I awoke with visions of the old man laying in a prone vexation, upon his face was confusion and horror. I got out of the reclining chair I was resting in and walked along the dusty floor to the corridor through which I prosecuted my path to the old man’s room. I saw him laying there peacefully and it was at that moment I realized I was dreaming but I didn’t stop to think about what I was dreaming of simply that it was a fog over my mind that it was a liquid haze that kept me from consciousness and through which I fled the waking world. I approached his bed and looking into his eyes I could see the change that came over him and it was horrific, I could tell he was in pain but more than that. A terror had stricken him unlike anything humanity had seen hence. His grip tightened and then he slipped from consciousness ebbing shortly to and fro as if between the shore and rocks of sleep and as if in a terrible nightmare he clenched up as if rigger mortis had set in suddenly until he relaxed and lay silent and still. So I stepped away; and the shear beauty of the thing was that it only had to be experienced to be understood, to be seen as the eloquent thing it was.
Only to find myself following another dark deserted corridor in which I glanced longingly for an end yet the thing continued for what seemed ages and yet the moment it started it ended, the length of the thing was apparent even if the point of it was not. So I walked and walked until I came to another door to which I rose my hand to open and when I lay my index finger upon the knob I drew back in horror. To which my hand had taken a ghostly visage, springing from my cuticle was a dark and misty substance of no clearly definable origin it’s result was by no means settling yet at once it seemed to have no ill effect. As I watched the insubstantial yet vexing material began to crawl up through my hand and as it did so I began to fade from steadfast consciousness almost to a hallucination for before my eyes I began to see horrid unimaginable things things I wish I had no eyes to see. I would claw my eyes out! I came to think of blinding myself but that would leave me with no other thing to think of but the horrible things I saw before me now. It was becoming unbearable and through it all I could see the thing consuming, now more of me up to the crux of my arm. I felt the last moments of alertness drain away as I began to flee sanity and reason. And it was then that I came to know of it, it was no other than I that had caused the old mans condition. By no active means however, it was nothing I had meant to do but rather what I had inside me which was coming to surface now, my inner deamons drove him to insanity and now they were taking me over and eating me from the inside out. They were these deamons which had come to give me this dream, an up until now I had only assumed it was a dream for it felt as light and arid as a dream but now I felt a different thing, a nauseating and perpetually sickening thing. Perhaps that which I thought was my subconscious was manifesting as reality, coming out of me to become a thing of terror. Would I perhaps awake and discover that I had left my body behind, that I was no more a human but left a husking of a creature? To all of this there was no doubt that I was infallibly ill, that I had come to some corruption of the soul and yet I could see it physically as well as spiritually. I hurt inside but it wasn’t inside me, it was agonizing but it was blissful, I remembered the old man and it was this that was my contentment for I was in remorse for my actions whatever they had been. And so I faded from this world and into the next.
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