! The more I look at it... the more I stop a few feet away... There’s this feeling of dread... And the darkness feels like it's closing in on me. 

But no matter what, I always end up face to face...

With the cat.