The Pseudo-Chronicles of Mark Huntley

Speak, Memory - 9/20/04

Monday, September 20, 2004

Grueling on to part 2 of what happened this weekend...

Thankfully, nobody showed up at my apartment throughout that long night on Friday. I stayed wired awake until around four. Listening all the while for any strange noises in the hall (there were none) and checking out the window in case the watcher reappeared (he never did). Then my tiredness finally caught up with me. My vigil ended with me falling asleep in my chair at an awkward angle.

The dream was short, like my total amount of sleep that night, but it still freaked me out.

I was standing in the same place I’d been in when I had the dream last week. The same darkness, with leaf-like objects striking me. And I saw the same silver-glowing boy that I’d seen before. This time, though, a young girl joined him. She wasn’t glowy, but she did seem to be friends with the boy— they were playing around and laughing, though I didn’t hear any sound.

Then the darkness faded out a little, and I could see trees… and a pair of mountains, looking like a pair of generous breasts, and grey sky. These woods looked familiar to me somehow. As the kids continued to play, a new figure appeared some distance away, this one adult-sized. It was a woman in a long dress, with hair down to her elbows. 

I couldn’t see her face clearly—but somehow I could tell that she looked… angry. No, malevolent, is that more like it? Just, like, fucking evil. She had her own glow: a dull, almost-not-there violet. It throbbed from her, unlike the boy’s silver, which created this streamy effect around him.

The whole woods shook, and the sky cracked. I could see through the crack in the grey a darker sky—and there were more symbols there. Different than the ones in the first dream, but they did match the ones that I drew during my little artistic frenzy the other night. They were twisting, glowing. They seemed alive.

The woman with the purple glow was only standing there, watching the kids, but the boy broke off from his playing… and broke into a run. Right at the woman. As he ran, he started to change. 

I woke up. It was around eight. I took a look around the apartment: no intruder. Nobody had tried to move the bookcase from its place in front of the door. Looked like I’d lived to see another day.

Since I had daylight on my side now, I felt a little safer. I tried to get some more sleep, but no dice. I kept thinking about that dream. And I started to believe that it, and the dream I had last week, actually meant something. Why else would I dream about the glowing kid and a bunch of symbols twice?

I thought back on the woods and mountains in the dream, with the advantage of being conscious this time. Of course I knew where they’d been: New England. More specifically: New Hampshire. And hey, let’s get even more specific than that: the greater Manchester area. Those two mountains that had looked like tits—they were the Uncanoonuc Mountains. Which the Indians had named for looking like tits. It was right in the area where I grew up.

So, then, what if the glowing boy was me? Who would the girl be? Well, I happened to know someone recently unearthed from my childhood who made an excellent candidate. 

Now, the woman, I had no idea who that would be. But I could ask Gwendolyn. I thought I could ask Gwendolyn quite a few questions. If my dreams were actually distorted fragments of things that really happened, maybe she could help me mold them back into their proper shape and fill in the rest of the picture.

Insane, yes? You’re thinking I’m well on my way to becoming grandpa Doucette, seeing rats where no rats exist? Holy somatoform disorder, Mark!

Sure, asking an old friend a bunch of strange questions based only on a couple of dreams, that’s not the best way to recultivate a friendship. But I don’t care. I’m in that Zone of Weird Crap, and it’s clear now that I’m not getting out unless I take action.

I did see Gwen that day— Saturday. I’ll tell you all about it. But I'm too tired to get to that part now. Work took a lot out of me today. Ryloff was riding me, and Deb would not shut up. We'll call the next installment Part 3, and see it tomorrow. 

Meantime, you know I'm still alive and writing this, so this shouldn't be much of a cliffhanger. I don't die in Part 3.

posted by Mark Huntley @ 10:33 PM

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