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Monday, March 13, 2017

Documenting the Descent


Our Hero is asleep right now.  He's sleeping for most of the day after being up all night.  Sleep only comes when the sun rises.

The medical term is Circadian Rhythm Sleep Disorder.  But this isn't medical or psychological.

This isn't natural.

Dark magic did this.  The necromancers of thought have been hard at work attacking Our Hero with spellcraft driven by hateful intent.  They need to weaken him, to further isolate him, to hurt him.  The full frontal assault never worked so now they're trying something different.

Attack him while he dreams in the dreamworld.  Unravel his mind and remove his will to carry on until he can no longer continue his quest and he abandons it on the side of the road.

The ruthless assault on his mind and soul has begun to take a heavy toll on Our Hero.  The very structures of reality are beginning to show cracks.  These evil men, necromancers of thought, have found a way to blast his mind with horrific images and painful memories, while giving him messages of just how pointless all resistance is against them.

"Slip away," they tell him through images.  "Wade into the stream and let the warm, healing waters carry you away to peace."

Sometimes they sing to him and he wakes up humming their tune without even realizing where he learned it.

The other night, he dreamed of a cat attacking him.  He was going to the front door to get a pizza being delivered and the cat jumped up from the floor, latching itself to his right hand, claws digging in so deep he could feel the blood run down his arm.  The cat was furious with him and yelled a harsh indictment but it was all spoken in a screeching cat's voice so he couldn't understand a single word of it.  All he knew was this cat hated him with a passion and the pain in his hand would never go away.

The pain was so strong and vivid he woke up.  Our Hero turned on the light to examine his wounds only to find them not there and the pain fading quickly to nothing.  There was no blood despite him being sure there would be copious amounts everywhere.

A few minutes later, he drifted back to sleep where a another dream awaited him, this time of a woman he was desparate to forget.  Once again, she was an obstacle, almost a monument, and she wasn't going anywhere.  She accused him of cruelty and sobbed uncontrollably as she recounted her pain.

This dream woke him up, too.  It always does at least once a night.  Again and again, he dreams of her, and this distorted version of events.  And so he has to remind himself that no, this is not how it happened, and he does not deserve this.

Last week, they sent him a dream that involved a large hand grasping him tightly around his torso, while another forced open his mouth, and the soul of his friend he was keeping safe within him was stolen, along with a piece of Our Hero's soul.  The grip was so tight it hurt his ribs.  It felt as if they were going to break.  He woke up gasping for air, wincing at the pain in his ribs, as that pain slowly faded as well.

A few weeks ago, they sent him a dream about a doorway suddenly appearing.  Our Hero woke up, stood up from his bed, and looked at the doorway on his wall.  It slowly disappeared right before his eyes, along with the lights illuminating it, until once again all he saw was his wall.

The dreams are breaking into his reality.  The dark magic cast upon him is working.  His mind is fracturing and unraveling.  The altered sleep times have further isolated him from any support he might have had previously.  They are wearing him down bit by bit, nightmare by nightmare, and he is becoming afraid to sleep at night because he know what awaits him once he closes his eyes.

Who needs to hide in shadows when you have the entire map of Dreamland as your battlefield?

These are dark times for Our Hero.  He is under attack by a foe he cannot see or defend against.  And in those dark hours, those witching hours, when he is at the crescendo of his nightly war, he is also furthest removed from assistance and aid.

If you believe in Happily Ever Afters, then there's a chance.  Not much of one, but slim enough it can be mentioned.  A chance.  Maybe, just maybe, Our Hero can find his way out of this darkness.  Maybe it's not over just yet.  Maybe somehow Our Hero can figure out a way to pull out of this tailspin before the dirt overdose at the end.

Some people believe in Happily Ever After.  The question is--do you? 

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