I, Death

Wednesday September 26, 2012 - 4:07 AM

Fuck. I can't believe the nightmare I just had. No, it's not just the dream. It's . . . ah shit, it's complicated. I've been lying here for almost two hours and can't figure things out. I had to get up and write about it. Maybe then I'll be able to close this off from my mind and get some sleep.

The dream was about Rainy. I know, I dreamed about him and Kim the other night. Some sort of combination of the lecturing and accusations they've both made about me, having watched that damn Karla movie, and anxiety over what has happened to Sarah. It all seemed to mix into a really bad few days of feverish dreams and paranoid delusions.

But this last dream, this was worse — far worse than any nightmare I've had before. But let me start at the beginning.

It was night time. I was sneaking up the side of Sarah's house, on my way to her bedroom window at the back of the house. Like before, Rainy was there, lying in the grass, looking in the basement window. And, like before, he jumped up, all excited, when I got there, telling me he had to take my picture. But this time, instead of letting him pose me, I stopped him by knocking the camera out of his hands.

"No." I said. "Tell me what you've done with Sarah, you sick fuck."

He smiled at me and shook his head. "You poor, stupid fool."

I grabbed for his throat. "Tell me!"

He knocked my hands down easily. "Get a grip, Speedy," he said. "If I had anything to do with Sarah's disappearance, why would I be hanging out here?"

"The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime."

"Okay, dimwit," he said. "Reality check. I've never been to the scene of the crime. The only reason I'm here is because it's your dream and I'm a part of your dream. End of story."

"That's not true," I said. "You're responsible for Sarah's disappearance. And you're trying to trick me. This is part of some elaborate scheme."

"Don't flatter yourself, tough guy. Why can't you just face the fact that Sarah is through with you, that the whole thing is over, and that you need to get a life? Why can't you accept the reality that you've turned into a creepy stalker? I've got half a mind to turn on my cell phone and call the cops right now."

I lunged at him at that point. "Sarah loves me!" I shouted. "I'm not a fucking stalker." I clenched my hands into tight balls and started flailing at him, my fists bouncing off his chest. I continued my useless assault. "Why don't you leave me and Sarah alone? Why don't you just get the fuck out of here?"

"Why don't you wake up and smell the damn coffee?" he chortled.

Tears of rage were burning in my eyes as I continued my feeble attack. "Why don’t you just fuck off and die!" I screamed.

He suddenly stumbled backwards, as if my words had dug into him like so many sharp blades. "Oh shit," he said. "Now you've done it. I know where this is leading." He started to shake his head in pity again. "Peter, Peter, Peter. When will you learn?" Then a bright look flashed in his eyes. "Wait a second. Let's get a picture of this, capture the moment properly, shall we?" He reached down, retrieved his camera, then set it on a tripod, flicked a few switches and stood beside me.

"Oops," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. "Almost forgot the final touch." He produced a red spongy clown nose that he affixed to his face. Then he put his arm around my shoulder and whispered. "Now we're ready."

At that instant, a red-green tentacle shot out of the camera lens, knocking me to the ground. I recovered, looking up to see that it held Rainy by the throat, completely lifting him off of the ground. "Gak," was all he managed to utter, before the tentacle closed around his wind pipe, then his clown nose fell off and rolled on the grass to rest directly beside me. As if instinctively, I picked it up, not taking my eyes off the action for more than a split second.

Rainy was struggling with the tentacle around his throat, his cheeks red and his eyes bugging out from lack of oxygen. But he managed to actually pull part of the tentacle free from his throat. A moment later, he pulled enough of the tentacle away that he was able to drop free from its grasp, and in three solid swift moves, he tore the tentacle out of the front of the camera, ripped it apart in two pieces, and threw them across the yard.

He fell to his knees, panting for breath and I remember looking at him, completely astonished. He's done it, I thought. He has finally broken the death curse. It's finally over.

He looked up at me and smiled. And then he shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together in a grimace as if to say, No, Peter. I'm afraid not, my friend. But he never had a chance to say anything else, because what happened next happened way too fast.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the camera start to slide forward like one of those aliens in the remake of War of the Worlds, the tripod legs suddenly as flexible and strong as the tentacle had been.

It moved forward quickly, and by the time I realized what was happening, one tentacle tripod leg shot forward and pierced through his left shoulder, pinning him against the wall. Then a second one stabbed into his upper leg. Then the camera pulled itself in for an attack, and I swear I saw a set of razor sharp teeth in place of the camera lens, as the camera collided with his face. It pulled away about a foot, a large chuck of his cheek in its mouth, then it swooped in to attack again, this time biting into his neck, and again coming back with a huge hunk of flesh.

Rainy didn't utter a single sound as the camera savagely and brutally attacked him. Stunned, I laid there in the grass, getting splattered with raindrop-like spacklings of blood, watching as it tore huge chucks of flesh off of his face, chest and neck.

There was a particularly chilling moment, when, in the midst of the piranha-like attack, Rainy looked over at me, his face consisting mostly of bits of sinew, muscle, and small pieces of meaty flesh, with a good portion of skeletal jaw showing. And I could tell he was smiling at me. And in my mind I could hear his voice. Not spoken aloud, but clearly audible within my head: I was trying to help you, Peter. And look what you've done to me. Look what you've done.

I woke up at that point. Completely freaked out.

But that wasn't the worst of it. By the time I calmed down enough to realize it was just a nightmare, I looked down into my hand.

And saw the spongy red clown nose.

– 2 Comments –

Kim said...

I just went to Rainy’s blog to see if it was true... I can't believe it. I just can't believe it.

Rainy was a great guy. We went to high school together. He was always clowning around, making people laugh. He married his high school sweetheart... they have two beautiful little kids.

How could this happen, Peter?

You need to see someone about this. Please. For your sake as well as those who care.

Please.

Franny said...

omg, Rainy, Peter totally had it coming! You know what they say; you play with fire, you get brutally slaughtered by a camera.

By the way Peter, I have a few people I'd like you to get to know... people who deserve an "nc-17" rated death. Let me know and we can arrange a "blind-date."

Just, umm, stay the fuck away from me!